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Her mother was a shape-shifting, venomous attention seeker, Lucy reluctantly conceded. Was that why Lucy shunned the spotlight? When Maria had offered her a solo exhibition, she had nearly turned it down, and now she was on the cusp of doing the same thing with Anwar’s offer.
What was wrong with her?
From the day Lucy arrived in the world, she had eclipsed her mother and her siblings,. They had retaliated by spraying her with their poison. Lucy didn’t try to glow. She just outshone her mother naturally. People were attracted to Lucy's warmth, beauty, kindness, intelligence, and compassion. She wasn’t attention-seeking. She was just born that way.
“You were always my favorite,” her mother’s best friend told Lucy once. “You were the best of the litter.”
But the words, like all the other compliments people offered her, always washed over Lucy, landing with a splat in a giant puddle of self-doubt. Lucy bit her lips and frowned as she blinked back tears. Her mother had broken her heart and stolen her confidence and self-esteem.
But Anwar believed in her talent.He had purchased all her paintings, and then, when he could have turned a blind eye to her pregnancy, when he could have refused to recognize the child’s legitimacy, when he could have cast them both aside, he determined she was worthy enough to be his wife. And now he was inviting her to co-foundMaerid al'ahlam: The Gallery of Dreams.
Lucy pressed her lips into a determined line. She could advocate for other artists’ work. She could sing their praises far and wide. She could negotiate the absolute best outcomes for others. Why couldn’t she do the same for herself? Why did she always feel so unworthy?
Issy had encouraged her to collect empowering feedback and to reread it whenever her confidence needed a boost. She reached for the little journal she kept on her desk and scrolled through comments people had said to her over the years.
Your art speaks to my soul in a major way.
Your intuitive sense of color is spectacular.
Beautiful energy everywhere where you are!
You are inspirational, intuitive, intelligent, creative, and loving.
She read several more pages, then turned to her newest entry, feeling her heart tingle as she read Anwar’s words.
I’m in awe.
She traced her fingers over the words and touched them to her lips, then closed the book and rose from the desk.
Maybe it’s time I started believing in myself.
CHAPTERTWENTY
"Women have been underrepresented in art galleries across the globe," Lucy said. "51% of the world's official artists are women, yet they make up less than a quarter of the artists exhibited in public museums. I want to help you change that,” Lucy told Anwar over dinner. “I will accept your position. I will be your curator.”
“Excellent! We will make a formidable team with my wealth and your talent.”
“Is that why you brought my whole collection In New York?”
“I recognized your genius. You needed someone influential to give you a start.”
Lucy bit back her retort.
“It does not lessen your capability or skill,” Anwar said, registering her silent protest. “It is simply reality.”
She knew it was true. It wasn’t what you knew.It was who you knew. She could draw a giant graffiti flourish in the style of Cy Twombly and struggle to find a buyer. It could be better than his work, but it would never sell for the hundreds of thousands of dollars Cy Twombly’s connections had brought him. Lucy also knew that Helen Frankenthaler’s success soared when she aligned with referred art critics and married the most influential of them. It would be naive and foolish to struggle on her own.
“Planning the museum will take some time. In the meantime, we will hold an exhibition to showcase your work. It will be a public display of change and solidarity. It will challenge the idea that modern and contemporary art is male-dominated. Just because they’ve never heard of you in the Middle East doesn’t mean you are not here. You will no longer be silent, invisible, orignored,” Anwar said.
“I will do it on one condition, “Lucy said. “I want my exhibition of the works celebrating our son’s arrival to be judged on their merit. The public can vote on their favorite works, and only then, if I am lucky enough to be selected to have a piece in the Gallery of Dreams, it will be because your people deemed me,my paintings,” she corrected, “worthy.”
“Very well,habibti.Together, with the combined synergies of the two events, we will turn up the volume. Not just on your talent, but later, when theMaerid al’ahlam: The Gallery of Dreamsis completed, the previously unheard voices in women’s art will be celebrated. And we will urge the Arabic community and other institutions to join us,” he said, “Unifying our jealous neighbors and giving them something to aspire to. It’s a worthy cause everyone will get behind.”
Later that day, Lucy and Anwar met Melanie to discuss the building project.
“The philosophy that must guide your design for the museum in everything it does, from its foundation to the art it houses, is as a collaboration between two cultures. The dazzling architecture I know you will create will combine the best Western design with Arabic heritage.”
“Other than that, you have a blank canvas—and an open checkbook,” Anwar added.
