Chapter 27
Chapter twenty-seven
Bess
Very rarely has there ever been any silence at Tuesday Night Art Fight. There should be, given it's a space for people to work uninterrupted on their artistic endeavours, but with the mix of large and quirky personalities, the dynamic tends to be fairly electric.
However, I have the arguably enviable achievement of having caused a sound vacuum.
It goes on for a full minute.
It's not exactly the reaction any artist wants when they reveal the project they're working on, but at least I can be proud of having a first. Even if it's akin to a void.
Elly breaks first. "Explain again why you've done this?"
I defensively wrap an arm around the shoulders of the sculpture – a wire-framed soldier. "He needs to be realised."
"It's a bit Frankenstein's monster," says Jeanette with her customary sparkle of a laugh.
Tightening my grip, I say, "It's not a bit like Frankenstein's monster. I'm not going to bring him to life."
"You're constructing your ideal man," says Ed quietly.
Maybe I am. I shrug my shoulders. "Possibly. What's wrong with that?"
"It's weird," says Elly.
"I think it's beautiful," says Lutek. "You're creating art that expresses an ideal. Lots of art does."
"Thank you, Lutek."
"Except she's in love with it," says Elly. "It's not right to be in love with an object, even if it is art."
I laugh. "I'm not in love with it. I have an emotional attachment to the man who wrote the letters, but 'love' is a ridiculous notion." I add, "Obviously," but I'm not sure if it's for my benefit or theirs.
"Then why are you making it?" asks Elly.
Turning to face the sculpture, I say, "I need him to be more of a reality than some vague imagining, more than the mystery I've been presented with.
" The six-foot man-shaped frame has all the letters I've received pasted on various parts of his body.
When he's finished, he'll look like he's made of papier-maché.
"I've got to know him one letter at a time, so it's like I'm piecing him together. "
"But there aren't enough letters to cover an entire man," says Lutek.
"I know. Mistral's photocopied them for me so I'll have enough. It shouldn't matter that the letters are replicated, as long as they look authentic. I wouldn't stick the original letters to the frame anyway."
Another silence.
Carlos breaks it by asking. "Why are there holes in him?"
In places, I've cut the mesh so that there are small openings – gaps in which one can place fingers, or eyes to look inside him. "Those are the parts I'll never know. His mysteries. The bits that got censored by the military."
"Ooh, I quite like that representation," says Jeanette. "It definitely makes it more romantic. If that's your aim?"
"If!" Elly's hands are on her hips. "When he's done, are you going to put him in your house and have a relationship with him like some completely unhinged person?"
"No," I say with a patience I'm surprised to find I possess. "I've posted a couple of short videos of his construction on my TikTok. Have you not seen it?"
"I don't have TikTok," says Jeanette.
"Some of us have been too busy making art to sell," says Elly.
"I have," says Carlos.
All heads turn his way.
"And you didn't think you should say anything about it?" says Jeanette.
"Since when were you a social media user?" asks Elly. "I thought you were all" – she puts on a posh accent – "'I couldn't possibly use those technological whojamadaddies due to all the spy trackery, which might compromise my cover as an eccentric ex-shroomhead'."
"Occasionally I like to remind them they have an operative in their midst, ready for lethal active duty should they require it."
"Right," says Elly. "And watching a TikTok channel about men's lack of romantic know-how certainly gives that impression."
Ed's shoulders shake with laughter, but he makes no sound. It's the most engagement he's had with the conversation in several minutes, which isn't particularly confidence-building.
"What do you think of the sculpture, Ed?" I ask.
He sits up suddenly, like he's a school student who's been put on the spot after not paying attention. "Um." He swallows. "What's the response been from your followers?"
It's not an answer to my question and I have no idea why he might be deflecting, but I'll humour him for now given I'm about to do my big reveal and what he thinks doesn't actually matter in the scheme of things.
"Excellent. Like, really fucking incredible actually. They're loving it."
"That's fantastic, Bess," Ed says. "I hope it's selling more art."
And here's the moment I've been waiting for. "Speaking of which, for all you doubters in the room, this sculpture is the answer to our financial problems."
"How so?" asks Ed.
"I'm going to auction him off as an art installation."
Elly raises her eyebrows with an, "Oh!"
Jeanette slaps both her hands across her mouth.
Lutek looks at Ed.
Ed's face pales, which is...interesting?
And Carlos looks at his watch, which would be offensive from anybody else who existed on Planet Earth.
It's not the reaction I was hoping for. They should be ecstatic, especially given the next piece of information. "In fact, I've started the auction on it. It's already past two hundred thousand pounds."
"Oh my God!" says Elly. “Two hundred thousand?”
"I know, right? By the time he's done, he should fetch exponentially more than that and I'll have a deposit any bank will want to take a look at." I eye the rest of the group.
Jeanette still has her hands pressed to her mouth, but is now looking at Ed.
"What the fuck is wrong with all of you?"
"It's big news," says Ed. "We're just...letting it sink in."
Elly asks, "What are you going to call it?"
"I'm thinking A Lettered Man."
"That's clever. I like it."
Nobody else seems to. I shouldn't have to sell the idea to them. It's the answer to the whole The Odour problem, but it seems I have to sell it to them anyway. "See this little cavity where his heart should be? I'll put the original letters in there."
"Ooh," says Elly. "That's a nice touch."
"And my fans and prospective buyers can follow the construction journey, which is part of the artistic experience of the sculpture. They've been part of this journey, of discovering who this person is from day one anyway, so they're invested. It should sell for a pretty decent price."
"How much are you thinking it'll get?" asks Elly.
"I don't know, but maybe several hundred thousand. Hopefully more."
Elly claps her hands like a little kid.
"And...when's the auction close?" asks Ed.
"I'm thinking we should have an exhibition. All the artists that contribute to the gallery can do one installation. Something that makes a statement about what they represent in their art."
"Oh," says Jeanette without her customary enthusiasm. "When are you thinking?"
"In two weeks."
"Two weeks?" says Elly. "We're struggling to keep up as it is."
"We have a rental deadline of just over two weeks. I need to get the mortgage application approved before then, so haul arse now. Thank me later. It's only two weeks."
"Two weeks of all-nighters. People die of sleep deprivation, you know."
Nobody else objects. Nor do they offer anything in the way of support. Instead they look everywhere but at me, and cast intermittent glances at each other.
"What? What is going on with the rest of you? You should be kissing my feet right about now."
Carlos smooths down his moustaches. "When I was in deep cover as a courtesan under Frederik VIII of Denmark, they had the saying 'Better to suck one toe of the king, than risk a whole foot to the backside'.
I thought it was a directive at first. It only took one toe-mouthing incident for me to realise it was a metaphor.
Needless to say, I did earn a very literal foot to the proverbial.
Of course, my Danish is much better these days, so I won't be making that mistake again. "
Elly stares at him for a beat, then shifts her gaze to me. "But will you be able to part with him?"
I turn to look at the sculpture. He's nowhere near finished yet, but he already has a large presence in my life. He has since the first letter arrived. The honest answer is, "I don't know," but what I say is, "I have to," then aim for flippancy with, "He's not my giant love doll. Or anything."
"But is he?" asks Elly.
I turn back to the group. Not a single one of them has even cracked a smile over that last exchange. I don't understand it. "You know what? Fuck the lot of yas. I'm going to get the photocopied letters I left in the car."
I slam the door on the way out.