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December 05, 2014

Mission Critical

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It’s the critical time of year.

You’re sitting in your office chair, not wondering about that TPS report you haven’t finished, but worrying about what you’re getting your significant other for the holidays. Oh sure, you could order another ironic coffee mug, or some quirky socks, maybe that thing you saw together at the mall that one time after that event you went to.

Or … you could get them a piece of original art. Think of all the positives: 1) whatever you choose, it is the only one there is. 2) Original art has spectacular staying power. 3) It’s waaaaay more thoughtful than a gift card. 4) You’re buying something beautiful that enriches your life while at the same time enabling an Artist to continue to produce creative, exciting work. 5) It will be a gift long remembered. 6) The person receiving the original piece of art will think you are the coolest person on the face of the planet in the history of ever.

Something to consider. Or not. I’m not telling you what to do. You’re a grown person. Probably.

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Eclectricity in the Air

We are making a deliberate excursion into new genres of art. In some ways, there are no new genres of art, just different interpretations of the same thoughts and ideas humans have had since we began having thoughts and ideas. But in terms of the gallery, we are … branching out.

We’ve been leaning this way for some time. The art market in Tulsa has taken a contemporary turn the last few years, and we try to accommodate that. As always, our goal is to have something for anyone who walks through our front door. Sometimes, that person is looking for something traditional, like a wildlife painting, a bronze or a landscape. Sometimes, that person wants a hyper-realistic painting. Sometimes, that person is looking for an abstract with a particular shade of blue in it.

We try to have it all.

It’s not an easy task. We’re not going to add a new abstract artist just to fill a void. They have to be great at what they do. They have to meet the standard set by our other artists, and we have brilliant artists, none of whom we're shuttling to the side to make room for the new. You can still expect to see all the same artists and kinds of art we've always had. But ... we're shaking things up a bit, too.

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But it begins.

What do I mean when I say new genres of art? We’re not just looking for contemporary work, but art with an edge to it. More things that make you stop and really take in what you’re seeing. Sometimes, that’s style, like with Lindsey Kustusch. Sometimes, that’s subject matter, like with Michael John Nolan. Sometimes, it’s all of it, like with Pamela Wilson.

After all, sometimes art needs to get in your face a bit. Yes, it could just hang there on the wall, complementing the drapes and couch. Or it could move you when you look at it. It could inspire conversations with visitors to your home. It could make people feel and think. It should be powerful.

Original art can do so much if you let it.

So let it.

We’d like to introduce Alexandra Manukyan and her painting, The Countess. Her work is coming soon to the gallery. As always, it is better seen in person than on a computer screen. We’ll be happy to accommodate you in that regard.

10. Countess, 24'x20', oil on canvas, $4000

Thanks for stopping by this week. We appreciate you.

Oh! Before I go, you can now tour the gallery via Google. If you've never had the chance to visit us in person, here's some flavor for you

See you next week. 

November 28, 2014

What up, Turkeys

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What up, Turkeys.

We are fat(ter) and happy-ish, and back from a day of over-indulgence ready to deal some art. I’ll keep it concise because I know you’re consumed with all things Black and Fridayish.

The gallery is loaded with new art from a bevy of artists, new and old. If you visited Facebook this morning, I introduced Michael John Nolan. I don’t have his artist’s page up just yet, but it’ll be there soon. He paints … alternative subjects, but it’s our kind of thing, and we think you’ll like it. As usual, come in, check it out.

But that’s not all …

Josh George sent us two new paintings that are pretty spectacular, including this one, Notice the Vertical Development.

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James Johnson has, once again, begun experimenting with a new style of painting. We have several of them, but here’s one for you (Falling Flowers) without having to click.

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One of my favorite new things in the gallery is from James “Bud” Smith. He calls it Bird Clan Mask.

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Finally, you’re probably aware the yule gift-giving holiday is imminent, and we’d just like to remind you we carry a selection of jewelry, including pieces from Wayne Muskett, Steve Yellowhorse and Jody Lyle. I’ll leave a couple pics here for you, but you should really visit our two jewelry cases.

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In a New Moulding

Most of you are aware we don’t just deal in art. We also carry the largest selection of mouldings west of the Mississippi. A good frame can take a great painting or photograph to the next level. Mouldings allow you to add the “wow!” factor to your art and memories. What could you do with a chalkboard frame? Add instant personalized awesomeness, that’s what.

We have new mouldings from Roma, Larson-Juhl and others.

