excerpt
“Five hundred dollars. The price is now ten-five.”
“That’s ridiculous. I’ll give you nine.”
Ken shrugged. “Eleven thousand dollars.”
“That’s ridicu…”
“Eleven thousand five hundred.”
“Okay. I’ll give you a cheque for ten thousand.”
“No you won’t. Eleven-five. I told you, those are the terms. You’re on my
territory, my terms, my talent, my everything. All you have is money.”
She glared at him, opened her cheque book and wrote out a cheque for
eleven thousand five hundred dollars.
Diane framed and shipped the painting. He suspected that as soon as
the woman hung it, she threw a cocktail party, inviting all her friends to
come and admire her new acquisition, and to hear the scandalous story
of how mortifyingly she had been insulted by the artist – because within
days, a parade of chauffeur-driven cars began to arrive. The women who
emerged from these cars were desperate to purchase a painting and endure
the same astonishing insults. His attitude was the attraction, and he
gave them what they wanted in bucketfuls. In only a few weeks, he sold
about four hundred thousand dollars worth of paintings – more than he
ever had before in one short span of time.
When Ken ran out of paintings at the studio, the women descended on
the Carrier Gallery; when it sold out, they placed orders. The longer the
waiting list, the more anxious they were to acquire a painting. Finally, he
had to tell the women that the list was at least two years long.
When he was alone, he painted in a sort of reverie. The hard work had
been done. Isumataq had been painted on the canvas of his mind. All
that was left was to put paint on real canvas. In this dreamlike state, he
let his mind wander, and again and again it came back to Nunavut. Now
that government committees were discussing it and holding meetings,
he pondered the political intricacies of this thing he had helped to set in
motion.
What will happen? How will it come about? How will the whole thing
come together? This will be the largest land claim in human history – everything
from the Coppermine River to the North Pole and down to the borders
of Labrador. It’s one of the biggest chunks of the second-biggest country in
the world, inhabited by tiny groups of people scattered across the land. On a
human to square mile basis, it’s probably the least populated place on earth.
I suppose there would have to be a referendum. Would it be for all the people
in Canada or would it be for the people living in the Northwest Territories?
All of the Northwest Territories? Part of the Northwest Territories? And if
there is a referendum and it passes, then what? This could open up a Pandora’s
Box. Look at French and English Canada and what a scenario that is.
Here, we’re going to separate the Arctic – this could be dangerous territory…
Libros Libertad 