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Tick came up to Kiki and gave her a scorching kiss. “Later.” He tossed Colleen a final look over his shoulder and left the gallery.
Colleen remained quiet as this scene unfolded, unsure what to say next.
“I’ve been dating Tick for a couple of weeks,” Kiki said casually. “We met at another gallery opening and I invited him to come by and see my father’s art.”
“Does he like the paintings?” Colleen asked.
“He thinks so. Tick is sweet but he’s a man-child. Being the lead guitarist of a successful rock band at an early age stunted his maturity. He’s an impetuous boy with a lot of money to spend on anything he wants. And right now, he’s looking for art to fill his Malibu mansion.”
“I see.” Colleen was still uncertain about what her job would entail, because intentionally flirting with clients to make a sale was not something she could do.
“Okay, let’s get back to business. Since we’ve been communicating through email, I reviewed the information in your CV. You’re familiar with many of the up and coming contemporary artists in LA; that experience will help you form a context with the New York art scene. You’ve taught art history; which will be useful when making comparisons to my father’s work. Now, let’s get you up to speed about the Jasper Grayson Gallery.”
“I read the materials you sent me about your father’s work. I’ve seen some of his art in LA, but I’m not aware of his newer paintings.”
“Let’s go take a look.” Kiki ushered her into a separate space with subdued lighting and a series of six paintings on the wall. “Are you familiar with The Grateful Dead?”
“I know they’re a hippie band from San Francisco, but I haven’t heard any of their music.”
“My dad is a huge fan. Each canvas has a scene as my father envisioned a particular song. The best example is ‘Prophet.’ It’s a reference to the song ‘Estimated Prophet’ and includes some of the imagery from the lyrics: the shoreline of a beach, golden sunshine, and if you look closely,” Kiki said, pointing to the canvas, “a shaft of light over the ocean is meant to suggest an angelic presence.”
“Interesting,” Colleen said, taking a closer look at the canvas, intrigued by the swirling colors. “If a potential buyer was a fan, there would be a lot of references and symbolism to explore.” Colleen made a mental note to do some research into the group’s music to understand the correlation between song and symbol.
“Exactly. Tick only knows a few Grateful Dead songs, but he likes the paintings. My father hoped a single buyer who understood the Grateful Dead’s music would scoop up the entire series, so he was surprised Tick is interested.”
“Has Tick agreed to buy the series?”
“There’s no firm commitment yet. My job is to keep his interest and convince him to spend his money here instead of letting him go to another gallery.”
“I see,” Colleen said, her eyes drifting over the other colorful canvases. Once again, a sense of doubt crept up her spine. She still wasn’t convinced she would fit in here. As a teacher, she was required to give lectures on artists that were not her personal favorites, but she wasn’t promoting their art for sale.
“You still have doubts, don’t you?”
“To be honest, I do.” Colleen was surprised that Kiki had sensed her hesitation.
“Let me explain it to you this way.” Kiki pursed her bright red lips together as if deep in thought. “Jasper Grayson is not a struggling artist anymore. His name commands respect. When he completes a painting and places it for sale, it’s not just a painting, it becomes part of his legacy.”
“Yes, of course,” Colleen said.
“An art gallery isn’t an art museum,” Kiki said, with a sweeping arm gesture. “We’re here to sell my father’s paintings to buyers who are collectors, not just consumers. Creating a significant art collection requires time and dedication to learn about the art and the artist.”
“It also requires a lot of money,” Colleen added.
“Yes, it does,” Kiki said, turning to face Colleen. “Do you have any issues with the cost of fine art?” Kiki’s voice was so carefully modulated,Colleen wasn’t certain if that was a sincere question, or a warning.
“No, I don’t. Some people buy art because they love it, and others buy it as an investment. Jasper Grayson’s paintings are a product.”
“Describing my father’s paintings as a product is demeaning,” she said with a sniff. “He has earned his place in the art world by hard work and creativity.”
“So, tell me,” Colleen said, “doesn’t it bother you—even a little bit—that someone like Tick wants to buy this entire series that conveys an important chapter of your father’s life, and he’s a young rock musician who doesn’t know much about the Grateful Dead?”
Kiki’s eyes narrowed as she crossed her arms, saying nothing in response.
Colleen had second thoughts about being so honest. She’d have to be more careful about voicing her opinions so openly. “I apologize for my bluntness. You’re in the business of selling art, but your father must have spent months, if not longer, completing this series. It clearly means a lot to Jasper, but how can he sell it to someone who can’t fully appreciate it?”
“It’s not our place to judge a buyer’s motives. My father understands that, and so do I,” Kiki said, her chin lifted. “The question is, do you?”
Colleen considered Kiki’s question for a moment. If she wasn’t careful, she would talk herself out of a job before it got started. “I’m excited to begin working here.”