Check out some of the new lines (there are a lot more than just these, btw):

  Lavo-finishes

Eleganza-finishes

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And that’s it, kids. Short and sweet. Enjoy your shopping.

November 20, 2014

Everyone, Meet Lindsey

Hey, there. Everyone doing well?

Lindsey Kustusch profile picI'll keep the intro short. This week we bring you a Q&A with Lindsey Kustusch. You can read her bio on her artist’s page. Lindsey's work has attracted a lot of attention in the three short weeks it's been here, and one of the first three pieces has already found a home. More are on the way.

Lindsey's been in Germany shooting photo reference for future pieces, and we expect some of that work will be possibly heading our way in the future.

Lindsey's work is a blend of the abstract and real, of soft textures and sharp lines, bold colors and subtle shades. We like it a lot, and we're proud to have her in the Gallery. 

Anyway, on with it. The questions and answers:

Why did you become a painter?

Ultimately, creating anything with my hands is what brings me the most joy in life. I like the physicality and spontaneity of applying what’s in your head to a raw physical form. I hoped I’d somehow find a career in art, but it wasn’t until long after art school and after a short career in animal welfare, did I realize painting was my ticket in. It started as a hobby and then once I realized I can actually make a living doing what I love, I found a whole new passion for the medium itself. There are endless possibilities with paint and very different directions you can take it. Unveiling those possibilities on my day-to-day continuously convinces me I’m where I’m supposed to be.

Do you have a philosophy that drives your work? 107097

These could be more “rules of the road” than philosophies I’d say, but … paint what inspires you and not what you think you’re supposed to, it’ll always show in your work. Seek inspiration through your peers, but always find your own voice. Remind yourself that most of the artists you idolize are sometimes more than twice your age, so be patient and stay focused. Remember to leave the house at least once a day. And don’t forget, you’re living the dream, so stop complaining.

You seem to switch from animals to landscapes to figures and back with no problem, and you do all equally well. Why and how?

I found early on that switching up the subject matter every other painting or so helped to keep me inspired, free-thinking and interested. Sticking to one subject for too long prevented me from taking risks necessary to grow as an artist.

Urban landscapes were the first genre of oil painting to completely blow me away and had me question everything I knew about oil as a medium, so without a doubt became the first of my challenges. I realized that once you break it down into simple geometric shapes and forms, there’s an endless freedom for personal expression in the urban environment. Hard, angular edges, sharp peaks against soft clouds, tight blocks of color stacked on top of one another; abstracting and breaking down the world as we see it into individual knife marks and brush strokes, satisfies a specific piece of the puzzle that no other subject can. Just the same as a figure or animal, but with an entirely different set of problems to solve.

By jumping back and forth, I’m able to stay fresh and forward thinking as to the overall direction I want to take my art. It helps to keep me focused and experimental. The animals allow me to use tools I would normally never use with a cityscape and the freedom to rest my eyes and get loose with the mark making. The figures depend upon a skill set required to accurately describe the human form, which is a challenge all in itself. Each of the subjects I paint serve a purpose in the creative process, and with each subject I hold a personal connection. In the end, my hope is that this will create an inspired, lifetime body of work.

What inspires you most?

That's a tough one. And I'm sure once I answer it, I'll think of something else. But overall, if I had to pinpoint what inspires me the most, it would be living in a city surrounded by creative, forward thinking people. I'm highly influenced by my surroundings, as we all are, so to be in the thick of it, and in a city that lends itself to the creative types is a constant motivator and daily inspiration.

How much do you consider the abstract elements of your work, or is that just a byproduct of your technique?

A little bit of both. I’m constantly fighting the tidiness of the painting, and where, when and what to abstract. Understanding something to the level where you can “playfully” break it down into simple shapes and colors and not create a complete mess, in my opinion, is a truly advanced skill and one that I’m continuously striving for. But I’ve come to realize with my own work, each painting is better left to reveal itself as it moves along, and there’s only so much you can push.

What kind of color palette do you prefer to work in? (Seems like you’re drawn to darker things … )

I guess I am drawn to a darker palette. There’s a richness in the darker pigments that strike a chord with me and seem to always draw my eye before a higher keyed painting. Also, I’ve always had a fear of making paint look “chalky,” and it’s very easy to do with a lighter palette. I like high contrast but lately I’m finding myself drawn more and more to those lighter, dustier, barely there colors, so who knows.

