John Henry - Part Eleven

John Henry

Part Eleven

            Or ‘was worth’.

            After... that charming cell phone touch and feel chat... and those have become more and more a part of my ‘work day’... I... DID receive a photograph tagged on a “tell me what you think” email that... I deleted... after looking at the photograph... and deciding that it was taken by a family member-heir with a camera ....they had in their purse and... ‘what do you expect’ from that and... it was an ‘unusable’ image for ‘doing an appraisal’ of the painting.  Too.

            Resting in peace came next and that went on for about two months.  Then the three day tag sale took place at the Maine mansion.  I didn’t go... at all.  The estate was for sale... including a roadside sign... by the end of the following week.  “It’s priced to sell” my wife told me but I retained a “who cares” high on my mountain side attitude and... only admit that my head turned to view the head of the driveway (for one cannot ‘see it from the road’) when I was ‘happened to be’ driving by.

            I heard nothing about the “CAMP”.  I assumed that the contents distribution was a ‘took place’ ‘too’.  In some form or another.  There was too much shore front property value waiting to be ‘cleared’ (in more ways than one) ‘for development’ to possibly slow that imperative so ... ‘so much for that’... old farm’s... ‘stuff’.

            I figured.

            Then, suddenly, there was a sneak attack.  Seated in my office chair at the end of an afternoon recklessly rummaging my mail-filled-with-auctioneer’s-forthcoming-auction... folded color broadsheet... ‘flyers’ I:

            Was startled to encounter “a” painting the became a “THAT’S THE” painting fractional seconds later causing me to ‘sit up’ and ‘both feet on the floor’ and, well... how about  “OMG”.  Too.

            “OMG” is NOT what I said but it’s common usage conveys the ‘holy ...” that I moderately uttered to myself and then... got down to scrutinizing this postage stamp flyer ‘pictured’ ‘listing’ and then... quickly jumped to the textual listings to ...discover... the tiny words “Twachtman” proceed by “J. H.”... and no more.

            This last caused me to return to the tiny picture and again... ‘scrutinizing’ ‘it’ I had a pit-in-my-stomach gut reaction that ‘it’ (the pictured painting) “doesn’t look right” although “IT IS (definitely) THE PAINTING”.  Again; this pictured image is about one and one-half inches square... on glossy paper stock... so...:  “NO”... stick with the GUT response... “there is something wrong with the painting”.  What?  “It’s TOO BRIGHT”

            “NO.” I say to myself... then fall down inside to

            Acknowledge that

            “IT’S BEEN CLEANED”.

            By this time I’d stood up and sat down and... moved on to the next phase of traditional and classic “OMG” of a ‘something good pictured in an auction flyer’ professional antiquarian response (as being shown here... to be both physical and mental) of “WHEN IN IS THE PREVIEW.  This means ‘WHEN CAN I SEE THE PAINTING’.  I read the terms of that ...auctioneer bullshit pile to ...to no surprise... discover that there was offered a ‘gala’ ‘evening’ ‘wine and cheese’ (emphasizing wine) “COLLECTOR’S PREVIEW” first and on THIS Friday evening.  There after ‘viewing’ was available  “at our gallery” “during regular business hours” “Starting” the following Monday morning and “taking place at” THERE until the auction... the following Friday evening ...sans wine... and cheese.

            OF COURSE I’M GOING TO ‘IT’... but not the smell-and-be-smelled ‘gala’.  Nope; I stay away from ANY of that always and ALL of those who do attend ALWAYS TOO... unless... they’re ‘writing (ME) a check’ (I’m selling one of them a painting USUALLY ‘privately’.  No real problem there except that SHOULD I show up the floor buzz would be ‘what’s he doing here’... ‘he’s got something in the sale’... he just sold somebody something here’... ‘what was it’... ‘I missed something’... “I’m gonna go ASK HIM”... and... VERY down hill from there.  So I don’t show for wine and cheese EVER.  And remind... ‘it’s about the stuff’.

            Yeah so now I ...have to wait a WEEK before I can ‘slip in’ to the gallery and ‘see’ ‘the painting’.  A WEEK including ducking a wine and cheese fine arts festival that includes the painting shown BARE before ALL.  A WEEK of not mentioning to anyone anything in anyway AT ALL about ‘this’ ...for no particular reason other than that is my default standard professional action taken.  I’m not going to ‘buy’ the painting.  I JUST WANT TO ‘SEE IT’.

            Going dah-dee-dah-dee-dah about my business... including going to bed just about the time the gala preview ‘got under way’ with the first corks ‘pulled’... I DID for nearly a week and then...

            Arrived

            At the gallery

            Pleasingly at

            Nearly half-past ten AM to be sure of the ‘open at ten’ hours and...

            Find a fresh faced morning girl at the “May I help you?” reception desk (WHO HAS NO IDEA WHO I AM THANK YOU).

            “Just looking around thank you.” and I veer off into the large open space with high ceilings and track lighting gallery ‘preview’ room that ...moves inward toward a ‘stage’ with the ‘hammer drop’ auctioneer’s podium to one side, the ‘phone bid’ table and chairs on the other side and ...upon the walls of this narrowed, focused and intentionally directing one’s attention ...commercial space ... are the ‘better’ to ‘best’ ‘paintings’ ‘offered’.

            A quick scan of ‘those’ shows “no Twachtman” (‘the painting’).  I circle view the whole rectangular gallery from my position.  “Don’t see...”

            “Wait”

            “Ah.”

            “WAY DOWN THERE?”

            “OK.”

            Off I go to the far front corner of the room... to the as-one-enters left of the front door and on the front wall... to ‘it’ (‘the painting’).

            There are windows on this front wall.  The sunlight shining through those overpowers the track lighting on ... ‘the painting’.  As I come ever closer the ‘gut’ ‘something wrong’ roars from the painting... through the discombobulating effect of the sunlight:  “It’s too blue”... “it’s bright and shiny”... “it’s surface is too blue and looks sticky” roars in my mind.  “The frame is gone; a new frame... it has a new frame” and then my nose tip is nearly touching the painting surface and I am falling, falling, falling as I gulp only mouthfuls of heavy water filled air to DROWN in the visible maelstrom that the:

            Painting has been destroyed.