When they came to me and asked if I would write an article for an Art magazine I thought they were nuts! After all, I am not an artist neither big "A" or little "a". I cannot draw and even though I am an engineer, if it weren't for a cad system I would even be a lost soul at work.
    I wouldn't have anything to contribute to an art publication, would I?
After about a week of persuading I began to think about it and realized that I did have some thoughts about art, that I guess about everyone has some thoughts about paintings and the such.
     At the risk of really irking everyone of you "artsy" people I must admit that I just do not understand you folks at all. I don't understand what you do and why on earth you do it. From what I understand, not many of you ever sell much of anything, you paint the most god-awful stuff I have ever seen, and then you get off into little groups and criticize each other. Darned if that makes any sense to me at all.
      What little I do know about painting comes from the fact that my wife used to do that about 8 years ago. She went on one of her usual forays and began buying paint and brushes and some foul smelling stuff. She hooked on to that guy on TV with the bushy hair and if I didn't see to it that she got home by 2 in the afternoon, to see the show, there was hell to pay.
     Well, she really surprised me, as she usually does, because within a few weeks she was painting some pretty good things! She did one painting of a barn and field near our house that was exceptionally good. Or at least I thought it was. About a week later I committed one of the worst mistakes of my life. I encouraged her to enter the painting in a show that the local art center was having..
     If only I knew then what I know now....but then, that's a story for another time. My wife has this thing about togetherness. If she is going to do something she must have what she calls "my support". Now this support cannot be in the form of "yea, babe, go to it". She means "wherever I goest, thou goest". So we both went to the art center to get the particulars on the show.
      And boy, was I impressed! The entranceway into this place was like the foyer of the Grand Palace. Rich Italian marble graced the floors and I noticed that there were two statues of what I assumed to be Oriental Gods on each side of the hallway. At that very moment I was convinced that the only practical thing to do was to make a hasty retreat to the parking lot. And in the next moment I realized that my wife was in some sort of trance. I knew the moment I looked at her that there would be no retreat.
     For all the opulence of the hall, the office was really quite stark. The lady behind the desk was the same.
  "Could I help you?",quiried the receptionist.
   "We're here about the show," I replied.
    "Juried or open?", she asked.
Now if you have ever felt like a damned fool in your life then you know just how we felt at that moment. I had no idea if we were juried or open. A quick glance into my wife's eyes revealed that neither did she! Didn't they cover this sort of thing on TV?
     "er..We..I mean, my wife, has a painting she would like to enter in the show. It said in the paper that you would welcome entries."
    She thrust a paper in my hand. "Here, fill this out".
At this point it was quite clear that she was a bit put off by our even suggesting that they might want a piece of art by "people like us".
     Now anyone who knows me knows that it isn't nice to get me irritated. And I was dammed sure getting irritated. When I get like that I will go to the pits of hell to prove a point. I had no idea , at that moment, that that was exactly my destination.
     "To hell with this", I whispered to my wife. "Let's just leave."
    Well, my wife takes after me. When she gets irritated, she will see to it that I go to the pits of hell to prove her point.
     "Everyone probably has to do this", she countered. "Besides, this is our chance to rub elbows with other artists."
Other artists? My god, Jeri had painted maybe six paintings, seven tops, did she consider herself an artist? I couldn't help thinking just how you became an artist. When does it happen? When you pick up a paint brush do you just assume the title? If not, do you have a certain number of paintings that qualifies you to be called "an artist"? Maybe you have to attain a certain level of compentency..and if you do, who names you? Is there a Presidential Panel who looks at everyone's paintings and bestows the honor?
     Jeri finished the form and we returned it to the desk.
     "You're an open".
  You can't imagine how relieved I was to know that we were an "open". Not that I knew what that meant, but the idea of a jury didn't appeal to me. I kept thinking of O. J. Simpson.
      "Now all I need is your membership number", she said.
      " I'm afraid we don't have one"
      " Oh , but you MUST be a member of the center. This is a members show"
  Now I may not know art but I have been a member of the same lodge for 20 years and I know that the only difference between a member and a non-member is somewhere between fifty and a hundred dollars.
      "Could we join?" I asked.
       "Certainly sir", she replied.
