by A B Turner
“I’ll take half now, the other half payable on collection.”
I sighed and paid the money, while saying to myself, over and over again, it would all be worth it, because it was for Cal. If the pictures sold, I might even get some of my money back, so with this last comforting -if potentially unlikely- thought in my mind, I drove back to my place.
A few days later, Cyrus called to let me know, we would all be back to work on Saturday,
“Our days of freedom are over, so we have to return and wade our way through the murky waters of up and coming artists,” he moaned, “Let’s hope they’re not too dreadful, oh and bring gloves, I don’t want you catching anything.”
I laughed,
“What could I possibly catch?”
“Oh who knows? Mediocrity?”
I glanced at the now-framed pictures, I felt a slight moment of panic, as the reality of what I was about to do, suddenly seemed to hit me,
“They might be good,” I relied hopefully, I heard Cyrus sigh,
“Anything is possible, I suppose, but having done so many of these now, I don’t hold out much hope, having been treated to viewing misshapen nudes and landscapes that only belong in a doctor’s waiting room.”
“Cyrus! Has anyone ever told you, you’re an art snob?” I asked, quite enjoying his obvious distaste at what was to come,
“I am no snob!” he shot back, “I just want every exhibition to showcase the best we can find, not wannabees who think swirling huge dollops of paint on a canvas makes them Van Gogh.”
I chuckled and sat back as he ranted about his love of great art that inspires something other than the need to throw up somewhere. When he had finally finished, we said our goodbyes having agreed we would support each other through the ‘nightmare’ to come. I looked again at Cal’s work,
“They are good,” I said to myself, while hoping Cyrus would be so distracted by the ‘horror’ of others, he might not even notice, they were there. It was unquestionably risky, to rely on him missing something, which was why I had planned to include Cal’s work, once the rest of the display was finished, a kind of ‘hiding them in plain sight.’ If I could find a time during the night, before the exhibition opened to the public, he would have no choice but to accept them being there. I knew he’d be angry, more accurately, furious with me, but if they sold? Where was the harm? Cal would be happy, the gallery wouldn’t have lost any money and, in time, Cyrus would have to accept, he had been wrong this time. As often as I repeated the plan to myself, I still had this nagging feeling in my gut, that if this went wrong, the consequences could be far worse than I could imagine,
“So I’ll just have to make sure it all works out,” I said out loud, in an effort to soothe my nerves, but the feeling was still there and proving hard to ignore.
The sun had barely risen when I walked to the gallery in the morning, Cal’s paintings were still at my place, as I’d decided it might be safer to wait and see how things went before bringing them, where they could obviously be discovered. I was thankful I had been so cautious, as when I arrived, the main doors were unlocked and I could see Cyrus through the weighted glass, as soon as he saw me, he waved me in. As I looked round, there didn’t seem to be anything particularly different considering we had been closed for a week, other than the slight aroma of fresh pain still hanging in the air.
“Hello my darling, what do you think?” Cyrus asked, when he saw my slightly confused expression, he chuckled,
“Yes, it’s not exactly a massive transformation, is it? But the lighting has been improved and the office looks a lot better, sadly we still have these ghastly things..” he tapped one of the floor cushions with the toe of his highly-polished shoe.
“Oh I’ve always liked them,” I replied, Cyrus looked at me quizzically,
“I sometimes wonder if you’ve learnt anything from me at all.”
I smiled,
“Oh I have, where to find the best mojitos in the city, how to make somebody leave your bed in the morning without causing offence and most importantly, never forget you know everything.”
Cyrus bowed his head solemnly,
“I retract my previous statement, clearly you are learning, my child.”
Before I could answer, Caroline and Jack arrived and looked, at first, excitedly around and then with the same confusion as I had felt,
“It doesn’t look any different,” said Jack, obviously disappointed, Caroline scanned the walls and disappeared quickly into the office,
“Oh this is better,” she called out, “More space and better furnishings.”
Jack shrugged his shoulders,
“Not that exciting though, is it?”
