Bids flew in silence. They came in nods and taps of a finger, flapping of paddles and raising of hands. Your attention was elsewhere. What the others were after was not your concern, nor were you bound to profit from it. Few artists do at such a stage. Still you wanted to attend.
You said you wanted to know your value. I questioned going to such a place, to be amongst such people, to ascertain such a thing. But you insisted. And I relented.
When it came to your work I left. I didn’t want to be there, though I would know what happened. I put the work up after all. I sold a gift from you. So it could enter some anonymous warehouse and be unseen for generations. All so someone could speculate and say you, your work, was of great value. Not for the public or culture, or even what it’d done to move art in a new direction, but for their bank account. And all tax free.
I wish you hadn’t dropped by. You were so good about the whole thing. Accepting that I had to sell it, yet never asking why. Why not? Did you really need to know your value that badly. Did you not understand what your gift meant to me.
I guess not. I never asked. Maybe that’s why we worked so well for so long as friends, but ultimately failed. We didn’t think to ask the other how they felt. And then I left the auction. Not to leave you mind you. But because I had an appointment. I just took it as an opportunity to avoid the disappointment in your eyes. If there really was any.
Today’s art is courtesy of Minna Salminen from Helsinki, Finland.