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Retired publishing executive ecstatic with the idea of spending most of his time on the coast of Maine

Tuesday, August 19, 2008

Buy Art Redux

A good thing about Maine is that you can use the words open, trusting, unguarded with more assurance than in most parts of the country or world. Lots of rascals here too, but at least on the cynicism scale, Maine must rank near the bottom. And sometimes things are so accessible that you have to scratch your head and wonder what's going on.

Like this table we saw in Port Clyde the other day. It was placed near the street. No one seemed to be at home in the little white clapboard house. There was no sign proclaiming For Sale, For Rent, For Free. There were no price tags. No artist sitting on the picnic table, not even a clue if the table was the output of a child's play date, an adult's quiet evenings, a supplement to income or the goodness of someone's heart. There were just painted stones on a nice white tablecloth, real, without pretense.

They must have been for sale. But to conduct commerce so disarmingly, even elegantly, puts all the galleries to shame.

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