Cyrus and I both laughed while agreeing with his assessment, none of us had been sure of what to expect, but we’d obviously been anticipating something more. Suddenly music started playing, we all glanced around,
“Where’s that coming from?” asked Cyrus, merely voicing what Jack and I were thinking, as we continued to try and find the source, the music suddenly stopped again and some kind of rainfall noise began in its place.
“Is there a leak somewhere?” I asked, Caroline reappeared and smiled broadly at our confusion,
“There’s a new sound system now, there’s a choice of music or natural sounds,” she pointed to a previously unseen small speaker in each corner of the room, “the sound playing now, is Aztec Rainfall, it’s supposed to promote calm and peace.”
Cyrus looked at her with incredulity,
“All its going to promote is umbrella sales at best, or a rush to the bathrooms at worst, switch if off!”
“I don’t know, Cyrus, I quite like it,” interrupted Jack, but he was quickly silenced by Cyrus’s angry glare,
“Well then have it playing at your own home,” he snapped, “This is supposed to be an art gallery, not a shopping mall.”
Caroline came out of the office again,
“The sound system is off completely now, although there is a note from the gallery owner, he wants it playing during every exhibition, our only input is to choose the most appropriate track.”
Cyrus groaned theatrically, clutching his forehead,
“Oh wonderful! Oh why did I come back? I was having such a wonderful time away…ah well..at least we must be over the worst.”
I could have bet money on Cyrus having spoken too soon, as the next sound we all heard, was a hearty knock on the glass door. A delivery driver waved and started unloading his truck, which was undoubtedly crates of the artwork for the new artists exhibition. As he brought them to the door, Jack, Caroline and I carefully brought them inside as Cyrus checked each crate off the delivery note, claiming he wasn’t really designed for manual labour while citing the expense of his new shoes. Once everything was unloaded and the driver was on his way, we started to unpack the boxes. It became pretty clear, there were way too many pictures to be displayed at the same time, so we all came to the conclusion, we would split them over two nights and then the best, would be shown on the third. It was a very slow process, unwrapping each one in turn, examining the work and coming to a joint decision about the quality – naturally Cyrus pretended to hate them all as they were ‘amateur’, but some did catch his eye, even though he was loath to admit that fact. As for me, I never forgot Cal’s work and tried to measure his against these, as far as skill and image effectiveness were concerned. Although it was pretty clear, many were infinitely better, there were thankfully some, which were nothing less than dreadful. After several hours, we had lined up the works which would be displayed on the first night, there was a wide range of styles and subjects, which would give the invited audience something to appreciate, whichever form they enjoyed.
“These must be, on average 60/40 on quality,” Cyrus explained, “We need to start positively, but then again, not show everything on the opening night only to have a weak second.”
Jack unboxed another painting and held it up so we could all see it,
“Where
does this one belong?” he asked, we all turned to look, it appeared to be a bright orange female nude, but all the proportions were wildly distended and highlighted in lime green, on the head, seemed to be a particularly sinister looking crow-like bird.
“That’s troubling,” said Caroline quietly, she moved forward and peered closer, “I’m not absolutely sure there’s only paint on there.”
Cyrus glanced anxiously at me and then walked to her side,
“Look there,” she continued, pointing towards the figure’s orange thighs, “There’s some kind of lump effect.”
Cyrus looked even closer and agreed with her,
“Any idea what could have caused that?” he asked, she shook her head and said she would research the artist, as that might shed some light on the mysterious substance. Jack seemed to be studying the back of the frame with such intensity, I walked over to see what had captured his attention. As soon as I looked, I saw a small white square of paper glued to the frame, the typeface was so small, I had to lean in to read, it said, ‘my own bodily fluids and emissions are within my work.’ I looked at Jack,
“You don’t think that means…” I began, he nodded slowly,
“I think it does,” he replied, completely unable to hide his distaste for this revelation, “That’s just so wrong.”
