It Ends with a Photo

“I just said it.  I have had enough.”

“Oh come on, Trish.  It is just an idea.“

“A stupid idea.”

“It commemorates our Paris trip.”

“What, when we only did what you wanted?  When made me walk all over Paris?  From one museum to another.  That is all I remember walking.  Commemorate that.”

“You got to go on the double decker train.”

“For one stop, whoopie do.”

“But you gotta do it, you can’t go to Paris and not.  It was the centre of the art world before the second world war.  It was the centre of civilisation.  Anyone who was anyone went there.”

“Yes, OK.  I got it.  You told me a thousand times.  I went with you, didn’t I?”

“It’s not like I am asking anything difficult.  It’s just to stand in the photo.”

“Yes, I got it.  You are going to be Olympia.  I am going to be the maid.  I’m not stupid.”

“I’m not calling you stupid, I just don’t see why you don’t get it.  When Manet painted it things were different.  Loads of the paintings were nudes but this one he put in the detail that made all the difference.  The choker, the flower, the cat and her stare.  She stared at the viewer confronting the gaze.  Confronting the male gaze.  Then when we were looking at it in Paris, I was thinking about her as a person waiting for the tourists to come into the room and examine her, sort of like she were a reality TV show, because that is the equivalent.  And each tourist that steps into the room and they find it difficult to take their eyes off her eyes.  They find it difficult to examine her body because her gaze is so powerful.  And then it is not like late night TV or the internet porn.  But that is all there, art has to reflect everything we see in the world and it has to be about us.”

“Yes, I heard you, you want to make an excuse to spend your day researching the internet.”

“Just because sex isn’t just about making babies for me.  Would have thought it would be nice having a new man.”

“You saying I should be grateful to have a boyfriend who gets turned on by old men painting naked prostitutes?”

“It is more complicated than that.  And if you don’t like what I have to offer why are you still here?”

“Aren’t you listening to me?  That is what I am saying.  I don’t want to do this.  Not this stupid little photo of yours.  This.  This.  I don’t want to do this.”

“So you will do the photo?”

“If that is what you want.  But it ends with the photo.”

“OK, I have set it all up.  You just have to stand over there facing the camera.  Then I will.  Wait a minute, I am just going to take these bits off.”

“What you doing?”
“I have to have a hard on, it only works if I am playing with myself.  I don’t see what the big deal is, you’ve seen me play with myself before.”

“That, that, is just the thing.  It is like you don’t get me.  You just don’t understand me at all.  Did you ever understand me?  What are we doing here anyway?”

“I thought you knew that, I need you to change it from a man playing with himself to reference art history.  It could be anyone.”

“And there it is.  Fine.”

“There are going to be a dozen shots.  Just stand still for a minute.”

“You haven’t heard a word I have said.  Maybe I can say this in words you can understand.  It ends with the photo.  That is it.  I quit.  I am gone.  I don’t take your calls.  We don’t see each other again.  That is it.  It ends with the photo.”

“What has brought this on?   Just because I felt inspired.”

“Give me a break.  All your talk of inspiration, who gives a fuck about the photo.  You’re no artist, no one is going to see the photo.  It will go in the shed with the rest of your great ideas, then you can wank over them one day.  Oh what great ideas I had, if only I had been a little luckier, squirt, squirt.  I could have been so great, squirt, squirt.  There it is, you done?  Like I said, it ends with this photo.”

“OK.  I am sorry.  Yes it is true.  What you say is true.  Yes.  It ends with the photo.  I love you”

“I love you to, but that isn’t what this is about.  It is about us, we don’t work.”

“Isn’t love enough.”

“Sorry, no.  I am going to go now.”

“Bye.”