107098Why do you prefer to use palette knives and improvised painting implements?

I think it started with the fear of creating a lifeless, boring piece of art. Delicately blending pigment and lightly applying it to a canvas just wasn’t very much fun and I wasn’t very good at it, so long before I ever knew fine art would turn into a career I decided to start experimenting with the palette knife.

There was an artist in a gallery down the street from me at the time that treated his canvas like a cake. It was so satisfying to see thick, frosting like texture, bold, rich colors swirled together to form vibrant landscapes. He changed the way I looked at oil paint forever.

From there it’s just been a constant cycle of new inspiration, and new ways to experiment with achieving the end goal. When considering movement in an animal or the fog on a rainy day, soft and hard edges are crucial. Using tools that scrape the pigment across the canvas versus a brush have very different effects. Finding these effects with a constant rotation of tools is half the reason I love painting, and if the artist is inspired, so is the art she/he creates.

 What piece of art that you’ve seen recently blew your mind and why?

This past year I was able to see the Joaquin Sorolla exhibit that came through Dallas. Wow, that is the show to see. To this day I have not seen such skilled use of color up close as I have with him. It made me realize again how it important it is to try and see as much art as you can in person, because even the most precise photographs won’t do it justice.

Lindsey, who probably considers herself a Californian, spent a year living in Deep Ellum, Dallas, Texas. Call it her sabbatical.

What did you think of Dallas?

The hottest place I’d ever lived. But … besides that, overall it was inspiring. I’d say my favorite part of Dallas was Deep Ellum itself. The realness of the people who live and work there, the old warehouses and saloons nestled along the torn up gritty streets, and fact that almost every night of the week there were cafes, bars and venues playing live music was pretty incredible.

What’s the best part of being back in California?

I’d say being able to have the windows open year round. I live in Oakland, and since I’ve been back it’s varied from a pleasant 80 degrees down to maybe a warm 68 without a cloud in the sky. It’s absurd. So other than the weather being beautiful, San Francisco is one of the most inspiring cities I’ve ever lived in, so being a short 20 minute train ride away just feels right.

***

Weekly Updates

Not so long ago, we had one of Google’s official photographers come through and shoot the gallery. You can now, through the magic of the Internet, “walk” through the gallery. Check it out

And with that, we'll see you next week. Thanks for stopping by.

Oh, wait. Last thing. Jack says if you come in next Wednesday, Nov. 26, in your best pilgrim costume, he'll give you a 10 percent discount (excluding bronzes; no discounts on bronzes!). So ... think about it.

November 13, 2014

Off-Color

I wanted to open up with one of my dad’s classic off-color remarks. Instead, we’ll do it Mad-Libs style.

“We’ve been busier than a _________ (noun) in a ___________ (more colorful noun) contest.”

Share yours in the comments section below!

Anyway, we’ve been busy. I don’t know if you know this, but we had a big show last week. K. Henderson, Robert Caldwell and Paul Rhymer were in the house, and they brought the bad-ass art. Lots of it. And then while they were here, they made more.

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Robert, K and Paul wondering what Paul is doing with that plaster mould.

And then, of course, there are at least four more pages in the Receiving Log.

You can always hop up to the top of the page, hover over “Artists,” and click the link for “New Works.” That is the easiest way to keep up with the new arrivals. But it does like my commentary, if that makes a difference to you.

It’s fun, after all, to talk about our new art and to make the proper introductions, when applicable.

Not sure if I got around to mentioning Nicholas Bernard, for instance. I don’t remember how we found Nicholas, but he is a colorful addition to the gallery in terms of work and personality. I mean, this is what he sent us for his artist bio pic: 

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He’s been a potter for more than 30 years, and is still working toward being a master of his craft.  We might argue that he already is, but whatever keeps him motivated to evolve as an artist is fine with us. Welcome to the gallery, Nicholas.

In addition to Nicholas, a dozen of our artists have sent us new work in the last 30 days, a lot of it in the last two weeks. We received three pieces from Camille Engel, a couple from Josh George. There are three new bowls from Tim Yardic, and Claudia Patrick updated her entire portfolio for 2014. There’re two from Allison Cantrell and a new one from Todd Ford. Two from Terry Isaac. James Johnson unleashed his new abstract series last week, and Erika Pochybova sent us her first three-dimensional piece. Two new Scot Storm’s are hanging in the gallery, and there’s a cool wolf from Julie Bender you need to see.

