NOTE: If you haven’t been following this from the beginning, and if you want to know the full sequence of events, start with the introduction. Click on Archives on the right.
We stand in front of a painting of six identical crouching rabbits outlined in a mid-cadmium red, painted on top of a thin wash of vermillion. Two rows of three, all face the same way. They fill the whole space.
“Okay, do you get it, Daisy?”
“Could they be Mr. Liddell?”
“You mean with five of his friends and relations?”
“That’s right, obviously copied from a snapshot by Christopher Robbin.”
“Yeah, waiting to get into the party.”
”I doubt if the artist knows Mr. Liddell.”
“So, likeness isn’t an issue.”
”These are probably generic rabbits.”
“Are they six different rabbits or six pictures of the same critter?”
“They look identical to me, and they are competent line drawings too.”
“Yes, why use red paint, not crayon or something?”
Mr. Bose walks over.
“How do you like the rabbits, Ms. Briscoe?”
“Hi Mr. Bose, they raise a lot of questions.”
“Is that a good thing?”
“Not in this case.”
“Keep looking.”
“I think they are like the start of something, that has barely begun.”
“In that case, it seems you have seen enough!”
“I am not buying today but I would like to bring you some work next month.”
“I look forward to seeing your latest, Ms. Briscoe. Your last one sold within a week.”
“How about you sir? Can you see those rabbits on your wall?”
“No thank you, I am just browsing.”
Mr. Bose looks across the gallery to some small-framed items.
“How about some small drawings, by a promising young local artist?”
“Not today thanks. By the way, do you know if the restaurant is going to reopen?”
“They will open in a few minutes, at noon.”
“Mr. Bose goes over to greet a new customer.”
“Hello! What attracts your eye?”
“Oh hi, ah, I came in to meet my friends, over there.”
Diddlie walks over to us, leaving Mr. Bose to answer his phone.
“Hi, Fred looks like we won’t eat at the emperor’s.”
“Mr. Bose says they are open.”
“Well, the door is locked, so who are they open to, lock-picking thieves?”
“I guess no one bothered to check online.”
“What’s with these red rabbit drawings, Daisy?”
“We were just discussing that with Mr. Bose, Diddlie.”
“I guess the artist traced one six times.”
“How can you tell they are tracings?”
“Because they are all the same, same, same.”
“Are you going to buy them? Only $999.99”
“Are you kidding?”
“Well, that is under a thousand.”
“Yes, a one-cent saving is more than nothing.”
I don’t know that much about art.”
“You know more than you think, Diddlie.”
“Would you buy them, Fred?”
“No, they don’t interest me much.”
“Well, Daisy said you guys have been discussing them.”
“True, but the underlying question was, why is this picture hanging here at all?”
“Kind of obvious, Fred, it might sell.”
“The question is, why would anyone buy it?”
“Well, if somebody thinks it’s art, then they might want to show it off.”
“Yes but look at it, Diddlie!”
“I am looking at it. I even have a sick pet rabbit at home.”
“Well, would you buy it?”
“No way!”
Daisy is tapping her phone and then looks up.
“Wait a minute, look!”
She points through the glass door of the gallery at the open restaurant door opposite.
We all walk over.
“Hello, sir, mam, will it be three for lunch?”
It is Indranil the manager. He shows us to a table in his empty restaurant and soon returns with a faded brown baseball cap.
“Here you are, sir.”
“Thank you Indranil, I had no idea where my Westie cap was!”
“Yes sir, it fell on the floor on your last visit, and you left without it.”
“That must have been a year ago, how kind of you!”
“It was last year, sir.”
Indranil hands us menus.
“When did you reopen?”
“Last April but only for limited hours.”
Indranel walks back behind the bar by the entrance.
Daisy ignores her menu.
“We didn’t see you at the Pigsbreth thing at the auditorium, Fred?”
“What thing, Daisy?”
“It’s a big deal, Fred, Fauxmont was chosen.”
“I didn’t know about it.”
“He is, National Director of Local Coordination or NDLC.”
“Coordination of what?”
