Read Online The World According to Bertie by Alexander McCall Smith - Free Book Online Page A

we call a canvas that was simply blue?”
    Matthew thought for a moment. “
Depression at Sea
?”
    â€œNot bad,” said Angus. “A bit short, perhaps? What about
A Depressed Conservative at a Risqué Film Convention
?”
    â€œExcept that people don’t use the term ‘blue film’ anymore.”
    â€œBut we do talk about turning the air blue,” said Angus. “One turns the air blue with bad language. So how about
A Sailor at Sea, Swearing
?”
    â€œMaybe,” said Matthew. “And green? A completely green canvas?”
    It did not take Angus long. “
An Envious Conservationist Sitting on the Grass
,” he said. And then he added:
Reading
Our Man in Havana.”
    Matthew looked blank for a moment, but then he laughed. “Very clever,” he said. He was about to add something, but then he remembered how the conversation had started. “That canvas of yours,” he said. “I could sell it for you. Just sign it, and I’ll sell it.”
    Angus looked puzzled. “But I haven’t begun…” he said.
    â€œIt’s plain white,” said Matthew. “Just sign it. I’ll put a title on it, and we could see if I could sell it. We could follow our late friend, Monsieur Artaud.”
    Angus was scornful. “A waste of a perfectly good primed canvas,” he said. “We don’t have a sufficient body of pretentious people…”
    Matthew interrupted him. “But we do!” he said forcefully. “Edinburgh is full of pretentious people. There are bags and bags of them. They walk down Dundas Street. All the time.”
    At this, they both looked out onto Dundas Street. There were few people about, but just at that moment they saw a man whom they both recognised. Matthew and Angus exchanged glances, and smiled.
    â€œPerhaps,” said Angus.
    â€œExactly,” said Matthew, producing a small tube of black acrylic paint from a drawer. “Now, where do you want to sign it?”
    Once Angus had inscribed his signature, Matthew raised the issue of the painting’s title. He held the white canvas up and invited Angus to suggest something.
    â€œIt looks very restful,” Angus mused. “Something like
Resolution
might be a good title for it. Or perhaps
The Colour of Silence
?”
    â€œIs silence white?” asked Matthew. “What about
White Noise
?”
    Angus thought that was a possibility, but was just not quite right. Then it occurred to him. “
Piece Be With You
,” he said.
    â€œPerfect,” said Matthew.
    Angus nodded in acknowledgement of the compliment. “The subliminal message of such a title is this,” he said. “Buy this piece. That’s what it says. This piece wants to be with you.” He paused. “Of course, we could increase its appeal simply by putting an NFS tag on it–not for sale. That message would fight subconsciously with the encouraging message of the title. And the result would be a very quick sale.”
    Matthew reached for one of the sheets of heavy white paper on which he typed labels for his paintings. Inserting this into his manual typewriter, he began to tap on the keys. “Angus Lordie, RSA,” he said and typed. “Born…” He looked at Angus expectantly.
    â€œOh, nineteen something-or-other,” said Angus airily. “Put: Born, Twentieth Century. That will be sufficient. Or, perhaps,
floruit
MCMLXXX. I was in particularly good form round about then.” For a few moments he looked wistful; MCMLXXX had been such a good year.
    Matthew typed as instructed. “And the price?” he asked.
    Angus thought for a moment. It did not really matter, he thought, what he asked for the painting, as he did not think it would sell. But it occurred to him that if he was going to expose artistic pretentiousness–and artistic gullibility–he might as well do it convincingly. “Twenty-eight thousand