excerpt
Ken walked out of the gallery triumphant. He had actually sold some
paintings in this new country! The amount of money didn’t matter – he
had sold his paintings – and not just to anyone – to the legendary Alex
Fraser! And no one he knew actually sold paintings – they gave them to
galleries on consignment!
He threw himself into his painting with renewed enthusiasm. Alex
Fraser had called his Arctic paintings rubbish, but he was too pleased
with his success to dwell on one small disappointment.
Ken painted, but as the weeks passed his trepidation returned. What
if Fraser rejected him next time? One day, the telephone rang. He recognized
Doreen’s voice. “Mr. Kirkby, Mr. Fraser would like to have a word
with you.”
“Do you bloody know the English language?” Fraser shouted down
the line.
“I dare say I do.”
“I don’t bloody think so. Tell me, what does the word soon mean?”
“I guess it’s all relative.”
“Don’t get smart with me. When I say soon, I mean soon.”
“Yes but is that two hours? Two minutes? Two weeks?”
“I told you, don’t get smart with me. Do you have any paintings?”
“I do.”
“Well what the bloody hell are they doing there? They’re no good there!
You’ve got to bring them here.”
“All right, I’ll bring them.”
“Now.”
“I was going to shower…”
“That stuff doesn’t matter. Get in your bloody truck and bring me your
paintings.”
Ken hung up, picked up a stack of paintings, including a couple of
Arctic canvases, and drove to the gallery. Once again, he propped the
paintings against the walls while Fraser went into a reverie. Thirty minutes
passed. “That one and that one,” pointing his finger at the Arctic
landscapes, “They’re rubbish. I told you already. Don’t you listen? They’re
rubbish.”
“Well what’s bad about them?”
“They’re just rubbish. It’s plain to see. I suppose you’re one of those
who’s in love with that bunch of idiots called, the Group of Seven. They’re
rubbish too, you know.”
“I think they’re marvellous,” Ken said.
“Well that shows you how weak your mind is. What do you want for
these?”
“I suppose a hundred and fifty dollars each.”
Fraser shook his head and sighed. “We have to do a lot of work on you,
Libros Libertad 