Ilze Berzins

Charmed or snowed? That is the question.

Yes, I suppose I still sort of like Realtor Max. Still, having slept on his spiel, the charm has dissipated but the words linger on.

He wants to bring in a STAGER.

Giving a cursory sweep of his hand, he asked: “You do all this?”

“Yes, those are my paintings,” I replied, somewhat taken aback. Now I know the guy’s not a connoisseur but, until now, my work has been admired and valued. From past exhibitions I’ve kept a few paintings particularly meaningful to me, all in costly frames.

“Well, this is OK,” Max continued blithely, shrugging at my Sunflower “But…” he trailed off, glancing at a large painting (actually unfinished) above the mantle. I like to live with a piece, see what it tells me. For now it tells me leave me alone.

Then we get to ‘clutter’ (Max’s word).

In an heirloom silver frame I have photos of my family—black and white, some circa 1918.

They should be gone.


Comments:

One Response to “SNOWED IN SCRAGSVILLE”

  1. Louise writes:

    Who should be gone?

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