A Gallant Night

Posted: August 6, 2009 in Uncategorized

A Gallant Night

Standing in the gallery Lucinda sipped her wine gazing at the veduta. The landscape was timely done in earthy oils. The artist expressed great elocution in his work. Moving on through the gallery she found another painting. This one seemed so real, as if the man standing at the parapet could come tumbling out of the work.

Applause erupted as the artist raised his glass in a toast to Phillip Glazer. Pronounced fee-leep glass-a-er. The shmuck probably wasn’t even French. Lucinda had a premonition that all the artist’s efforts to impress the great critic were all a fallacy.

In her mind’s eye she could picture the review in which uppity Philip would eviscerate the young artisan. At the very least sever an artery.

With a sigh she moved on into the exhibits laughing quietly to herself as she passes a couple. The gentleman was trying to impress his lady friend, badly. He stood back from the painting with a distant expression. Then proclaimed that the artist was ocular. Oh yes the young man had a vision alright. Of getting that pretty little girl between the sheets.

A huge landscape caught her eye. The view was from the bottom of a gorge. Near the end of the great trench was a cave, coming out of the gaping mouth was supposed to be a bear. Taking another sip from her flute she decided the artist should stick to landscapes only. The bear looked more like a hamster.

Next was a classic view of the medieval hero Robin Hood. The outlaw stood in disguise line up with the other archers. Arrow knocked ready to fly true and win the legendary contest. Grinning she wondered if she could step into the painting and blow in his ear as he let fly. Let’s see him make that shot.

 An odd coupling by the same artist the next painting held a limo in the Nevada desert. Standing against the side of the car a man dressed forties gangster style. Might have been attractive but for the horrendous scar down the side of his face. Something caught her eye started her laughing at the artist’s morbid sense of humor. Lying just under the edge of the trunk was a man’s shoe.

 Moving on she found the scene of an interior of a house. A woman stood in the background hands on her hips. Cooking over an old wood burning stove was apparently her husband. The poor man was tall and thin obviously worked to death by the shrew.

 The next piece was a collage of calendars. It was quite impressive how he managed to encapsulate so much history into the piece. There was a calendar from the year JFK was assassinated the date circled in red. Little pictures of historical events speckling many of the dates.

 Lucinda actually liked the Florida landscape. The beach with its white sands seemingly stretching on forever. Palm trees shading a group of sunbathers as the waves licked at their feet. A dog with a Frisbee running along the shore gave her a smile.

 Hanging next was a peep inside a brothel. Ladies enticing men with their unmentionables and pretty smiles hoping to make a few dollars that night. Some were dancing, others drinking, a few locked in romantic endeavors but all laughing and gay. All but one. In the corner window seat a woman with long golden locks stared at the moon. Her sapphire eyes held a longing, perhaps of dreams lost. 

 Sighing Lucinda had lost patience with the crowd growing in number and noise. The wine no longer able to quench her thirst she poured it into the potted tree. Glancing around she slipped the flute with its gallery charm dangling from the stem into her purse. On her way out she over heard Fee-leep telling another patron the artist should have stuck to flipping burgers.

The valet brought her car and Lucinda tipped him before driving away. On the way home she listened to Mozart drifting through the speakers. Once inside her apartment the illusion was shattered. Toeing off her shoes she walked over to the wall over her dinning table. Pulling the flute from her purse Lucinda set the glass on a shelf turning the charm to dangle from the front.

 Stepping back she looked at her collection. There was a glass from almost every gallery in New York and LA. Since moving to California Lucinda had found the Beverly Hills posh galleries a lot of fun. It was her little escape from her mundane life as a post office clerk.

Once a month she would dress to the nines walking among the beautiful people. Experiencing the world in their eyes for a couple of hours, tasting fine wines, foods she would never be able to afford. Walking to her bedroom Lucinda took off her dress she’d saved for six months to buy it. There were three fine gowns in her closet just for her little trips.

 Slipping on the oversized tee shirt Lucinda thought about the gallery and all she had seen tonight. Her gallant night out, that’s what she called it. Resting her head on her pillow Lucinda made note to check the listings for next month so she could plan her next gallant night.

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