Anticipation by Sarah Mayberry

Author:Sarah Mayberry [Mayberry, Sarah]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Small Cow Productions Pty Ltd
Published: 2015-03-25T00:00:00+00:00

Chapter Thirteen

“Do you think this is supposed to be a statement about domesticity or something…?” Maggie said, her voice lowered to respectful, art-gallery level as they contemplated the piece in front of them.

Set in a white alcove, the upright vacuum cleaner had clearly been well-used. Its cord was wrapped neatly around the on-board holder, the body of the unit angled slightly to show off its profile.

For the life of her, Blue couldn’t work out what it was supposed to represent.

“Maybe it’s about modern art sucking?” Blue said just as quietly.

Maggie smothered a laugh. “Please don’t make me laugh or I’ll never stop.”

From the moment they’d arrived at Maggie’s friend’s exhibition, they’d been carefully avoiding making eye contact with one another for too long or saying too much. One look at the first piece of “art” had been enough to tell Blue what they were in for: a plain white canvas, it had been displayed next to a blank space where, notionally, another canvas might hang. And next to that was a neat, canvas-shaped hole that had been cut into the plaster.

The artist’s statement had talked about “voids” and “the act of creation” and “the expectations of the viewer.” As someone who had studied more than her fair share of the great artists, Blue had no patience for this kind of self-indulgent wankery. She wanted to see skill and craft. She wanted to see ideas and talent. A hole in the wall did not satisfy her criteria for any of the above.

The exhibition had only gotten worse from there, culminating in the vacuum cleaner installation. Or whatever it was called.

“Here’s a plan,” Blue suggested hopefully. “We blow this joint and go grab something to eat. There’s a great new cake shop on Gertrude Street I’m gagging to try.”

Maggie’s eyes lit up. “I heard about that. Just let me find Justin so I can let him know we’re leaving.”

“Make sure to let him know which piece you’re buying,” Blue said, deadpan.

“My God, can you imagine Raf’s face if I came home with one of these?”

“My mind is boggling so hard it needs cake to sustain it. Go tell your friend he’s the next Pollock and let’s get out of here,” Blue said, giving Maggie a nudge to get her moving.

Maggie was about to oblige when an older man dressed in a grey dust coat walked past them, his gaze intent on something behind them. They turned together, just in time to watch as he gripped the handle on the vacuum cleaner, tilted it back, and wheeled it away.

Returning it to the janitor’s closet, Blue presumed.

It was too much. The first bubble of laughter almost exploded out of her mouth. She didn’t even try to smother it — it would be like trying to put a lid on Mount Vesuvius. Maggie was almost doubled over, she was laughing so hard, both hands pressed to her mouth in an attempt to maintain gallery etiquette. When it became clear neither one of them was going

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