|
Twenty years ago, early one morning, I was paging
through an art glossy, perusing the plush announcements
of painterly showings at galleries whose product (per
item) was initially priced more highly than my annual
room rental rate tenfold. What business did I have
lurking in this magazine?
I was at work at an architectural bookstore. My task
concerned procuring postcards to mat, frame and hang
on the wall as decoration--tenable aesthetics for
the cost-conscious. I was adept enough to turn a profit
on the cheap: spending pennies, making an effort,
earning dollars.
If a customer did not want a preframed, s/he
could buy the card and (once home) wedge the image
between the frame and mirror located in the bathroom.
More simply, adhere the postcard to the refrigerator
with a magnet. For other surfaces tack, pin, tape,
clip, putty...
Here's our selection. What's your preference?
Here are some options. Be creative--accessorize.
The hope was to merchandize the method of chic-collaging.
The postcards I had previously obtained were from
stationary vendors' archive catalogs. My goal was
to raise the level chicness with a more present-day
presence.
My face went flush when I saw a splendid picture
of two sistahs captured in perpetuity, toddler twins
sitting stoically in portraiture, illustrating
Afro-Euro Americana--a vision and tale of generational
affinity, for me, a must have affirmation.
The twins, Utopia
and Dystopia,
are dressed in lace and frill, propped up like dolls
sitting in Shaker-esque chairs (one slightly taller
than the other, perhaps an indication of birthright).
Which, Utopia or Dystopia, is the evil--which angelic?
There is sibling rivalry as envinced by hairdo: frizzies
with a sophisticatedly placed barrette or weedy braids
intricately twisted; style bohemian or dreadlocked.
I phoned the gallery owner and requested some postcards.
“They're invitations,” he spittered.
“All the better. May I have ten?” I explained
my intentions.
“You can have one,” he spattered. “And
let me know how you do!”
Deal done, but I never sold. Instead I vaulted the
twins (with mat and frame). Legacy locked away--all
mine. However, now I am bereft, saddened by the fact
that I cannot look at them. Besides, by now the twins
have grown--and perhaps, made a switch. Dystopia?
Utopia? Could I tell them apart? I just have this
chronicle in tableau, in my mind's eye, and now digitally
in babble.
|
