by Ruth Hartley
He grinned at her and raised one thick eyebrow. “Is it that bad?” he asked.
Lara could not help but smile back. Her shoulders relaxed and she shook her head.
“No! It’s not at all bad but – I think that I am probably just bad at selling my work. If you don’t mind I can’t fake it. I have never done this before.”
“Your art will sell itself – or not. Just be who you are Lara. Let me have a look at what you have brought.”
Oscar carried Lara’s portfolio over to the large polished mahogany table in the centre of the room. He opened it out and began to take out her work and look over it slowly. He had put on spectacles for the task and Lara thought they made his face look more ordinary and his nose appear larger and more irregular. He was dressed for work in a suit but he wore no tie and his jacket hung over the back of his chair. Lara noticed the detailed tailoring of his shirt, the designer stitching on the collar and cuffs, the coloured buttons holding them in place.
“Is he vain about his appearance as well as using an expensive tailor?”
She wondered if Tim had noticed Oscar’s dress sense. Probably not, judging by Tim’s own inelegant style.
Oscar seemed unhurried as he looked at Lara’s drawings. He glanced up at her.
“I have set aside plenty of time for this.” he said “No need for us to rush.”
Standing by him ready to answer questions, Lara was able to observe the room and also look over at Oscar without seeming to stare. He wasn’t a very tall man. Not much taller than Lara. He had wide shoulders and a broad chest without carrying any fat. Lara decided he could crush her easily in his arms if he chose, and then wondered why the idea had occurred to her. Perhaps women always measure men in such terms just in case it was necessary to escape from them. He moved lightly on his feet too. Could she outrun him? She smiled to herself at the possibility that she might need to run from Oscar. No man had ever chased her, in that physical sense at least. The hair above Oscar’s ears was greying, but his thick eyebrows were dark and so was the faint stubble on his chin. She felt the rasp of it when he rubbed his hand slowly over his chin as he concentrated on one piece of her work. His skin was that of a man of fifty years, just starting to crease and slacken in ways that exposed a person’s nature. It had always been interesting and more rewarding to draw older people at art school. It was a long time since Lara had found the soft pale pinkness of Renoir’s female nudes or Titian’s smooth ivory women either pretty or attractive. She loved the painful honesty of Rembrandt’s later self-portraits. What did Oscar’s wrinkles tell her about his nature? She stopped herself from studying him just in time. He was looking closely at her.
“Now come and explain your work to me and I will tell you what I want – maybe would like – you to do for me.”
“Right,” said Oscar over an hour later as Lara replaced carefully her artwork in her portfolio. “That has made me very hungry. How about you? It’s almost one o’clock now. Shall we continue our conversation at the steak house down the road? We still have plenty to discuss before we begin to think about contracts and payments. Also – I do need to know more about your own plans for your art before I tie you down even temporarily, in a direction that makes you uncomfortable.”
Instead of eating a proper supper, Lara had spent the previous evening arranging and rearranging her portfolio and her CVs. The idea of lunch at a restaurant filled her with pleasure. She seldom planned or prepared meals for herself even when she was alone. In Tim’s flat the fridge was empty and the small sink loaded with cereal bowls and spoons.
“That would be good.” Lara was smiling and relaxed. “It has been great to look at all of this with you. I think I can do what you want me to do – and yes – I am hungry too.”
Chapter Four
Lunch with Oscar
Oscar was good company. Nothing he did or said made Lara feel either condescended to or patronised. They discussed a wide range of subjects from game management, to politics in Chambeshi, to current trends in art in Britain. Never once did he imply that Lara’s lack of experience or knowledge invalidated her perceptions and opinions as a young adult.
“I wouldn’t think of it in that way myself,” he said with a smile in response to her criticism of one of the current art trends in London, “You know more about it than I do, but I guess that I have seen a great deal of changes and adaptations and art will never stagnate. Everything must and will change. Do you know when I first arrived on the Mines in South Africa it was a hotbed of radical labour ideas mainly stirred up by immigrants, many of whom were Jews from Eastern Europe. There was every shade of opinion from Nazism to Communism and everything seemed possible. It began to change after the Afrikaner Nationalists took over the government in 1948 and made their ideology of racial segregation and apartheid into law. I arrived in the early 50s soon after that started to happen and I reckoned it was bad news. Coupled with that, work on the Rand gold mines was dirty and dangerous work for everyone. I left as soon as I could.”
“Why did you come to Chambeshi?” Lara asked.
“I had seen enough of war in Europe when I was a child,” Oscar said. For a moment his eyes flickered, then he smiled again. “I rather fancied being on the side of the victors you know – British colonial traditions seemed rather reasonable by comparison with the direction that the South African Nationalists were going in. I really wanted to be my own man and start over again. Chambeshi was without question attractive. Besides they were recruiting for the police force and the terms of employment were bloody good. It was that or join the South African army.” Oscar’s face lit up and he smiled. “I didn’t know I would see the end of colonial rule and the start of the Rebellion. It was, however, an education and an opportunity – and of course I got to know Enoch.”
