Posted by Civilian Eryn Romanov (Colonial Intelligence Agent) in Turner’s Gallery of Fine Art - Making The Scene

Posted by Major General Charles Tenkiller (Vice-Commander, Colonial Customs and Defense Agency) in Turner’s Gallery of Fine Art - Making The Scene

Posted by Civilian Eryn Romanov (Colonial Intelligence Agent) in Turner’s Gallery of Fine Art - Making The Scene
Posted by… suppressed (3) by the Post Ghost! 👻
Oed V was rapidly becoming a destination for the ‘art crowd’ of the quadrant. Thanks to some very generous donations arraigned by the Finance Minister, a select few galleries had opened and the response had been immediate and quite positive. At the center of the new movement was the art gallery of one Franklin Turner. Turner’s Gallery on Outpost 42 had been well known throughout the sector’s art circles as the place where hard to find pieces could be found, artists commissioned, and most importantly… for the shows. Now that he had relocated to Oed V, Turner’s shows had increased in visibility, glamour… and size. The Turner Gallery shows tended to showcase well-established artists in all mediums, but every now and then he hosted a new up-and-coming talent. It was one of these shows that Franklin was setting up for; in a multi-aryist showcase featuring the metalwork of Eryn; a reclusive artist of no small reputation.

“Trust me. No one will know it’s your work. Quite honestly, the anonymity of the artist is drawing as much attention as some of the pieces in the catalog.” Franklin said with a pat on the shoulder to the man standing next to him. They were both watching one of the gallery workers hang a particularly striking piece of black and gold fractal patterns.

“Ok, as long as we are clear. I don’t want nobody gettin’ back to me on this.” the dark-red skinned man said.

“Not at all. I guarantee you. Just like the Outpost, I have it all ready. And, to put the rest of your mind at ease, I have arraigned the proceeds of any sales to go as you have directed. Seventy-five percent will be sent to the accounts of the Osage Nation via anonymous donations. Twenty percent goes to the Medicine Without Borders Foundation, and the remaining five to the account here on the colony. All as you have requested.” and he stepped forward “Up on the left corner, Saul… yes. Right there. Good.”

Tenkiller looked around. There were about two dozen pieces he had done, each abstract… but with an underlying sense of order. He looked around again and then said “Ok, Frank. They’re all yours. See you for the opening tonight.” and the Vice Commander of the Colonial Customs and Defense Agency walked out of the gallery.

Tenkiller, VC - CCDA

Eryn’s metal work art was well known and the Korda family was very proud of her skill. In fact they are the ones who arranged for her first show on Risa. Since then the gallery on Risa had exclusive rights to showcase her work. The Kordas liked it that way. Oh there had been requests before from other galleries, but the Kordas always ignored it. The first exception was when Eryn had arrived on Oed and discovered the Risan Gallery had a small showroom here at the colony. Being the same proprietor it had been easy to convince Mother Korda. Eryn had also helped headline for a few new up coming artists on Risa.

Arranging to display her pieces with Turner had taken some ‘negotiation’ Eryn-style. She was giving a larger chunck of the profit to Mother Korda, but Eryn didn’t care about that. Her pieces brought in more than she needed, but after this show Eryn would continue to ‘thank’ the family but she would be in charge of where, when, and with whom she showcased. Slowly breaking ties.

At the delivery entrance to Turner’s the irritated clipped Russian accent of Eryn carried clearly into the Gallery proper. “You do NOT handle my art vork! Only zhose I hired vill move zhe crates.” There was a pause and then a laugh that was not amused. “Little boy, you don’t touch. I do not require your assistance. Do I need to show you vhat happens if you try?” Grumbling from Turner’s workers were heard and the sound of anti-grav sleds as the crates ranging from a ring box to ones half the size of the loading dock were moved.

The heavy thunk of boots and the white blonde woman made her way into the gallery proper. Brown leather pants tucked into heavy combat books with a elegant silk blouse in midnight blue adorned the reclusive artist. “Turner? Vhere is Turner? I must show him this piece. It is most delicate.”

Eryn

Turner pinched his nose and quietly wished for more artists like Tenkiller: anonymously willing to let him handle things. But instead of grabbing the letter opener fashioned into a… um… a what-ever-the-hell-it-was she had made, he simply put on the pure Latium smile and looked at her.