All that and we’re not even talking about the pieces from the show.

Holiday Season

Ladies and gentlemen, I’m obligated by the Accords of Retail Businesses to point out that the holiday season is upon us. This year, we’re making a pledge. Though you may see bows and holly out in front of our shop, you’ll not see it on the inside. Nor will you hear any of yesteryear’s crooners serenading you with the sounds of the season.

At Lovetts, we’ll be pretending it’s just any old normal time of the year.

That said, we have a lot of really great pieces of original art that will serve nicely as gifts. We have men’s and women’s jewelry from the likes of Steve Yellowhorse, John Knotts  and Jody Lyle

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Award Season

Just in case you guys ever doubt the artistic mastery hanging on the walls here at Lovetts, we sometimes like to remind you that it’s not just Jack and me that think they’re awesome. For instance, Camille Engel has been racking up the international awards this year.

 "2014 Best Wildlife" - International Guild of Realism: 

Camille Engel, wins "Best Wildlife" award in the 9th Annual International Guild of Realism Exhibition for her 24” x 36” oil painting on linen of a swimming pigeon guillemot, Floating Between Two Worlds. This year's exhibition is hosted by Robert Lange Studios in Charleston, SC (voted Best Art Gallery in Charleston from 2010 to 2013.) 

Seventy International Artists and 75 paintings were chosen for this exhibition from over 350 juried member entries. Around 40 of the artists with their guests were in attendance including artists from Sweden, Iceland, Canada and Norway. The Exhibition hangs from November 7 through November 28, 2014.

2014-2015 ART AND THE ANIMAL MUSEUM TOUR

 “I am thrilled my English Bulldog, Who's a Good Girl?, was accepted into the 54th Annual Exhibition of the Society of Animal Artists, and chosen for the 2014-2015 "Fiftieth Annual Art and the Animal" National Museum Tour,” says Camille.

The Society of Animal Artists and its annual touring exhibition, Art and the Animal, represent the very best animal art being produced in the world today. The SoAA is regarded world-wide as the most prestigious artist membership organization dedicated to the theme of animals in art.

Wrap-up

Next week, we’ll have an interview with Lindsey Kustusch, another artist new to the Lovetts family. I would’ve had the interview for you this week, but Lindsey’s been in Germany shooting reference for her next round of paintings. I’m willing to cut her some slack.

Here's a piece of hers to hold you over.

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See you next week!

October 30, 2014

Employee of the Month

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 (This is a sequel of sorts to last year's Lovetts Halloween Special. If you'd like to read that one first, go ahead and click the link. Employee of the Month will be here when you get back.)

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I had that moment of wondering what the sound was, where the hell was I, what time is it, before my brain caught up. Even still, I sat up in the middle of the bed waiting for some kind of prompt.

The phone vibrated against the floor. It seemed to shake the bed. I snaked my arm between the bedside table, groping around, thinking spiders.

I found it. Jack. It was also 3:15 in the morning. I thumbed it on.

“What’s up?”

“The alarm went off at the gallery. Can you go over there?”

“Sure?”

“The Farm’s security guys have already checked out the space, and there’s no one there anymore.”

The anymore had a weight to it. Moreso than if it were said by someone who didn’t work at a place with our particular inventory.

It had been a year since the incident with Juan Medina's Blind Angel. The gallery where I work is … special. I won't call it haunted, but when paintings hang there, something happens to them. They have access to something else. Or maybe somewhere else. Last Halloween, I watched a gentleman (okay, he was kind of an ass) climb into a painting and never return. And there were screams. Lots of screams. I still had nightmares about it.

There had been many late night gallery visitors since that night, and I didn't really feel sorry for any of them. And they usually made appointments, which was more convenient.

I realized Jack was still talking. “They said front door was shattered, and they boarded it up already, but they can’t tell if anything was stolen. Just go in and look around. Check the video recorder, too. Might need to delete something.”

“Okay. I’ll call you after.”

I sat there a moment, contemplating going back to sleep. The bed was warm and the windows weren’t broken.

I sighed, stood up, and started looking around in the dark for pants.

***

Twenty minutes later I pulled into the parking lot.

A police officer stood talking to the shopping center security guy by a black-and-white cruiser, lights spinning blue and red shadows across the parking lot. The guy leaned against his truck, arms flailing in storytelling mode. I pulled in next to them, nodded through the window and got out. It was warmer than it should've been in late October, but leaves still rustled in a light breeze. At least it smelled like Fall.

