Page 121 - Just Deserts

Chameleon Dress Tips

Frisko had been around long enough to know that money would
follow a dealer perceived by the nouveau riche as possessing an eye
for the best contemporary pieces. And Frisko needed seed money for
his next great project, ‘Balloon Moon June.’ He rolled back the cuffs
on his mail-order denim work shirt to indicate his involvement in the
hands-on process of making great art, but did not feel impelled to
change out of his Italian loafers. Then his own doorbell rang; he
waited a few seconds to avoid giving an impression of eagerness,
then unlocked and unbolted the door.
“You must be Evian Beek. Please come in; you’ll have to excuse
the mess, of course. But you must be used to seeing artists in their
natural habitat.”
Beek, a trim middle-aged man in gray flannel slacks and navy
blazer, shook hands with Frisko and smiled. “Yes, and I’ve been in a
few studios, too. Well, this is a great honor, Frisko. Your work has
been of interest to me for several years.”
“Oh?” Frisko indicated an armchair covered with a paint-spattered
pashmina shawl. “I’m flattered. Would you like a cup of coffee? It’s
instant, I’m afraid.”
“No thanks. I’ve just finished a cup at the gallery.”
Frisko skipped into the kitchenette and turned off the burner.
Evian Beek dusted off the chair with his pocket handkerchief and sat
down. “I was still in England when your early performance pieces
gained so much notoriety,” he said, as Frisko returned and flopped
down on a once well-upholstered chaise longue. “The London papers
made a great to-do about ‘Andante Spumoni,’ as I recall.”
The artist frowned. This was indeed an event in his past, all the
way back to the Sixties. “Ah, yes: the string quartet suddenly breaking
out into an ice cream fight. I believe one or two music critics were in
attendance, under the misapprehension that a real concert was to be
given. Being seated in the front row, they were of course splattered
quite a bit. And madder than wet hens!” He laughed convulsively,
nearly upsetting his coffee.
Beek smiled and nodded minimally, as if a layman could not
excessively share in the jollity occasioned by the evocation of a
cosmic joke perpetrated upon his own sort of lesser being.

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