“But how come you are so interested in art – and – well – also you know a lot about it. My parents haven’t a clue really and that goes for most British expatriates,” Lara persisted.
“People of my age and generation?” Oscar grinned at Lara. “It’s also class and generation Lara – your generation may have escaped from class considerations. My generation didn’t.”
“Really!” Lara leaned forward with a shade too much enthusiasm. “You mean you came from a class that cared about art?”
“I was born in East Germany – well my family came from Dresden – Saxony – art and music was part of the life of middle class people in a way they weren’t in England. We weren’t upper class in the English sense or intellectuals in the Oxbridge sense but it was woven into our lives along with politics. We were not insular like the British, you know!” Oscar smiled at Lara and she laughed.
“Well – perhaps living as an expatriate makes you change some of your attitudes.” Lara puzzled about it for a moment. “It doesn’t necessarily integrate you into another culture though – it puts you into a different group.” She grinned and continued. “At art school at first I was seen as upper class – and I was so offended. I hated being seen as different from the other students – though of course – I did – and do want to be distinctive and among the best!”
“Mm, how do you see yourself as an artist then, Lara? Where do you fit? Is it a competition or a race? What do you want for yourself?”
Lara frowned, “I suppose that every artist is different but I think first of all you have to want to make art and that process makes its own individual rules – but then – it is hard to believe in yourself and to keep on driving yourself forward all on your own. I want people to see my art and to tell me that it matters – but selling it – well – that’s a pile of shit!” Lara had spat out the last words, something she would have said to Tim without a thought. Now she wondered about their impact on Oscar. She looked at him, widening her eyes for a moment.
“Sorry.” she said, “Probably shouldn’t have said that! If it wasn’t for Helen and the Umodzi I would b
e very unhappy – she is fantastic.”
Oscar regarded her seriously but without offence.
“The business of making money in order to survive is a pile of shit!” he agreed but then he smiled, so she did too.
“We must get on with making a pile of shit out of your art, Lara!”
Oscar seemed to Lara to hesitate for a brief moment but almost at once he went on with a lengthy explanation. He wanted, he said, to put capital into the development of a safari camp at the Tin Heart Camp which his partner Enoch would both own and run.
“We want it to be small but exclusive. Personalised safaris. People could choose to bring their own guides with specialized knowledge – say of birds – maybe of plants or insects. We would provide expert local guides for game and fishing, but the emphasis is on luxury and quality of the wilderness experience. Bill and Maria see many more clients and their safaris can’t be beaten but they don’t often get the same people coming back year after year. We would hope to attract regular clients. What I want from you, Lara, is a series of paintings of the area around the camp – obviously with the animals in their habitat as far as possible. These paintings would be for the safari camp and the town office. I also want a range of varied drawings – or sketches – of every possible subject – portraits of the workers at the site, the guides, the village people and traditional dancers, the safari camp, the river, different fish, animals, birds, big small and insects, trees, flowers and butterflies and so on that I can use in brochures advertising the place. Of course the clients like and need to see photos but as you know – a good photo of a lion in the bush could be in any part of Africa – I think your drawings will give the place an individual and unique identity only possible because the artist made the paintings at that place. What do you think, Lara?”
“It sounds like a huge amount of work,” Lara said hesitantly. “Rather as if it could take a lifetime to do.”
“Oh yes indeed it might.” Oscar agreed. “But my brief requires it to be deliverable within strict time limits so that I can get the brochure to the press for the next season. What I suggest is that you go to the Tin Heart Camp with Enoch and Inonge for a three to four month period while they finish equipping and setting up the camp. All the construction work is complete and the supplies are all there. You will be there and be free to do your drawing and painting – all your materials, food and accommodation, expenses, everything all found, though you will be camping and it will be rough at the start. At the end I will give you a lump sum which we will agree before you begin work. It will cover holiday pay, pension and period of notice. I will also buy from you all the art I want and the price will be agreed by Helen as your agent, yourself and by me.
“How does it sound?”
“It sounds very interesting,” said Lara. “I need to know the amounts though, as holiday pay and a pension sum as a percentage of four months’ low pay could be very little money indeed. I also need to know how Enoch and Inonge feel about this arrangement. I don’t want to be the outsider artist who is seen as a free-loader and a liability”
Oscar considered Lara’s idea for a moment then he nodded an approval.
“Good, Lara. I’m glad you’ve got your head screwed on and are sensible. I’ll set up a proper meeting with Inonge and Enoch so you can discuss expectations together. My secretary has drawn up a draft contract with figures that you and I can talk about and I expect you will make your own arrangements to discuss this all with Helen. We would be planning on making our first trip to the Tin Heart Camp in early April – you are busy with your solo exhibition at the Umodzi before that, aren’t you? It should work out well for us all I think.”
“There’s another thing about the Tin Heart Camp.” Lara said “I probably will want to finish the paintings here in Chambeshi City or even have to wait to begin them till I am back. Working in the bush has problems – never mind the difficulty of transporting large canvases back to town. I also won’t be able to work so well at night even if you have electricity generators and cooling fans. I think I might need another role besides being the camp artist. Inonge and Enoch need to feel they can get on with me. I have to fit in with them so I’ll see what they want and if I can do it.”