“Went ahead and boarded up the door for you,” security guy said, “but I didn’t go inside. I let Officer Jansen in.”

“Thank you,” I said, and tried to look grateful. I think I smiled, no teeth, and offered my hand to Jansen. He shook it. Solid grip that matched his posture. I figured him former military.

“You the owner?”

“No. He called me.”

“Right ...” he started, then paused. I thought he suppressed a shudder. “I did not see anyone.”

I nodded and looked past him toward the gallery. The interior lights had turned off. The orange LEDs lining the front windows made the broken pieces of glass glow like cooling embers on the gallery floor and sidewalk.

“What did they break the glass with?”

“I didn’t find anything inside. Might’ve been smashed from the outside with a bat or a rock or something. Kids, maybe.”

“Did anything look torn up?”

“Not that I could see.”

“Anything unusual?”

He realized about then I was questioning him instead of the other way around. His mouth tightened in a grimace, lips vanishing. “No.”

I nodded. “Do you need anything from me?”

Ah, yes. Paperwork. I filled in the blanks, answered the questions, thanked them both for their time, then assured them I could handle the rest.

***

I pulled the car around and used the back door. The light switches were up front, so I stood in the doorway, letting my eyes adjust to the dark.

106349I stepped into the gallery and paused. I smelled cigar smoke, and heard faint notes of blues seeping out of Jeff Ham’s multi-colored Mingus portrait to my left. I looked around the rectangular part of the room, noting the odd shadows cast by the moveable walls in the gallery's center. I walked further in. Orange and white light from the front windows spilled back across the floor and walls.

I heard a distinct plink of a piano key to my right and looked up at Pamela Wilson’s The Lyric of Chimerical Solace. The piano player shifted her hips, hooped skirt rustling, and looked back at me. She played another note. I turned and headed the other way, walking the perimeter of the room.

I passed Scott French’s Nighttime Stories, the one with the nude girl with a schooner on her head riding a polar bear through someone's bedroom. Did the polar bear have red on its muzzle? The girl on its back appeared to be sleeping, the small ship tucked under her arm instead of atop her head.

Dust and wind blew out of David Shingler’s palette knifed Chico Basin landscape, and I could smell the salty air from the trio of Brett Lethbridge paintings, their satin fabrics popping and snapping in the gusts. 105945

Another note from the piano echoed across the space, bouncing off the walls, and I looked back at the player. She’d stood and turned, elbows on the keys. She teased her hand across several of them and played another, eyes meeting mine. I looked away.

I kept moving, stopping in front of the door and looking at the spilled glass as the motion detector finally found me and light filled the room. The green haired child clown in Wilson’s Like Ghosts of Fish splashed water at me, and when I turned to look, winked before peering through its binoculars.

I took a deep breath. “You can come out now. The police are gone.”

I heard cardboard boxes tumble in the back of the storeroom where I had been before, and a few moments later, a tall, thin man in dirty black jeans and a stained white t-shirt, greasy hair parted to one side, stumbled out. He looked like a junkie of some sort, and I knew him, though he’d been cleaner when last we met.

“Walter. What are you doing?”

He walked toward the Piano Player, never making eye contact with me. She was where I’d last seen her, leaning against the piano, the hoops of the skirt bulging out, arms crossed under her breasts, but she was looking at me, not Walter. She arched an eyebrow. I shrugged.

“I needed to see her again.”

“I thought you had decided against that.”

“I …”

I waited.

“I changed my mind.”

I sighed, and I overdid it, so he would hear.

“Walter, you don’t get to change your mind. It’s a one-time affair.”

He turned, raced across the gallery and slammed into me, knocking me back into the wall, and held me there. I checked to make sure I hadn’t smashed into any of the paintings, then wedged my arm over and under his, pressing his chest back with my forearm.

“I changed my mind,” he hissed, face inches from mine. Up until that moment, I’d planned on talking him out of it, planned on helping the guy out. I never liked giving them over to the paintings. It made me … uncomfortable. But I’d never had a client attack me.

“Get your hands off me, Walter.” I stared him down, noting his bloodshot eyes and how his chest was heaving. All that was missing was froth coming out of his mouth. I braced my heels against the wall, and shifted my weight slightly in case he didn’t let go.