Caroline peeked around the large frame,
“What’s wrong?” she asked, when I explained, her expression changed from curiosity to mild horror,
“Oh that is troubling,” she said, frowning heavily, “There may well be a need for some kind of covering for this picture, it could be a health hazard.”
Cyrus, who by now, had walked away from the work and was busily rifling through the paperwork for the exhibition, looked back at us,
“It’s most definitely a health hazard, mainly mine and anyone else who has to look at the hideous thing.”
Caroline scurried over to his side,
“Oh there’s more than how it looks Cyrus,” she said quietly and then whispered in his ear, Cyrus gasped and then groaned,
“Oh this is too much! I mean first we have some Godawful muzak and now we have whatever oozed out of some weirdo’s butt smeared on a canvas! I did not sign up for this!”
Before saying any more, he stormed into the office and slammed the door behind him, only a matter of moments later, he reappeared, somewhat sheepishly,
“It seems I did sign up for this, so we’d better find a home for this monstrosity.”
By late evening, the first evening’s display was ready for viewing and we had largely decided on the second night, thanks to my careful intervention, I had managed to save three spots throughout the gallery on the second night. I had suggested to Cyrus, it might be useful to keep some space free, in case, the first night seemed a little overcrowded. Fortunately, he was receptive to this idea, which meant, during the changeover from one night to the next, I should be able to put Cal’s pictures in with the others without drawing unwanted attention. When I arrived back, I felt more confident with the plan, so I called Cal and told him his paintings would be in the exhibition, he was overjoyed and asked if he could come and see them. I knew if Cyrus saw him at the gallery, he might well be suspicious, so I quickly told Cal, it was only for an invited audience, adding
“I wish you could come, Cal, but the tickets were sent out months ago.”
“Oh right,” he said sadly, “It would have been amazing.”
“I know,” I said, hating myself for the growing lie I was telling him,” But if this goes well, you can come to the next one, or maybe even have an exhibition of your own.”
My last comment instantly lifted his spirits and I spent the next hour, listening him talk excitedly about his new work, his hopes for becoming a professional artist and his dreams of how this might change his life. I knew I should have felt terrible at my blatant deceit, but just to hear him sound so positive, made it seem almost the right thing to have done. After we’d said goodnight, I walked over to the large window and thought again about what I had planned, I could still feel the nagging doubt in the pit of my stomach, but now I’d told Cal, I had to go through with the idea, there was no turning back.
“And who knows?” I said aloud, “It might all work out.”
The first night of the exhibition was a blur of flashbulbs and crowds, with Cyrus, Caroline, Jack and me, desperately trying to answer questions, serve drinks and talk coherently – all at the same time. All this with the added pressure of trying to look after the few artists who had been brave enough to face not only an audience but the press too. Some appeared to have not even a hint of nerves, whereas others resembled rabbits caught in headlights, with at least two, making a dash for the back door to escape the public gaze. Throughout the chaos, pictures were being sold and the exhibition itself, widely praised, which left Cyrus beaming, as he had to report back to the owners. After everyone had left, Cyrus ordered us to go home and sleep, as we were destined to repeat the madness the following night. I didn’t sleep, or at least, I didn’t sleep for long, as I kept staring at Cal’s pictures, which were now ready to be hung as soon as I saw an opportunity. After over an hour of looking at them, I clambered out of bed and moved them out of my room and into the hallway, as my nerves had now taken control and, if I had any hope of calming them, those pictures had to be out of sight. The next morning began the same as the one before, only this time, we had to package the sold pictures and carefully repack those which had not been bought – amazingly, the orange nude had been purchased. When Cyrus saw this on the list he shook his head,
“Now I know your taste, Mrs Wilden-Forbes, I shall be more careful about sending you invitations.”
We had almost finished the display for the second night, when the office phone rang, Caroline raced to answer, only to return seconds later, to tell Cyrus, the gallery owner wanted to speak with him. As soon as Cyrus closed the office door behind him, I knew this was my chance to get Cal’s pictures on the wall, but Caroline and Jack were sure to notice, it seemed impossible until, luckily for me, Jack announced he was hungry.
