I tried to cheer myself up by going over to Zambaldi to visit the food truck in their parking lot today--Caribbean Taste. I'd hoped for some mango lime chicken but they were out so I had jerk chicken and fried plantains. It was yummy.
I knitted a few rows on my hat today, mostly so I'd have some progress to show you.
My new Pacific Sunset Maple tree has leaves on it. Pretty bright green leaves!
24 May--Barbara Malcolm, Tropical Obsession.
She was glad that they were
going out so that Jack would have someone else to absorb some of his
energy. Standing next to him was like being next to a static electricity generator. Mona felt like her hair was on end
when she stood beside him.
Tonight, Jack’s
enthusiasm for his new endeavor bled out his foot on the accelerator rocketing
them into town to the gallery showing.
Major George Clemment was outside the gallery door as they pulled
up. Jack yelped his glee at seeing
George. He parked haphazardly in the end
spot of the parking lot across the street, half in the driveway, and leaped out
to stride over to greet his new friend, leaving Mona to find her own way. By the time she got to the doorway George and
Jack had disappeared into the crowded gallery.
She made her way in,
excusing herself, and picking up a glass of halfway decent red wine from a
waiter. Not seeing anyone she knew she
picked up an exhibit catalog and began to look at the art. None of the art looked very professional to
her, in fact, it all looked like a bunch of fourth graders did it. Looking at the catalog sheet in her hand she
saw that it was all the work of one man called Niki Tromp who, according to his
probably self-written bio, was an “untutored artistic genius.” A snort of laughter escaped Mona and she
looked around to see if anyone had noticed.
No one had, she was safe. It
looked as though the artist had been dizzy when he painted the turtle.
Concentric rings of colors formed the shell like the brightly colored layers of
candy in a jawbreaker, the head and feet looked almost real, and the background was a cloudy tan that looked like muddy water swirling down a drain. She wasn't a
very knowledgeable art connoisseur, but Jack had dragged her to enough of these
gallery things that she knew the kind of noises to make so that she appeared to
have an opinion or care about art. She didn't. As far as she could tell Niki
Tromp, tonight's featured artist, should have kept his job as an accountant or
a phone installer or whatever he had been because she thought his artistic
career was dead in the water. She
finally found Susan in the crush, happy to see a familiar face.
Susan said, “Have you
seen enough art?” Susan hooked quotes in
the air around the word art.
Mona gave a sigh of
relief. “Oh good. I thought I was the only one who thought the
work was not very good.”
Susan grasped her elbow
and steered them right out the door.
“Not very good does not cover it,” she said. “Niki Tromp is a very nice man whose mother
and wife have somehow convinced him that he is Bonaire’s answer to
Gauguin. He is not. And if Linda Michaels had not owed him a
favor for fixing her refrigerator last fall, he would not be having a one-man
gallery showing at all. She is afraid
that this will tarnish the reputation of her gallery with the art buyers on the
island.” She shook her head. “I told her after tonight to sneak in a few
paintings by decent artists every day and by the time the month is out old
Niki’s daubs will be crowded right into the back room where they belong.”
“The poor man. I hope he does not hear anyone speaking of
his work like that. It would hurt his
feelings terribly.”
Susan snorted. “Niki does not have feelings; he is an
egocentric wanker who only hears what pleases him. Pay him no mind.”
Mona stifled a giggle. “I am not even sure what a wanker is, but it
does not sound good.”
“I will tell you what a
wanker is one day when I have had a lot of much better red wine, and you are
probably right about what you think it means.”
The women stood on the
walk outside the gallery and chatted in the soft Caribbean night air happy to
be out of the stifling crush of the gallery goers. Eventually Jack and George came out to join
them and the couples strolled a few blocks down the main street of Playa to
Chez Rendezvous which was famous for its shrimp bisque and chocolate mousse.
The CBS Sunday movie tonight was Titanic which is very long so I'm late getting to the blog. I'm glad they decided to resurrect the Sunday Night Movie. Next week is another Indiana Jones, the one with Sean Connery. Harrison Ford and Sean Connery in the same movie? Swoon.
--Barbara
1 comment:
I agree -- Harrison Ford and Sean Connery -- definitely swoon-worthy. Pretty shot of your new tree. Looks like a different angle than your usual spot by your front door. Maybe looking the other way up your street? Sorry you had a downer day. I hate those!! But nice you could get out and enjoy the kids' brewery patio. The pix on FB look so neat with the colorful Adirondack chairs.
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