The Painting

Brett carefully hung the canvas on the wall as Grant watched. Then he took a few steps back and they both admired the piece.

“Wow. Just wow. Look at the colors and the lines on this,” said Brett.

Grant said, “Yes. It’s unique, isn’t it? The title “Grandfather” suits it perfectly.

“Ah, yes. And I can see it, can’t you? Those lines there. Do you see?”

The abstract painting had several colors - tans, blues, and grays. Deep lines that perhaps represented wrinkles (or perhaps did not, one never can be entirely certain) gave the painting interest.

“Yes, I see.” said Brett, his voice calm and quiet. It was his practiced voice.

That section of the art display had been set aside for new artists. The auction would start the next day.

Jacob was the artist of the painting that he had titled “Grandfather.” He was very excited to have his work shown and to be given the chance to sell. He had sold only one painting so far, and that was to his friend’s girlfriend, so almost didn’t count. It was a portrait of a movie star. It was not abstract.

“Grandfather” was not abstract either, an important fact that Brett and Grant had missed. As it was, they first saw the painting upside down. And they failed to see what was right there! So, the painting was displayed on the wall incorrectly and assumed to be abstract. To be fair, the hardware on the back had been placed by Jacob’s brother. And sometimes Jacob’s brother was a moron. (But don't judge Jacob too harshly. Everyone’s a moron at least once.) Brett had hung the painting according to the hardware.

The reader has the benefit of this knowledge. Jacob, poor unsuspecting Jacob, did not. Imagine his shock the next day when he arrived at the auction and after viewing many other pieces, came to his own painting. A group of three or four people stood in front of it. Jacob stood off to the side, horrified that his work could not be seen as it had been intended. His painting, which was in fact a portrait of his father’s father, not just named so, was stupidly hanging upside down! His father’s hat, so carefully done (and redone three times!) was at the bottom of the canvas!

But what to do? He could hardly clear his throat and say authoritatively, “Excuse me. Someone really messed up. This is my painting, and it’s upside down! Let me correct this massive mistake and allow you to see what I painted!” Maybe he could. No. This was a fancy, quiet event.

Instead, he stood planted to the spot and listened.

“Brilliant.”

Jacob almost choked. Brilliant? Really?

“So thought-provoking.”

“That’s because your brain is trying to tell you that it’s upside down, you fool!” thought Jacob, silently. Really, these people call themselves critics?

“I’m buying it,” said another firmly, in a tone that suggested that she meant it, that she didn’t care about the price. This was an auction! How could she be so sure? Yet, she sounded very determined.

Jacob nearly fell over. Someone wanted his (upside down!) painting. Should he be flattered that even upside down it was good, or should he be offended that they somehow didn’t notice? He didn’t know.

He turned, walked away, and headed for the bathroom. There, he splashed some cold water on his face. As he looked up and met his own eyes in the mirror, he chuckled. “Well.”

There wasn’t much else to say.