“ERYN! DARLING!! I am so happy you are here! And yes yes, I will look at the piece in un scoche, my talented twister of metal. But first you simply must see the work you are showing with.” He put an arma around her lightly and gently ushered her towards the painting of the anonymous artist. “They say he paints the building blocks of creation. You have to see it.” As they moved away, he looked over his shoulder and motioned silently for his staff to get moving.

Turner

And here we go. Eryn hated this part, but it was essential. She smiled vaguely at the man, the piece she was holding sliding into a pocket. It was not what she intended to show him. Such familiarity made others desperate for acknowledgement and approval feel better. Eryn was not so inclined for such things, and she preferred not to be touched. Or at least artist Eryn preferred. She gave the man a resigned sigh and stepped out and away from his arm. “Ah yes. You vill not tell me zhe name of zhe other artist, fine. But I must know zhe standard is high. My reputation is supporting your up and coming star. It must have passion. It can be awful if it has passion.” Internally Eryn found the way people created and used such grand statements of talent highly amusing.

Turner smiled slightly. “Oh, they are not up and coming. Their work is quite known, although not nearly as much as you of course. They are the one that is still the anonymous factor.”

She moved into the area and stopped, her eyes scanning the paintings. She stood very still, only her eyes moving from painting to painting for several minutes. “великолепный (Magnificent). I have not seen anyzhing like it.” She approached one painting, probably the smallest in the showing, but, at least in Eryn’s opinion, it was the most moving. It wasn’t incredibly detailed, abstract like many of the pieces. “If he is so inclined to sell to me, I vill give him 3 times vhat is being asked for zhat one.” What was not known was Eryn was a strong patron of the arts herself, but only collected pieces from shows like this, that showcased new artists.

There was a commotion from the back and Eryn turned hurrying back that way when there was a crash, “I told zhem not to touch zhe art.” The crate was smashed and both the movers she hired and Turner’s people stood there. The crate was an extra, a piece that Eryn had only finished in the very early hours that morning. It was the first piece in years she was actually excited about. She had intended to give it to Turner to do with as he saw fit. Donate it, sell it, use the money to support his gallery, a charity, whatever. Now it was simply a heap of delicate twisted wires in jewel tones along with precious stones, or maybe they were metal she had coaxed into the shape and color. Inside she was crest fallen, outside she began to rant and rave like the artistic diva she was supposed to be. “You, you vill NOT be paid. I said do NOT touch zhe art, and specifically do not open zhis crate! Yes? You vere all zhere at zhe studio and signed zhe instructions! Be gone you incompetent…” and she digressed into swear words that most of the people there would never have heard before.

Eryn

Turner again sighed and said “Madame, I am so sorry.”He looked at the remains and said “It was truly a magnificent piece.. However this is why I insist on my own staff moving pieces. No one working for me has less than five standard years of experience and are trained by me personally.” Before any fingers could be pointed, he snapped his fingers and two large Bolians came into the gallery space dressed in dark suits with comm pieces in their ear. “Security, escort the movers out immediately.”and they were moved briskly to the door.

Eryn looked at him disdainfully, “It vas specifically packaged and had to be unwrapped in specific order to avoid zhis. Hence vhy I said do not touch zhe art.” She looked down at the mess and sighed. “It is ruined. I can not salvage it before zhe show. It vas an extra piece not on zhe program. Its loss vill not affect zhe show.”

Looking at the twisted mass on the floor, Turner smiled. He looked at Eryn and said “Madame, with your permission…” and he turned and looked at his staff. “Use the transporter. Move the piece as is to zone 7, section D, place 4. Entitle it ‘Reflections of Perfection, and add a small plaque saying ‘This piece was a victim of fate, but art is immortal.’.” He turned to Eryn and said “Your talent is still evident, Madame. And if I have to buy the piece myself just to show it… I will.”

Turner

Eryn shrugged. “Do as you vish Turner. It vas for you anyway. If you can make use of zhat mess…” She glanced at the other crates. “Nothing else is so delicate.”

Romanov

Turner gave her a small bow and said “I appreciate the piece as is, Madame… and I will proudly display it in any of my galleries. I thank you for your kindness. Now! Onto more pleasant work. The piece you mentioned is for sale, yes. But you cannot buy until the show. I will, however mark it reserved and.. with your permission… by you specifically.”

Turner