SHE IS FURIOUS YOU KNOW

by: Helene Gulaker Hansen
The original text in Gallery sofa conversations

A room filled with art can create a rare atmosphere of trust and intimacy. Even with total strangers. I sometimes experience very personal conversations with people I might never see again. Hopefully this man will find what he is looking for.

– Did you sell it?
– Yes.

He closed his eyes. They were foggy when he opened them again. Walked away from me and looked around the gallery. Then sat down. His second time in my gallery. Elegant man with a long life behind him. He had opened the conversation asking for the Julia Hetta picture. The young woman holding the cut apple.

– A whale heart?

He pointed towards a large photograph on the wall and laughed. Room for lots of feelings in there. He gazed at me.

– I thought she was sold. So incredibly beautiful. Still. I came here to buy her. Or it. I used to ignore the Arts. Found it boring. Too expensive. Too simple. Childish. I stopped my wife from buying as well.

He paused.

– She is furious you know.
– Your wife?
– No. The woman with the apple. It´s the cut. Or the way it is cut. Revealing the star.
– Really? I pondered about the star as well. But never thought of her as furious. More confused. Or insulted. From the bite. She didn´t take the bite herself. Do you think?
– I agree. The bite is stolen. And she is furious. Like the other one.
– Who?

The whale heart jumped on the wall.

– She had pink and yellow striped shoes. Horrible shoes. Half my age.

He looked at me to see if I got the point.

– I did. Younger than me.

He studied the row of hearts on the wall.

He turned his head to the row of hearts again. Studied them quietly. One by one. Horse. Human. Dog. Wolf. Crocodile. The Lion Heart. Then back to the Human Heart. Which seemed to be the most fragile of them all.

– We fell in love. She was fun. Happy. Incredibly unstylish. She gave me hope.
– About what? Oh just the classics really. Life being joyful. Easy. Eternal. I’m not a complicated man. Then she got angry.
– Why?
– She was married too. She didn’t want to love me. I was never her plan. Like this woman in the photograph. Wishing the apple had never been cut. Inviting the bite.
– A mistake?

The whale heart stopped. He was silent too.

– Did you stop loving her?
– No. Never. But she doesn’t want to see me again. Ever. Like the piece you just sold.
– I am truly sorry about that. And this was also the final print.

He turned his head to the row of hearts again. Studied them quietly. One by one. Horse. Human. Dog. Wolf. Crocodile. The Lion Heart. Then back to the Human Heart. Which seemed to be the most fragile of them all.