    Sir? Funny thing, when someone who wouldn't have given you directions to the bathroom ten minutes ago, begins to call you sir, you just know that this is going to be expensive.
         "There are several levels of membership available. The common entry level is twenty-five dollars........"
     (She had a disgusted look on her face as she rattled off this category as if she were taking orders at the local McDonalds. I could almost see the "common entry level" members being herded off to some corner to insure that they wouldn't mingle with the "real" members.)
           ".....our Preferred Membership is one hundred dollars, our Charter Memberships is five hundred dollars and many of our finer citizens are Contributing Members which is a contribution of fifteen hundred dollars or above"
       Yeah, right, like i'm gonna' dole out fifteen hundred bucks so Jeri can show her painting! Not even Jeri would ask me to do that and she isn't bashful about asking. But I knew darned well that if I chose the "common entry level" membership that I was going to be sleeping on the sofa again next week.
Now dead silence is a killer at a time like this. I have a friend who sells cars and he says that when you name the price you shut up and the first person who speaks, loses. Obviously the woman at the center had learned the same lesson.
       Let's see.... a hundred makes us preferred. That has a nice ring to it. But then again, for a hundred dollars I could go to a Yankees game, drink beer, and have gas money home. Then reason took over.....the last time I had slept on the couch, the chiropractor bill was $350.
      " I guess the Preferred Membership would be about right for us", I said.
      "Good choice, sir"....."that will be two hundred dollars".
She pushed two cards marked "Preferred Member" across the desk.
       "If you and your wife would please sign a card"
Oh Geeez....There are two of us. Hadn't thought of that. I had just spent my allocation for the Yankees for an entire year!
       I glanced over at my wife and the smile on her face told me that the sofa was going to be lonesome tonight.
       "You folks may be interested in visiting our current showing while you are here. It is by the marvelously gifted artist Joseph Mandet. In the main gallery"
     We paid up, got our cards, and headed for the main gallery. After all, for two hundred dollars I was going to get something out of this.
      The main gallery was a sight to behold. Lots more of those Oriental statues around which was draped  luscious red ropes made of that pretty red felt like in the old theaters. Behind the ropes hung an array of the largest, most appalling paintings I had ever seen! All I can say is that the marvelously gifted artist must have been absent the day these things were painted.
       One painting was particularly noticeable, of course it would have been hard NOT to notice any of these paintings. This one was all green with the oddest patches of red blobs plastered in a couple of places and a couple of  yellow blobs in other places. It reminded me for all the world of ketchup and mustard. Later, an artist friend of Jeri's told us that that was precisely the effect the artist intended. I had spent two hundred dollars to see what I could have seen by lifting the top off a Big Mac!
      By the time we had left the gallery I was in a rather good mood. I  found the paintings laughable and it had lifted my spirits just to laugh a little. Jeri was a little peeved at me for laughing out loud but then we were the only people in the place.
      And that started me to thinking. How on earth does this place survive? It must cost big money to build and maintain a place like this. We had been there for almost two hours and not one other soul had been around.
      As we turned the corner and started to the exit hallway we came upon a large clear plastic box upon which was painted the word "Donations".  There was a slit cut into the top of the box and inside the box was a number of bills none of which were of less than a twenty denomination and several were hundreds and fifties. Grafting!
      Grafting is a term used in bars and nightclubs. The tip jars on the bars are made so that one cannot reach in. Inside the glass jar the bar places a few high denomination bills as if other people have left tips of that size. The idea is to shame the customer into matching the tip of the other clients. Grafting.
      Jeri reached for her purse and I went ballistic. Couch or no couch, we weren't spending one more dime in this joint. I'd been hustled less at Circus Circus in Vegas!
     You might be thinking that this is the end of this story. Think again!
     We were in the car when Jeri chimed, "Honey, I must get a nice frame for that painting. Did you see those frames?"
       Now we may not be big money folks but we aren't poor either and if Jeri was going to display her painting in this place we were doggone sure gonna' make it look as good as possible. Besides, how much could a frame cost, anyway.
       I should have known better! If the gal at the art center was good, this guy at the frame shop was even better.
       "Oh, so you are showing at the art center, are you. You must be a very accomplished artist".
       "Actually, I am relatively new to the art scene", Jeri replied.
