by Ryszard Krasowski

Created on: June 19, 2008   Last Updated: June 27, 2008

THE EXPERT.
A man and a woman were slowly walking along the white wall with a few pictures hanging on it. They stopped in front of one of them. There was nothing unusual in their behavior, except one thing - they stopped in front of the painting that was mine.

It just so happened, that looking for a place to live and after checking out quite a few of them, I came across a community full of artists and I decided to make that place my home. If I live among artists it wouldn't be a bad idea to become one of them, I thought. In order to blend in I didn't change my name but according to the saying "when in Rome do as Roman does" I tried to be as Roman as possible experimenting in quite a few fields of art. The outcome of my artistic activity varied. Sometimes I was successful in what I was doing and many times I missed the target. But at one thing I was pretty good. Even in my wildest dreams I wouldn't suspect that there was such a talent hidden in me. The product of that talent was hanging on the white wall in the gallery.

Extremely happy that someone showed an interest in my daub, I came closer to the couple. They were standing there without uttering a word and I wasn't sure whether their jaws dropped with admiration or they were contemplating the value of the painting.

"It's a dashing composition. Don't you think so, Stan?" a woman broke the silence.

"Uhm."

"These constructional blocks and courageous colors attract attention."

"There is a lot of color here," Stan agreed.

"Look at the phallic trees and the vaginal clouds."

"Where do you see it?" the man showed sudden interest in the description of some parts of a human body. "Well it looks to me more like a hydrant than a tree," he expressed his opinion.

"Here and here," a woman pointed to few spots on the canvas.

"I don't see anything like that, Kate."

"Use your imagination, Stan! It is obvious that the author is trying to indicatively corroborate his deep and affectionate state of mind. Don't you see it?"

"If you say so," Stan agreed with Kate's interpretation.

"There is an enormous immenseness, magnificence, severity and sublimation in this painting, dignity and unpretentiousness."

"The painting is really big," Stan admired the size of the painting. "But is it really so beautiful?" he scratched his head.

"There is something magnetic in it. Like a compass needle." Kate didn't pay any attention to what her companion was saying.

"There is nothing that attracts me to it," Stan didn't give in. "A painting on the wall and that's

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