Tresnote Gallery…Outer Zone.
Pre – emerging artist Maiselle Helter enters the white cube styled gallery following an email confirmation from the director: Stephane Claude.
She’s feeling a bit parched after a thirteen and a half hour journey from the northern Olby region. She’s thinking of her two kids she’s left with her mother for the day.
A cyber-chique styled hypereal supermodel gallerist raises her sulky eyes.
Miase: ‘I’ve come for a meeting with Mr Claude at two thirty.’
Gallerist: ‘About?’
Maise: ‘To show me around the space…like…’
Gallerist: ‘He’s on a call at the moment. I’ll check the diary. If you’d like to go on through to the expo space, I’ll let him know you’re here.’
Thirty minutes later.
The pre – emerging artist is sitting alone on a metal bench in the centre of the gallery scanning a text-based work projected onto the white walls of the northern wall.
The reserved gallerist re-appears.
Gallerist: ‘Did you actually have an appointment…there’s nothing in the diary.’
Pre – emerging artist: ‘We corresponded by email, Mr Claude re-confirmed it with me last week.’
Gallerist: ‘Hmmm okaay…why don’t you sign up on our mailing list and we could get all our latest info to you that way? We also have an open submission for our Alt – Contemporary artists under twenty five.’
Pre – emerging artist: ‘I’m thirty one.’
Gallerist. ‘Shame. On your way out…fill in the mailing list…’
A text chimes on the phone of the gallerist.
‘Yah…Mr Claude has been called out on an executive meeting….as I said…the mailing list…’
The pre – emerging artist sits on a metal stool in the centre of the space…returning her gaze to the scrambled texts.
