Pinhole's Blog

Closing Time

Pinhole — Fri, 09 Jul 2010 04:53:01 GMT

Sales attract diverse clientele. Before permanently closing the gallery where I’ve been working since before Christmas, everything was discounted by 80% of its original price. This kind of sale attracts a sublevel of humanity thought only to exist on screen, or in celebrity memoirs.

During our last week a fellow wandered in who looked as though he had just awakened and realized his backseat was devoid of adequate artwork. If he had been pondering something when he fell asleep the previous evening behind his steering wheel, it wasn’t where he last left his comb, or whether he had recently purchased deodorant.

As he made the rounds of our most prominent displays he seemed to be counting the prints more than examining them for aesthetic value. With no obvious eye for category or dimension he thumbed the inventory like an accountant on speed. About an hour later he approached the counter with three matted prints: a portrait of Robert E. Lee mounted on his trusty steed, John Wayne striking a Madonna-like pose in full Alamo regalia, and Jesus Christ.

After he made his purchase I was too busy to wonder at the mental processes that led to those particular selections, but around closing time curiosity began stalking the cat. I can certainly appreciate eclectic taste, but am having some trouble with this mix. I suppose he could put Lee and Wayne in the back windows (Wayne on the right), and hang Jesus from the rear-view mirror.

I didn’t have long to worry about it because the next morning a lady came in wearing a live parrot on her head and asked if we carried talking canvases that would mount themselves on her wall at command. I asked the name of her pet and she said, “What parrot?”

I have a feeling that my next job (providing I find one) will seem rather pedestrian.

Well, Hello Dalí

Pinhole — Thu, 08 Apr 2010 02:22:00 GMT

While rearranging prints last night in the gallery I accidentally put Syd Barrett and Vincent van Gogh in the same sleeve. Individually each artist is well beyond talented, extremely intelligent and certifiably nuts. Get them together and not only will discussions reach unseen heights, but the atmosphere will go from marginally insane to batshit.

I hadn’t realized my error until I turned off the music in the shop to close for the night and heard mutterings from the bin on the west wall. As I inched closer I overheard van Gogh,”…used to talk to a god, but I don’t remember its name or what it was in charge of. And now I’ve heard that they’ve made a telescope that enables mankind to see this god’s teeth, and it turns out they haven’t been brushed since Rembrandt was a baby. That’s probably how doubt was created. Who can place their full belief in a being that doesn’t practice proper dental hygiene? I used to know a fellow named Gene, and I always had to stifle a laugh when I greeted him on the street. What was his last name?…”

Normally reserved and not prone to fits of speech, Syd took advantage of a rare thought-induced pause in Vincent’s monologue to interject, “I have more gods than I need. I’d be happy to make you a loan of one, if you like. I keep them in small compartments for handy access.”

”Do you have a god to recapture innocence and absorb pain? If not, licking your paint brush can imitate the desired effect.”

Just for grins I slipped a copy of “The Persistence of Memory” into the bin as I left, and other than Dalí’s giggling things got really quiet.

As I locked the gate to the shop I heard a slurping sound, then van Gogh asking Syd, “How would you depict ecstasy; with daggers, or irises?”

Pinhole's Blog

Closing Time

Well, Hello Dalí

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