Art. Hmph.

When I got in this morning, there was a call from Monica at The Compound, telling me that the waiting list ahead of me had cleared, and there were four Kawasakis unsold. The call had arrived a little while after I left work to go to First Thursday, and the gallery. I would have been able to see Monica and buy a painting last night, but The Compound wasn’t letting anyone in before 7pm. That’s their prerogative, of course, but it was a little frustrating for the crowd-avoidant, and unexpected, as the place is also a retail business.

So, let’s get the count: I went once to see the paintings, knowing I couldn’t purchase anything because of the waiting list. Fine, I understand. Then I went again Thursday evening, to be turned away at the (unlocked, for some reason) door.

So after I picked up the message this morning, I decided to hoof it down there as soon as they opened, to see if I could snag a painting. I should have called first, yesiree. I arrived, windblown and pink-faced, to discover that Monica wasn’t there. She had “celebrated a little too much” the night before, and wouldn’t be in. I asked if either of the other two employees there could handle art sales. Nope, only Monica.

I trudged upstairs to the gallery. I found three of the paintings without “sold” stickers, not four. One of the three was gorgeous, and I would happily take it home, even though I could get three or four computers for the price. But I’ve been there three times with my wallet out, only to be foiled. Once was fine, twice was nearly tolerable, but thrice?

I spent a long time with the paintings. I looked closely, to see how she draws the figures in pencil then colors them delicately, leaving an ephemeral mark on the wood. Then I walked away.

Comments are closed.