106970He released my shirt, but didn’t move. “I’m seeing her,” he said, then turned and walked toward the piano player. She looked over his shoulder at me, and then offered Walter her hand. It was uncanny. She didn’t become more real, but maintained the tone and texture of the painting, and yet there was weight and substance to her limbs. The light on her did not look right.

Walter took her hand, placed one foot on the bottom frame of the painting, and stepped up. He became oil and tone and texture. His feet pressed down on the carpet, his legs displaced the hoops of her dress. She led him from the room, out of my sight.

Nice knowing you, Walter.

***

The next half hour I kept my head down and cleaned up the mess. When I was out of excuses not to, I walked back to the piano player.

“Is he coming back?”

She smiled again. “The paperwork has been filled out. It is in the Box.”

“And the fee?”

“Taken care of.”

Right. “Thanks?”

“Would you like to visit one of the girls?”

“I would not.”

I turned and walked away, heading up the creaky wooden ramp to the front counter. Another of Wilson’s pieces, Pink Entropy, sat on the bar. The woman sat an antique black phone back in its cradle on her lap as I approached. She looked as tired as I felt. I wondered who she’d called, then laughed. The dog next to her huffed a muffled bark at me, then licked its chops.

I opened the Box, and took out the fresh set of parchment on top. The bloody signature glistened in the yellow gallery light. The red letters, which looked as though they’d been written by a frightened third-grader, read "Walter Haversham."

I dug out the lighter we used for incense and heated up the black wax stick. I dripped a puddle on the document next to Walter’s signature, then used our wrought iron LG stamp in the wax. I blew to cool it, started to put it back in the Box.

The ramp creaked and a man strode up it. The hair stood up on the back of my neck. He was not tall, nor was he short. He was textured. His body was hung with a vintage brown suit, complete with silver watch chain hanging from pocket on a red satin vest. His shoes gleamed in the dull light, as did the thick silver rings on his fingers. A black bowler had sat crooked on his head, and tufts of dirty blond hair stuck out around his ears and neck. His skin was pale, teeth bright. He smiled at me. His eyes were an almost iridescent blue.

“I’ll take that,” he said, and held out his hand.

I looked down at the document, then at the box, and felt my face heat up. I may have gulped, but I did not shiver.

I held out the paperwork. He pinched it with thumb and forefinger on his left hand, made a production of reading the pages, then folded and creased the parchment with a practiced motion. They vanished inside his jacket.

He offered me his right hand. “I don’t believe we’ve met.”

I shook it. “I don’t believe I want to.”

He didn’t let go. The skin was smooth as an infants, but cold, the shake firm, like he could crush my bones. He said, “Nonsense. You’re my employee of the month.”

“What?”

“Employee of the month.” He smiled, all teeth. “You know, that award handed out for the month's best performer? That's you. Employee of the Month."

My brain started doing math. "But we've only had … six, maybe seven this month? Aren't there warlords in Africa doing better than that?"

"It's not always about quantity, is it?"

I shut my mouth.

He reached inside his jacket with his left hand and pulled out a small silver pin, some sort of sun with a broadsword pointing down, bisecting it through the middle. He turned my right hand, which he had not yet relinquished, palm up and placed the pin in the middle of it. It was almost uncomfortably cold against my skin. He closed my fingers around it, then let go. It tingled with pain, as though I'd just hit my funny bone.

"I'm not really … comfortable with this work."

He arched an eyebrow at me, tilted his head. "Do you really believe that? Do you not think that each one of our guests gets exactly what is coming to them? Did our boy Walter not deserve his second visit?"

"That's not for me to say. I don't know about his life, what brought him here."

"Ah yes, but I do."

I stood there, eyes locked with his, afraid or unable to look away. I had nothing to say. After an uncomfortable amount of time, he nodded.

"Good! I'm glad we've come to an understanding." He fished the pocket watch out of his vest and checked the time. "I have to be off. Keep up the good work, and remember, I've got my eye on you. Let me know if you'd ever like to advance your career."

He turned and walked down the ramp, whistling to himself. I never heard any of the gallery's doors opened, but I knew I was alone in the building. I looked to examine the pin and realized it was on my shirt, though I didn't remember putting it there.

I unpinned it and left it on the counter, then locked up and went home.

______

Thanks for reading.

Onto this week's business...

The Wild Bunch is next Saturday, Nov. 8, 2014, from 10am-5pm. We would love it if you would attend. 

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Also, TODAY (Today being Thursday, Oct. 30, 2014), Brett Lethbridge will be here from 4-6pm. Come visit!

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