Nerves, a shake of the hand, the opening of the exhibition, will there be anyone around. She read the blurb, how they extol the works of those long gone, who didn’t make a penny from it, yet they praise them all around, for the cost of buying the art today. The Gallery girl has no such illusions; she has heard all the talk, knows a certain truth, nobody does it for cash, they do it to show off the talent, a form of Gift, amen.
In war truth suffers first, the latest blockbuster about the Vietnam war, another example. Then it’s the artists, did the Dixie Chicks…
Dixie chicks really complain about the war in the Middle east, a million dead and injured many years later, on account of the rush to the front, like all artists, those with minds of their own, they offer a truth of their own.
How will God judge the exhibition, she is a believing gal; her talent is obvious, a gift. Will he wonder from exhibit to exhibit, or just look at the price tag and decide. Imagine it, God and the price we put on everything, in order to justify doing something about it; Gallery Girl Hurry up, there is an opening there for you too.