“You should go and get some lunch for us all,” I suggested trying to sound calm, even though my whole body felt as if it was riddled with anxiety.
“Good idea,” he replied gratefully, “Are you coming?” he asked Caroline, when she hesitated, I quickly insisted she went, on the premise, some fresh air would do her good. As soon as they had left, I crept over to the office door and was relieved to hear Cyrus still deep in conversation. After another quick look at the main doors, I went to the back cupboard where I had hidden Cal’s pictures earlier, thankfully, when I had arrived, the others had been preoccupied with last night sales to really notice me, also I had taken the precaution of covering them with my coat. I knew I only had a few minutes, so I swiftly rearranged some of the previously- hung pictures, making spaces for Cal’s work. My heart was pounding against my chest in raw panic, as my fingers struggled to get hooks and wire in place. I kept glancing back at the office and then to the front door, hoping against hope, I might just get this done before the other reappeared. As soon as the first two were in place, I practically ran with the third one to the back of the gallery, I was just about to hang the picture, when someone took it from my hands, I felt my whole stomach flip with horror at being caught, I could barely manage to look round, feeling completely sure I’d see Cyrus, but it was Jack,
“Was this one not right?” he asked, his large trusting eyes looking straight into mine
“No,” I stammered, “It looked a little crooked.”
Jack carefully put the picture back up and we both stood back,
“That’s better,” he said, “Now let’s eat.”
At first, I couldn’t move, my legs were shaking so violently, I felt clammy and almost nauseous, I had put those pictures up and now, there was no way of taking them down. That nagging doubt was now screeching in my ears,
“You’re going to get caught!”
When the off
ice door burst open, I nearly fainted, Cyrus strode through the gallery, without looking either left or right, stopping only when he reached the doors,
“I have to go, but I’ll try and be back before the opening, if not, just do everything you can, as well as you can.”
As he swept out of the doors, I practically collapsed on to the nearest floor cushion, the sheer relief at now knowing, it was going to be alright, after all, by the time he got back, the exhibition would be packed and he might not even realise the pictures had even been there. All I had to do, was get them down quickly and hide them again, perhaps just before the doors closed, as I knew Caroline and Jack would be at the front of the gallery. After a few moments, to give my whole body time to regain some level of composure, I stood up and went to join Caroline and Jack. We devoured our lunch before preparing all the relevant literature for the guests, lining up wine glasses and just making sure everything was perfect. For most of the afternoon, I felt relaxed, but every so often, I noticed Caroline pause in front of one of Cal’s pictures, she looked thoughtful and even slightly confused,
“You know, I don’t remember unpacking this one at all,” she said before moving along to the next part of the display,
“This doesn’t look familiar either,” she mused, my mind raced, trying to find some plausible reason why there were now, actually three pictures hanging, which weren’t there before, fortunately -yet again – Jack came to my rescue,
“We all put up different ones, Caroline, and there were all those from last night too, so it would be pretty hard to remember them all,” he said, she nodded her agreement, but there was no ignoring the fact, she wasn’t sure, he was right. Once more, time was on my side, and before she could think for too much longer, we had to open the doors and low the growing crowd of guests into the gallery. As before, soon the place was packed, news from the first night had spread and there seemed to be twice as many people milling about. Some had obviously attended the previous night, whereas others were avidly gazing at the artwork and loudly offering their thoughts to anyone who would listen. The crowd was so dense, much as I tried, I couldn’t get near to any of Cal’s pictures to see if they’d been sold, so I resolved to wait until later, also, I was aware of the danger of showing too much interest in three pictures amongst a collection of over sixty. As the evening wore on, I felt more and more at ease, as each hour that passed got me closer to being able to take his pictures down before anyone really noticed – especially Cyrus. Almost as soon as his name crossed my mind, I noticed him amongst the guests, he looked relaxed and happy, moving through the guests with consummate ease, apparently paying attention to every word they said, while he made his way through the room. When he reached my side, he smiled and then leaned over,