| Retro-disability |
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I can't seem to shake the thought. Although I always try to be pleasant to artists who come to the gallery to inquire whether I could be persuaded to let them exhibit their work, sometimes my mind simply wanders. I usually explain, either in somewhat broken English or in neutral Dutch, what I specialise in. That does not, however, deter them from asking expectantly whether I would be good enough to have a look, which I usually do. Occasionally, however, as happened this time, I blurt out that it's no use. The response was an expression of dumb-foundedness, of not being able to imagine that I might in fact be unwilling to look at his work, to enter his world. Of course you appreciate, as I do, that there are invariably two sides to treating people humanely. In the case of rejection, it can be difficult to tell where being nice stops and being a hypocrite begins, bearing I mind that there are quite a few people who wouldn't recognise self-criticism if it leapt up and bit them on the nose, which means that I frequently find myself staring at fairly miserable creations. For the sake of self-preservation I refuse to get drawn into a debate: the truth is seldom what they're after, and why should they? In spite of my mocking references to the Van Gogh syndrome, my subjectivity and yours ensure an inevitable stalemate. Art is about passion and magic, so you never know, and it is in this vein that I conclude many a rejection, thus belatedly generating a sense of relief. The eager artist's expression says it all: how can I possibly pretend to have an opinion when I haven't even taken a look? He turns on his heel and stomps off, together with his small, stony-faced wife, with her air of an assistant director who much against her will has been ordered to keep mum. She leads a fair little boy by the hand that looks up in wonderment. Although my daughter has reached the stage where she finds all boys useless twerps, shouldn't I advise her against marrying an artist, bearing in mind that I tend from time to time to be one of the nicest gallery owners around? Is this what they mean when they talk about occupational disability, and if so, what should I do to fix it? Did I just say "fix"? |