$50 Date Night in Austin: Blanton Art Museum and Dog and Duck Pub

What’s creepier: The phrase, “I was desperate for ‘A Grown-Ups Love’ or that creeper peeper with the “S” sweater is named Lonny?

Editor’s Note: Dog and Duck Pub is closed as of November 2017.

I don’t know how to describe marriage. Sure, there are descriptors you can use to paint the picture of a relationship: happy, sad, angry, contentious; whatever. But the abundance of healthy relationships, I think — ones that work anyway — are centered in a type of commonality that isn’t really ripe for description.

When I belch and watch football and grunt like a neanderthal or if I’m dragged to the profoundly miserable Sex and the City 2 or made to endure indubitably girly “craft nights” — you know, these things that would otherwise find people incompatible — there’s that commonality with each other that brings us together.

It isn’t the hot, fiery, endless passion that plays out through romance novels, nor is it some kind of Leave it to Beaver episode where everything squares up in the end. It’s the sum of many excellent traits and an equal amount of follies, bringing two roofs to one, to constantly remind each other that “You are not alone” and that, whatever else is happening, that matters.

So when I cooked up this idea about rekindling what dating my wife was like, she was excited and so was I. This isn’t a “get to know each other” process for us anymore, but now that we’ve proven that we are right for each other both in the best and worst times, we thought it a great idea to inject some curiosity and fun back into our lives and — well — to make use of that somehow.

While I’m no love doctor (I think Iron Maiden has guitar riffs longer than the 1 year and 11 months I’ve been married), I do consider myself a normal human being, of capable but modest means, who found someone very similar. And it’s all worked for us. So we thought if it worked for us, maybe it would work for other people.

What Marie (my wife) and I did was not something you’d see in a Hollywood screenplay. Our relationship grew through much more understated (erm…palatable) means. In other words…we just went out on some dates. Then we went out on more dates. Then we kind of became best friends, because we were around each other all the time. There’s a dynamic to that: mostly, the newness and naivety of new love, that we can’t rekindle.

But everything else is pretty much the same. We’re experiencing new and fun stuff together. This time, in the greater Austin area. The idea behind this concept is simple: It’s a $50 date night. I picked this because I figured people of capable but modest means can afford a $50 night out every so often, and in the Austin area that’s an acceptable amount to put together a date. It’s also a great way to learn about a great city with someone else.

Now you don’t have to be married to get something out of these posts, obviously. This is for anyone who wants to get to know someone else. So without further rambling or references to Sarah Jessica Parker, here is the first in a new series: $50 Date Night in Austin…

Blanton Art Museum – $18

“You’re supposed to be wooing me, remember.” Marie said.

I turned back from my torrid pace to the Blanton. (And that’s the first thing you should know about date nights in Austin: you’ll probably do some walking in the heat. Resist the urge to “get the hell inside.” Once your body is drenched with sweat and you both smell like zoo creatures, all forms of embarrassment pass. It’s generally a mutual understanding.)

“I think you’ve misunderstood the purpose of this exercise…” I said.

“No. You’re supposed to be wooing me.” she repeated. “It’s a date night. Like we’re dating. You know…walk next to me, hold open doors.”

Our first date, over three years ago, didn’t come with an instruction manual. Nor did it seem like I was being coached to victory by a 5’7, curly haired Mack Brown with an Ohio accent. I mean, I’m a gentlemen of the highest order. I always hold open doors. And I generally walk beside her. Unless I have to fart. Then I take an earnest measurement of the wind and adjust accordingly. But in this case, she was right.

Besides being immaculately air conditioned, the Blanton Art Museum on the UT campus is a great place. I like using art museums to get to know someone for a couple of reasons. The first is because art can mean literally anything to anyone, so you can basically string together a group of verbs and adjectives that would otherwise make you look insane, and in an art setting it seems perfectly normal to describe something that way.

“Ooh! Sticky orange banana record player German Shepherd universe.”

“But does that *truly* describe what the artist is saying?”

In other words, it’s a safe, comfortable place to talk about any old thing you want and not have to worry about screwing up too much.

Blanton Art Museum Representations of American Frontier

“John Wayne Bang Bang”…. or a similar title.

When you first enter the Blanton, you’re immediately in the presence of a great piece of artwork. Directly ahead of you is a large blue wall lining the second floor stair case that was installed as a giant exhibit in its own right. And it’s fun just to take pictures of that big, blue open space that can kind of make you feel like you’re swimming.

After you pay (which is $9 a piece for adults, with a variety of discount options for Students, Seniors, etc. etc. etc.) you’re ready to go. You should also know that there is a parking garage utilized by the Blanton and you’ll be asked if you parked there — it does cost money and is kind of run on the honor system. I like to park at a meter which can run you about a dollar or two in quarters for a couple of hours.

In the downstairs wing they generally have some pretty cool showings of individuals’ artwork or contributions. When we were there, one of the primary showings was of the partial collection of Herb and Dorothy Vogel, retired Postal Clerk and Librarian who used their modest incomes to obtain literally thousands of pieces of minimalist art for the past fifty years.

