It was that first night I noticed Hughey's work. We were hurried, late, I needed to meet someone. It was the worst way to walk into a gallery. Kim got ahead of me. I tried to scan the work, meet the only artist left, ask questions, apologize for walking in at closing and desperately trying to get home.
I made it down the first wall with anxiety. Here was Sharon's work, I knew I'd be back to it, to her, to the study of what she does. Next was a general store, followed by a barn, a quick glance at the artist. Oh, it was David, Sharon's husband. Wow, I thought, a historical artist. Someone who wants to show us the past. I thought of my Dad's stories. I would definitely be back.
I scanned paintings, names. Hurried. The center was Wyatt's Crossing, sold. Good for her, I tried to imagine where the collector would put him. If ever I had a huge entryway where people were first introduced into my home, massive with high tin ceilings and a shiny dark stained wood floor, I would put him there, under lighting designed by Teresa White.
It was the back right corner of the room where I stopped. A photograph stopped me. Who is Hughey Burchfield? I asked. It was a photograph, one of a natural texture you won't see here or at the website. It caught my eye, forced me to ask and find out he was local, a retired banker who sells photography internationally. The photograph seemed cheap, a hundred dollars. It was framed, signed. Keep walking, I thought, you must sell photography before you buy photography. I look at Kim, far ahead of me now, and kinda shout, Kim, did you see this Hughey Burchfield guy?
Yeah. Yeah, I saw that, she said.
Yesterday in the line at the grocery store I saw girl I knew and said, Hi.
Hey, she said. We've been needing to get in touch with you about getting some photographs made. We love what you did before. How much would you charge?
Ummm. Hm. Well. I've been thinking about that. I don't really know. I mean, it's you. Geez.
How 'bout? She named a price.
In my book nothing is mentioned about allowing the customer to name their price, to tell you what your work is worth. Imagine that except it is her and him and they are Slater's friends and it's work and someone wants my photography and why would I turn down grocery money.
Sounds fair, I say.
This is when, again, I think I need to get the World's Master Monopoly Player to handle my business affairs.
|World's Master Monopoly Player|
Grateful for that kid's face. And yes, his mind as well.