This painting was shown in a ‘charity show’. I decided to offer it free of charge in aid of the charity. Normally one is able to enter a painting and allow a percentage of the price to go to the given charity, should it be purchased. But this time I decided to simply donate the painting, any sale price going fully to the charity.
Nobody seemed to want the painting. Maybe you can see why? (he said smiling, secretly hoping you couldn’t).
In the end someone bought it, by donating a small amount (not the asking price), to the charity.
But you know doesn’t that make life interesting? Here we can fictionalise what the life of this orphan painting might be – the life of a painting that came from the mind of the artist, down through his arm onto the canvas. The artist had his moment of satisfaction, always short lived, regarding what he had just created. A certain minimum affection for it, motivated him to give it to charity.
Like all works of art, it enjoyed it’s moment – a unique contribution to the world, lets speculate that it might one day on its journey through life, be categorized as a ‘junk’ object to be found amongst the clutter of a – junk shop!
There it is, do you see it peeping through – cushions, tea pots, jugs, rugs, mirrors, magazines and books? Catch that certain blue, see that somber look on the attendants face and the holiday-makers on deck, one sniffing the food. And now here it lies, because the person who gave a donation for it, out of ‘pity’, – tired of it, couldn’t make up his mind if it would turn out to be an investment or not, when the painter was dead.
Eventually he allowed indifference to its appearance, to win the day and he gave it to a charity shop, to be placed amongst other ‘junk’ (treasures). So charity never fails (he said texting out of context into a pretext)
Something that did actually happen is as follows: one of my bosses, won a painting of mine, that I had donated to the firm’s golfing society outing.
Donated as one of the prizes. (I dont play golf).
He won it I assume, due to some skill he demonstrated on the day. Many, many years later – low and behold I found the painting in a charity shop, ten miles or so, from our home town.
He had tired of it and perhaps possibly hoping, that I would not discover how it was disposed of, he chose a charity shop some distance away, in which to deposit his prize.
Returning to the charity shop, some weeks later, I found it was gone. Sold to the highest bidder for £40!