Standing on the second floor of San Francisco’s newly opened Museum of Modern Art, admiring the bright red elevator doors, I was approached by a maintenance worker who asked me, “Do you like that color?”
“Then don’t miss the bathroom.” He pointed. “It’s right around the corner.”
Obediently, I circled past the coat check and into the men’s room. The sight astonished me; it was like walking into a tomato. Every surface and door, from floor to ceiling, was painted brilliant crimson.