My brother Dan (see Dan’s Room) has a show in the Shelburne Library here in Vermont.

I went to the library to take pictures of his show.

The pictures I took are horrible: basically reflections of the lights.

 

 

While I was there I met two old ladies talking.

“Are you the artist?” one asked.

“No, she’s not,” answered the other.
“I’m his sister,” I said.

“This is great!” says the one.

“We’re both artists,” says the other. “I do dogs.”

“You had the last show,” I said, trying to sound intelligent, which I am.

She nodded.

“Does he publish?” asked the other.

“No,” I said, “Did you read his statement over there?”

“Yes,” she said.

“It says he’s never published a thing.”

“But he should illustrate books!” argued one.

“I agree,” I said.

“Or magazines,” said the other. “Surely he’s been in magazines.”

I reminded them of the bio.

“Surely, tho, we thought he must have been published somewhere,” said one or the other old lady.

“No,” I said.

“On line,” she said, “He’s published on line.”
“I would like him to put more pictures on my website,” I said.

“I like the woman and the spiders,” said one. “It reminds me of Little Miss Muffet.”

“He sells prints,” I said, “Only $25 dollars, with a mat and everything.”

“Oh, the time to sell art was in the eighties,” says an old lady. The other nodded.

“He was in high-school in the eighties,” I explained.

“Well, the time to sell art was in the eighties,” says the one.

“The eighties,” says the other.

“Nice to meet you,” says the one.

“Tell your brother he should illustrate books,” says the other.

 

So, anyhow. There you have it. We missed out. It was the eighties, the fabulous eighties.

There will never again be any time like the eighties in America.

My brother Dan has lots of excellent pictures.

He sells his prints for only $25, with a mat and everything.

I want him to put more pictures on my site.