Doug Harvey, Three Whippets, & One Pair of Scissors

Okay, before you think I am having the sexual escapade of the century (I wish), I'm going to tell you how I bought a "signed" painting for five bucks, and I wasn't even wearing mascara.

It all began at the Post - a hip, gallery on East 7th Street, in the industrial area, across the railroad tracks, in the middle of nowhere. You pretty much have to be an art spy to find it. And I did. One of my major lifetime achievements.

I had heard about the gallery through Fumiko Amano, a local downtown artist, who is also the local e-muse connector. Once you're on her Atelier Zero List (which is very hush-hush), you are golden. In the art know. Relevant. Happening. 

i.e. how I found out about the Post. And their special month long exhibit - where every night, a different artist displayed his/her artwork. 

I was intrigued by the night Doug Harvey would be there. Doug is the art critic for the LA Weekly and a talented artist. I'd never met him. Plus, I figured his friends would be part of the art scene - and since I'm not - it would be my chance to smooze with them.

When I walked into the small gallery, I gasped. Starring me in the face was a REALLY TALL, brightly painted assemblage of papers stuck together, that kept on falling from the ceiling.

Art? That looks like a bunch of papers stuck together to me. And where were the crowds? The wine. And come to think of it - where was Doug? 

Finally, Doug arrived. With a case of wine. Three whippets. One wife. And a smile. He was late to his own art opening. And as my mother would say, "he's an artist dear."

Yep. He fit the bill. Charismatic. Free spirited. Doug was charming. And he carried scissors, lots of them.

Now that was different. 

I had no idea what the scissors were for - but while Doug was setting everything up, I had a chance to talk with his delightful wife, M.A. Peers, a painter. She was with the three whippets - Nigel, Chloe and Portfolio - who are stars in their own right (they're featured a lot in Doug's work). The dogs seemed to be leading M.A. around on their leashes and not the reverse. 

Ready to begin the performance - so to speak - Doug explained that his art was a statement about something or other and that if any of us wanted to - we could cut out a rectangle (yes, only a rectangle) from his art blob - and that he'd sign it and sell it to us for $5. 

Naturally, I grabbed a pair of scissors and cut away. So did several other people, who had shown up. Would I miss this opportunity? Never. I was back in the sand box. The man was a genius. Gifted. And cut the crap. I needed an art bargain.

Today, I am the proud owner of a Doug Harvey original. It is one of my most prized possessions - not only for the clever way it came to be but for the memories behind it. 

That night, I asked Doug to take a picture of me - standing in the hole of my creation (Remember: my rectangle came out of his blob). 

He did. But, here's what happened...due to an allergy that week, I had forgotten, I wasn't wearing mascara. 

So I had to tell this famous handsome guy who carries scissors, who e-mailed me the pictures, that even though I am an empowered woman, the world CANNOT SEE ME without mascara. Now, that is chutzpah.

But, believe me, you'd thank me in the end. I looked really bad, but happy. Almost like a whippet (but not Doug's whippets, of course).

Comments

[Calle]

Ha! Very funny and fascinating. Love the peak into the art underworld. Sounds like a great evening ;-) xo Calle

[TalesofDowntown.com]

Thank you Calle. A total peek into the art underworld. And with scissors and whippets! Nancy