He walked down the row, looking around him. Not another person walked the halls of the gallery. This wing, although new looking with waxed floors and fresh white paint, was unoccupied. The patron walked quickly, passing hundreds of paintings without looking at a single one. He simply looked forward with his head down, trying his best not to notice any bright colors or shapes that might catch his eye. He continued to power forward, until he came across the path of another man. This man, like himself, wore a well pressed suit, as one does when surrounded by art. The man was looking at a painting attentively, surely appreciating it like it was intended. The patron walked up to the man and said, “Quite a lovely painting, isn’t it?“ The other man looked over to him and replied back, “How can you tell?“ The patron looked up to see that the painting this man was looking at was facing in the wrong direction. The wire hanging it up poked from the back of the frame into the wall to secure it. The patron stared at it and said to the man, “Why is that painting backwards?“ The man just looked over to him and answered, “I’m the artist. I put it up like that.“ The patron looked to the artist and studied him. He was much like himself, tall, thin, young and aware. He stared at this backwards frame as intensely as one would a masterpiece in the main hall. The patron asked, “Why have you put up your painting backwards?“ assuming it was some sort of meta analysis of art. Perhaps a metaphorical expression he hadn’t considered before. But the artist simply said, “Because I’m not allowed to put it any other way.“
The patron looked even more confused than he did when he first laid eyes upon the painting. “Who told you it must be displayed like this?“ The patron wondered aloud, hoping the artist would say that his artistic mind instinctually told him to do this in a display of creativity. But the artist said, “The curator said it must be displayed like this. It wasn’t my choice.“ The patron did not understand why any curator would make such a decision.
“Why not just turn it around, just for a moment? I would love to see what it looks like,“ The patron said. The artist took his hand from under his folded arms and pointed to the painting wire. “You see that little dot where the wire touches the wall? That’s a sensor. If I lift or turn this painting around, the alarm will sound and they will charge you with stealing.“ The patron furrowed his brow, disappointed by the fact that he could not think of a way to bypass this obstacle and see the painting. He thought of a few schemes, but none of them panned out in his mind.
“Why not just ask for the painting back?“ the patron suggested, “Put it in a gallery where it will be appreciated properly.“ The artist laughed and shook his head. “I can’t ask for it back. It was in a gallery. The price is higher now than what I was paid for it. Besides, there aren’t any other galleries around to display it in anyway.“ The patron felt defeated, resigned to the idea that he’d never see what the painting was.
“Well next time you make a painting, just display it in your house. At least then your friends and family will be able to appreciate it. Now that the curator has done this to your first painting, you can keep this from happening again.“ the patron thought, trying to circumvent this annoyance from reoccurring. The artist just shook his head, “This isn’t the first painting I’ve put into this gallery. This is my third actually. They’re also backwards. All the art here is backwards.“ The patron panicked, looking around to see to his horror that every painting in the whole gallery was facing in the wrong direction. The patron became angry.
“Then why be an artist in the first place if the only gallery displays all its art in a way it can’t be appreciated? Why not just make a blank canvas and submit that? You’ll get money for art and you won’t have to do any work.“ The artist stared lovingly at the backwards frame as if he was looking at the real thing. “No, the curator would only take a truly inspired piece of art. That is what it means to be displayed in a gallery after all.“ The patron was livid.
The artist looked away from his painting at back at the patron, who seemed deeply angered by what he was being told. “It’s fine,“ the artist assured him, “I know what the painting looks like. All is not lost. You might not be able to see it, but I can tell you about it.“ The patron looked less angry now that there was still something he could appreciate. He dissipated his red faced anger and said, “I would like that very much.“ The artist looked back to his painting and stared for a few more moments before beginning.
“The painting was of a skyscraper. One I quite admired. Its design was amazing. The craftsmanship was perfect. Everything about it was so appealing I knew I had to capture its beauty. It was demolished a week ago, so I knew I had to paint it before it was destroyed forever.“ The two of them stared at the blank frame for a moment and thought.
“You know, I actually worked on that skyscraper. I was a contractor that helped build it,“ the patron admitted, “Once it was done, the mayor scheduled it for demolition.“