        "How very nice that you attained such lofty heights with your art in such a short time. You must be very gifted"
     There was that word again. Gifted. What the hell did that mean anyway? Jeri was very gifted allright, I should know, I had done most of the gifting during the years of our marriage. And from the twinkle in her eyes I could tell that she was about to be gifted again.
         "You will of course need a frame that enhances the beauty of your work. Perhaps a fine gold leaf?"
         Gold??? Oh geeez....
         "How about a nice walnut frame with some gold trim?" I interjected.
         "Sir," shot back the salesman, "One does not display a work of beauty inside such a format."
        Sir? Yep this was going to cost me a bundle!
Three Hundred Forty Seven Dollars!!!! And an extra fifty for what the guy said was mounting. Seems it isn't good enough for me to nail the painting in the frame. It HAD to be professionally "mounted". By the time we left the store I was sure that I would never see the Yankees "up close and personal" again.
         But Jeri was a happy camper and i've been married long enough to know that when she is happy, life for me is good.
        The letter arrived on Gold embossed stationary. "As a member and participant in the members show you are invited to the opening of the Members Show of 1991." "Please bring this invitation."
         Jeri had arrived. She would get her chance to "rub elbows with other artists" as she had put it. And, in truth, I thought it might be at least a "different" kind of evening. We arrived fashionably late as per Jrei's instruction.
        She looked fabulous. At this point, I was not yet aware of the cost of the new gown. The bill came in at the end of the month! Another $185 added to this venture!! I wore my best suite and I thought we were a strikingly handsome couple.
        Brother was I wrong! There were enough white suites there to outfit Ricardo Montabaun. And ascots....ascots!! I hadn't seen those since the fifty's. I hadn't felt so out of place since I stumbled into a male strip club by mistake! These were the people Jeri was so anxious to rub elbows with??
        There wasn't a Miller Lite in sight! Wine and cheese are the tradition for these things, I found out later. However, not being one to pass up alcohol in any form I decided to imbibe. I swear, the glasses they served this stuff in were so small that one gulp and it was gone. Jeri said that I should sip it slowly which I did and still a glass was gone in a minute or two.
       Jrei's painting was hanging in the basement! Really! There was a downstairs room that was so small you could meet yourself coming in. And there on the wall were four paintings one of which was hers. I could see the disappointment in her eyes. As I stood there admiring the work that had cost me in the neighborhood of eight hundred dollars it was all I could do to keep from tearing it off the wall and decorating it with about a dozen ascots which I would happily remove from a like number of necks without untying the knots!
       I hadn't noticed, but I became aware of two men who were standing just behind us.
       "These member shows are so gosh", said one guy.
       " I attend these functions only to please Claude."said the other. "you know what a bitch he can be if one just not stroke his creative forays."
        "Take this monstrosity before us", said the first fella. "Not one redeeming quality, no balance, no symmetry, no talent."
        "One cannot take these shows to heart. One must take this garbage for what it is."
        "Yes", replied the other. "I suppose that we must endure these for the sake of the membership but it is so unsettling to be exposed to this after the brilliance of  a Mandet just two weeks ago."
        Mandet?? Wasn't that the guy with the mustard and ketsup? Brilliance?? What world was I living in anyway? It occurred to me that this was indeed another world. This kind of crap wouldn't float just a hundred feet from here. Outside the door, in the real world. And in that moment, it came to me why all the fuss about ending the National Endowment for the Arts. This wasn't real life. These weren't real people. This was a select group who amused themselves with this organization. Like the Romans at the Coliseum they were here to be amused at someone else's expense. And all the money, all the expense of this operation was being paid in part by MY tax money.
      Jrei was near tears. We stayed a few minutes longer then left. In order to spare her the anguish I went back for the painting a few weeks later. There wasn't any "Sirs" this time just indifference. I bit my tongue, retrieved the painting and left never to return again. To this day they still send me fliers asking us to renew our membership. I operate under the theory that if you hit me once, shame on you. If I allow you to hit me twice, shame on me.
      By the way, the painting hangs over our living room mantel and several people from "the real world" have said that they like it really well. That makes Jrei really happy and in the end, it is something she is proud of. But she gave up painting and she gave up any urge to ever "rub elbows with other artists." Once was enough.