“Chance Encounters
 of the
Close Kind”

© 2010 by Anel Viz. All rights reserved.

 

The author retains all rights. No reproductions are allowed without the author's consent. Comments are appreciated at...

 

 14.  The Portrait

No one had expected it would go for anywhere near six figures, but it sold for one hundred forty-five thousand.

How would the Board react?  Archie had been to other Sotheby’s auctions to observe and to learn, but this was the first time they’d entrusted him with the bidding.  As luck would have it, his more experienced associate had come down with migraine, and he had to go it alone.  Well, like it or not, now the museum owned Portrait Aidan Blythe.  They were stuck with it; they could never resell it for half of what he’d paid.

There was nothing special about the painting: a male nude, an adolescent, oil, dated 1928 by an artist not much in demand, his last realistic painting before going on to do a few dozen retro-cubist canvases and die young.  A competent portrait.  No masterpiece by any standards, but well executed – decent composition and an interesting palette.

It showed young Aidan seated on a throw rug, his right leg tucked under him, his left knee chin high, foot flat on the floor.  He held his head turned slightly to the right and supported himself leaning back on his hands, palms down, fingers splayed wide.  His left foot and right hand, fully visible from that angle, seemed extraordinarily large.  Archie imagined the artist must have exaggerated their size, though why he couldn’t fathom.  The artist must have done a good job putting his subject at ease.  He appeared quite relaxed posing nude for one so young.

Only two people had bid on it, himself and an older man – very old, in fact – whom he didn’t recognize as anyone’s agent or the owner of an extensive collection.  But for him, he’d have acquired the piece for twenty thousand, tops.  He’d been careless, expecting the man to drop out bidding at any moment.  He didn’t, and the price soared beyond any reasonable figure, stunning everyone present.  He ought to have let him have it.

The portrait was on the wish list of acquisitions the Director had given him, but he hadn’t set a limit on how much to spend on it, not even a ballpark figure.  “No need to worry about that one,” he’d said.  “It won’t go for much.”  What worried Archie was that he might not have the money to bid on the more expensive works they’d set their hearts on.  They’d given him a generous budget to work with, but for some of those paintings the bidding could be astronomical.  What a way to start the day!

Archie glanced at the program and saw that nothing on his list would come on the block for some time.  The more in-demand pieces were generally scheduled for later in the day.  He went to the lobby for coffee.

The other bidder approached him as he stood by the urns.

“Excuse me, Mr... uh...”

“Ryan.  Archie Ryan.”

“I wanted to ask, Mr. Ryan, if you’re authorized to reveal for whom you purchased the portrait?”

He told him; it was no secret.  The price was so unexpected that the Times would probably phone the museum for a statement before he had a chance to report back.

“May I ask why you want to know?”

“I was hoping they’d let me have it on loan.  Till I died.  That won’t be long.  I may not look it, but I’m pushing a hundred.”

Archie believed it.  “You know, you’ve landed me in a bit of a pickle,” he said.  “I admit it was my fault, letting you push me beyond what I think the museum was willing to pay.”

“If you’d let me have it, it would have been yours for a lot less.  I couldn’t have bought it anyway.  I don’t have anything like that much money.”

“Then why did you keep bidding?”

“For the same reason you did, I suppose.  I got carried away.  And yes, I enjoyed seeing the price go up and up and up.  Out of vanity.”

Archie looked puzzled.  “I’m Aidan Blythe,” the man explained.

By reflex, Archie looked at the man’s hands, then down at his shoes.  They were enormous.

“I hadn’t seen portrait since it was finished,” Blythe continued, “just reproductions in art books.  Not many have it.  He sold it immediately, to a museum in a city I never got around to visiting.  I’ve kept tabs on it, though, and when I saw it would be up for auction right here where I live, of course I went to see it.  I had no intention of buying.  I don’t know what came over me.”

The wheels had started turning in Archie’s brain.  The museum was at most three hundred miles away.  Blythe could be there when they hung the portrait, maybe stay a week.  Turn the negative publicity into a positive investment.  He’d put him up himself if money was a problem.  And a print signed by the subject in the margin would make a popular item in the museum shop.  But would such a distinguished old gentleman want the world to see a nude of him as a boy and know it was him?  Should he ask point blank or indirectly?

“Lend it to you?  That would be up to the museum.  May I ask how you came to pose for it?  It’s his only nude, I believe.”

“He was a friend of the family.  Mother commissioned him to do my portrait.  The nude was my idea.  You see, I was in love with him, my first love.  So the portrait means more to me than you’d think.”

Involuntarily, Archie raised an inquiring eyebrow.

“I don’t think he suspected.  He was straight as an arrow.  Anyway, he did a portrait for Mother and this as well, which he sold right away so she wouldn’t know about it.”

No, he wouldn’t object.  Go for it.

“I’d love to!  Mother would have thrown a fit, but she’s long gone.”

“Great.  I’ll run it by the museum.”

 

Posted: 03/05/10