“The new administration’s program.”
“Okay, I remember now.”
“Diddlie, was there.”
“That’s right Daisy, I had to check that guy out. I mean, maybe he is another algorithm, like Macadamia.”
“Do you think he is?”
“I don’t think so, Fred, but you can’t be sure.”
Daisy puts down her menu.
“I am having a chicken biryani.”
Diddlie is squinting at her menu.
“I don’t have my reading glasses.”
“You always have butter chicken, Did.”
“Okay, Daisy, that’s it, and, yeah, Albrecht got Pigsbreth for us. It was a gesture of thanks for all his support of the Macadamia campaign. He introduced Pete to the crowd.”
“Why did you go, Daisy?”
“Diddlie invited me, Fred. She wanted some company.”
“It is hard to imagine the two of you at that thing.”
“Oh, it was curiosity, that’s all.”
“If you say so.”
“Besides you can’t trust the news media anymore.”
“I get that! Could we ever?”
“Well, that’s a good question. Was I more gullible, years ago?”
Daisy’s ringtones sound with the call of a Carolina wren. She taps the phone.
“Another junk call!”
Daisy picks up her menu but isn’t looking at it.
“Anyway, Pigsbreth sounded just like his leader.”
“Mac has mastered the media.”
Daisy gestures with her palm up flat.
“Yup, something for every news cycle.”
“Conjuring with images.”
“He perpetuates the irresistible illusion that he knows.”
“Irresistible? To whom?”
“Fred, the faithful follow their prophet. He is socking it to the liberals, bullying the undocumented workers, and that makes those voters feel good.”
“Makes me feel sick!”
“Unfortunately, Did. When the prophet’s people feel good, America is great again!”
“Let’s change the subject, people.”
A waiter comes over with the manager, who stands back.
“Are you ready to order? Something to drink?”
Diddlie speaks up.
“I’ll have the butter chicken with samosa appetizers and iced tea, no sugar.”
Indranel has come forward and taps my shoulder.
“Rosie Pelican larger, for you sir?”
“You remembered! That’s the one, thank you!”
He and the waiter move on.
“By the way, Diddlie, how is Mr. Liddell?”
“He is doing better. I have him in the living room. It is way too hot and humid out in the carport.”
“It is good to know he is back roaming the living room carpet.”
“Yeah, the Red Queen has a lot to say about it.”
Daisy has been tapping her phone. She puts it away, staring at the wall behind Diddlie.
“That parrot has probably been lonesome, Did.”
“No, she has herself for company.”
“What?”
“She talks to herself.”
“Turn around Diddlie.”
She turns around facing the wall behind her.
“Okay, so what?”
“Take a look at the pictures on either side of the alcove.”
“Oh wow, there’s one of those red rabbits in here.”
Indranel is back with iced tea for Daisy and Diddlie.”
“How do you like the new art?”
“It looks familiar.”
“Yes, Mr. Bose gave us both of them for a reopening present.”
after covid.” He goes back through the swing doors to the kitchen.
“Both?”
“Look on the other side, Diddlie.”
“Is that a parrot, Daisy?”
“Yes, a rendering in blue.”
“Yeah, a tracing by the same artist who traced the rabbits, but it is kind of drippy.”
“That’s the medium asserting itself on the picture plane.”
“Daisy, in plain language it is a careless mess!”
“Diddlie, just think about what you are looking at for a moment.”
“I don’t have to think. It’s a drawing of a parrot in blue drippy paint.”
“Right, so all you are seeing is paint-drip or parrot. It’s all just paint.”
“Yeah, but some of the paint says parrot, and some of it says nothing but drip”
“What the paint says is the illusion.”
“So what? That’s what art is all about.”
“That is what rendering is all about. Basically, it is all just paint.’
“Basically, it is paint that says something and dumb paint that drips.”
“You just have to get hip art jargon.”
“Isn’t it obvious? Bose gave those two pictures away because they were too messy to sell.”
Diddlie, I am saying, look at the paint, that makes the illusion.
Daisy sips her tea.
