The exhibition opening

An except of my 15th book a novel, to be published soon.

A post impressionistic career

An excerpt

The time was five minutes to eight but the contemporary art hall where the opening took place was already crowded, with relatives and close friends mainly.

I wouldn't have believed that this good for nothing has so many friends? Tsevieli wondered while he mingled among the crowd's rear rows, and waited for the beginning of the opening ceremony.

But the two huge paintings that were hanging on the opposite wall before the crowd, were not the good for nothing's creations to his surprise; and the good for nothing was not present… Thus Tsevieli who came in at the last moment almost did bother to pick a promo leaflet and cast a glimpse at the board, which announced the exhibition's title and the artist's name below it as soon as he entered the museum. 

He joined the crowd wondering who the hell could be the painter of these two monstrous paintings.…

But despite his experience Tsevieli could not define these huge paintings' category, and he did not know who the painter is, it was quite a nasty feeling; just to think of it, he the art critic is at a loss. He was glad no one came along with him, and that he did not meet anyone that knows who he is in that crowd.   

the new assigned curator, an ambitious young man stood on the small stage under the paintings, with the museum deputy manager and exchanged a few words with his superior; while who the painter is Tsevieli learned at last from the bits and fragments of talk all around him. It was an unknown American youth that agreed to send his only two works to the Museum, works that were done with several hundred broken china plates, which he collected from various Manhattan restaurants. Tsevieli with his five years of art criticism experience found it rather strange, particularly as these peculiar paintings were as large as Velasquez "The Surrender of Breda", and there was no comparison of course between Velasquez master piece and these amateurish works.

At about ten past eight the curator asked the crowd to be silent, and after a few seconds he opened up the exhibition officially and in his speech explained how he met the artist in New York and the incredible impression his works made on the local American media, and that's why he asked the painter to exhibit his "fabulous" works in the museum. He did not say a thing about the museum expanses due to this exceptional caprice of his, but to Tsevieli guess while listening and recording his speech it was quite clear to him that the expanses must have been some several hundred thousand dollars, which were covered no doubt by the museum's rich sponsors. While listening to the curator speech that sounded clear and loud through the loudspeakers dispersed on the hall's walls all around, Tsevieli had to make efforts not to burst out laughing, although the compromises he had to do all along the five years, in which he roamed three nights at least every week reviewing art galleries with dubious works hardly entitled to be termed as art creations. While the ambitious museum art curator was telling the audience his impressions and decisions, Tsevieli watched the crowd with interest, looking for a suitable prey. But most of the visitors were middle aged couples and some elderly people; there were just a few young girls, kids in fact that did not interest him.  Thus when the museum's curator ended up his speech and handed the microphone to the museum manager's deputy, Tsevieli decided that he had enough of it. He switched off his miniature tape recorder and put it back in his jacket pocket, and decided to leave. As was about to make his move a head turned backward two rows before him and he met with the eyes of Adam Carmeli, the old painter that whenever Tsevieli visited one of his many exhibitions he used to phone Amnon to complain why Tsevieli Amnon's apprentice (that's how Adam defined him), was sent to review his exhibition. He wanted that Amnon himself if not the paper's head editor in person would come to visit his exhibitions. Tsevieli nodded his head with a mute sign of greeting and turned around and left the Contemporary Art Hall. When he reached the huge museum almost empty lobby he heard footsteps behind his back, and a quickened typical sound of someone running and a hand touched his shoulder. It was Adam that followed him.

'Won't you have a cup of coffee with me at the museum's cafeteria?' He asked Tsevieli rather politely to the Tsevieli's surprise.

'Oh I would've joined you willingly but I've still some work to do tonight.' Tsevieli informed the painter how busy he is.

'Oh come on Asaf can't you spare me a few moments?'

'If it's that urgent we can talk about it on my way to my car.' Tsevieli answered him coldly he did not forget yet the insults he suffered from that painter, and it was the right time to teach him a lesson and repay him for all the painter's past complaints against him.

Carmeli stopped astounded and hurt, but he changed his mind instantly, and rushed again after Tsevieli.

'Do me a favor Asaf,' he turned to  sevieli as he reached him again, 'Don't send that certain female to review my next exhibition do come yourself. Am I asking too much of you, don't you think that a man of your caliber should review my paintings and not some ignorant female?'

'She isn't ignorant Adam she's a graduate of Betzalel Art College, and she's my right hand but I'll think it over.' Tsevieli told him from the opposite side of his car, while opening his car's door. 'Bye now,' he added and sat behind the car's steering wheel.

As soon as he switched on the car's engine and set off, he burst out laughing hilariously all the way home.

© Haim Kadman June 2014 " all rights reserved.