Also on display at the moment (until October) is Representations from the American Frontier, which is a cool exhibit upstairs of various depictions of the Old West (like Cowboys. And Indians. And….cactus plants). One particular painting describes itself as impacting the depiction of old Western films and television shows, such as John Wayne’s The Searchers. So it’s not all abstract and conceptual art, which is good, because there are only so many multi-colored blobs one can look at.

Another great thing about the Blanton (and most art museums these days, really) is they have a firm understanding that people are not only interested in the art as imagery, but also in the story behind it. The Blanton does a tremendous job of pairing up individual pieces and whole exhibits with historical information on the subjects, and you will often find some interactive things along the way. That’s how I learned about The Searchers. I read it on a wall.

If you’re going on a date with kids (first of all: very impressive, sir or madam), last time we visited there was a family art center set up at the top of the stairs for “inspired” tykes to create art of their own. There is also a pretty colorful room upstairs where kids are invited to learn….stuff.

All told, getting through the multiple exhibits/floors should take an interested couple up to 90 minutes and a disinterested couple a little less than an hour. You don’t have to worry about big crowds at the Blanton — at least in my experience — as I’ve never seen the place particularly busy. Which is nice because it makes everything feel more private and cozy.

The last time we were there, we didn’t go through the entire museum, but one of my favorite pieces (and I hope it’s still there) is this little room filled with pennies and hanging things reflecting off one another. See below a picture of myself dressed as a cleverly disguised Superman in said room:

Now it’s time to venture back out into the convection oven that is Austin and take a quick walk over to the Dog and Duck Pub for some food and/or suds.

Dog and Duck Pub – $22

Now listen: This is very important. I paired the Blanton and the Dog and Duck Pub together on this date night for a very specific reason. That reason is I wanted a combination of markedly different things so that you can be sure your date is a cool cucumber in a variety of different environments. Sure, strictly high culture is fun….if you’re an elitist snob who bathes in caviar and blood diamonds.

Sure, strictly the bar scene is fun… if you’re a tree smoking hippy who can’t spell his own name. But I need someone in my life who can offend these stigmas equally. We’re no Civil War of ideas on date nights, man…no…we’re the all-offending, non-offending center. You might as well call us Switzerland.

Anyway, this is all an elaborate way of saying that Dog and Duck Pub is one-third dive bar, one-third neighborhood bar, one-third yuppie hang out. One of those is surely meant to offend just about everybody. But, like my view of date night, I like places where you can go dressed like an executive or a stoner or a jorts-wearing cowboy (we actually saw that one) and still kind of fit in. And that’s what Dog and Duck Pub gives you: A fun, open atmosphere where you can just go and be yourself, whatever that “self” may be.

Marie and I went here for lunch, though remember that it is a pub and they do have some decently priced drinks. The food is your standard bar fare with a little bit of an upscale twist. A standard BLT sandwich or Swiss Cheese burger can cost you a couple bucks more than what you can get at other places. So keep that in mind. For the prices, I would have liked the food to be a little better. It wasn’t terrible, but I would classify it as soundly in the “average” category.

But that’s okay, because it’s a pub. And if you’re here on an early date with someone, you’re likely going to be interested in their wide assortment of drinks and the welcoming aesthetic. The inside of the Dog and Duck Pub sort of reminds me of a darker, edgier “Cheers” bar, with the deep-toned woodwork and immaculate old ceiling. You may not necessarily feel like Norm is going to swing past or anything, but the woodwork and the generally old feel of the place gives a similar vibe. There’s also a fairly large front porch for those that prefer to sit and talk outside.

Where everybody knows your name duh-duh-duh duh duh! But doesn’t acknowledge it duh-duh-duh duh duh!

All told, I would have liked a little more out of the Dog and Duck Pub. It is a fairly nice place, but the prices could drop a dollar or two. At times, it felt too much like the employees worked too hard at maintaining an apathetic “vibe”, like there was this awareness of customer service but that as a matter of course people should generally be distant. I lived in the Northeast for a long time, and in places like New York you will often get the feeling that your server or bartender is leaving you to your own devices. And hey, some people love that. In Texas, I think the pleasantries and communication is a part of a different, friendlier aesthetic. Unfortunately that wasn’t as present at Dog and Duck.

On the bright side, that gives you a lot of time to get to know your date more personally.

Until Next Time

So this week, parking included, we came in at about $42 for roughly 3 hours of entertainment. Both of the things we did are within walking distance of each other, and are conveniently near the State Capitol grounds too, which could provide for an extra cap to the evening if things have gone well.

After we left the Dog and Duck Pub — our bellies full, minds filled with beautiful images — we stumbled back over to our car to head home.

“So, did I earn another date? Will you go out with me again?” I asked my wife.

“Yes.” she said.

So it worked. I then forgot to open the car door for her, and she dumped me for James Franco.

Until next time, Austinots…..Carrot Pencil German Shepherd Universe.