“Very practical of you, Lara.” Oscar again approved. “What extra work do you have in mind? Inonge said pretty much the same thing about you.”
Chapter Five
Enoch and Inonge
When Lara first met Inonge she immediately liked her. Inonge had a friendly manner that was unassuming and kind. She had the polite African way of not looking directly at Lara when she spoke to her but Lara trusted her at once. It was clear that she was very practical and used to working hard as indeed she had done all her life. Inonge’s proud father had somehow managed to pay for her education as a school teacher. Lara found it hard to believe that Inonge was Enoch Junior’s mother. She appeared far too young to have a son who was a medical student in Britain.
Oscar had arranged the meeting with Enoch and Inonge for himself and Lara as promised. It went well. As Enoch said, Lara’s experience with Bill and Maria meant that her excursions to draw and to sketch would tie in with the camp wildlife guides as they explored the bush to set up bird hides and view points and decide on the routes for safaris. When Lara said she had looked after the camp stores and the housekeeping for Maria, Inonge nodded in appreciation.
“Good. You can help me in the evenings with that side of the business. Enoch will be supervising the building of the store rooms, kitchen, bar and lounge. We are providing tented accommodation along the river bank. Oscar wants it to look rather like a film set from the 30s I think.”
Inonge smiled at Oscar. She had obviously teased him about this before.
“Oscar is the Great Game Camp Pretender, Lara!” Inonge said.
“Most safari camps are run by white people.” Enoch explained. “It is still the age of romance about the Great White Hunter turned Great White Conservationist. To succeed with overseas clients Chambeshians like us really have to be the best.”
“One day we will have Chambeshian clients who can afford to come on safari and who also want to save wild animals – I know.” Inonge ducked her chin in a little stubborn mannerism that would soon be familiar to Lara.
Once Jason had said right out in front of his Chambeshian colleagues and the other African workers, “Well – what can you expect from Africans – they have no interest in wildlife conservation and their leaders are all corrupt, you know.”
Lara still remembered the horrid uncomfortable silence that greeted his words. Jason had not blinked. He was quite unaware of the impact of his statement. At the time Lara was in love with Jason and it was easier to have double standards than to be critical of him. She slept with him with the knowledge that he would be shocked to find out that her previous lover had been Ajay, a brown-skinned Sikh.
Bloody hell! Lara thought remembering Jason, Sex is never about sleeping with people who have enlightened opinions or are ‘good’ people – supposing you could know for certain who was ‘good’ before you kissed them!
Who might be a ‘good’ person to sleep with? Tim probably was – but would he be a good lover – he was a good friend – did that mean he might be a good husband? Now Oscar…
Lara’s gaze shifted momentarily to Oscar as he and Enoch pored over some maps of the Tin Heart Camp. Her instinct told her Oscar – was not ‘good’ – but – was he sexy?
Lara made her mind turn away from sex with Oscar though her pulse had already quickened at the idea.
Enoch was definitely ‘good’ and obviously a very good husband and father too. Inonge clearly believed so. Would Enoch Junior be like his father and be a ‘good’ person to sleep with and then to stay with for all one’s life?
Oscar looked up at Lara and smiled. She smiled back. It was a small complicit smile as if they had shared something.
Did Oscar guess she was thinking about sex?
Lara put her head up a fraction. She was no pushover – that she felt confident about, but the pit of her stomach tightened with excitement all the same.
Chapter Six
Making a Living from Art
Lara had enjoyed talking to Oscar about painting and why she made art. Though he said he would help her make money from her art and he was clear that making money was a necessary objective for any person, he seemed to feel as cynical as she did about the art market. Curiously and contradictorily he supported her in the idea of making art for herself even if she remained worse off for it. They had only too easily wandered away from a discussion about Lara’s pay-and-conditions at their first meeting.
“I’m not being romantic about art and the bohemian lifestyle artists are supposed to want,” Oscar said. “The world has a way of not turning out as one expects and there is no morality in the way it works. Of course you need to make a living but it is not the same thing as making art. I have seen artists whose work was at one time considered subversive and politically dangerous so they were prevented from making art in their own personal way. Those artists couldn’t change their way of seeing the world and making art – oh yes some did give up and try to paint differently but they were the ones who usually suffered most because they lost their souls. You mustn’t betray yourself Lara, even if you betray other people.”
Lara couldn’t imagine a world that wasn’t ruled by morality in some degree and she could not imagine betraying anyone else either. Her expression must have given her away because Oscar laughed at her, though not unkindly.
“Well”, he continued, “I am ready to do pretty much anything to make money. I expect you have been told that about me – but I would say, Lara – don’t sell out yourself to make money. You will become a factory unit producing identikit art. If you are heart and soul an artist then you will always be changing and exploring. You will need freedom from commercial considerations to do that. Some artists make it big and get rich but they lose their freedom – and they lose time – you need time to explore what you are making. Don’t worry. We’ll do our best to make money for you from your art. If not we’ll make money for you anyway and anyhow – so you will have the freedom to make art.”