PRINT November 1986


A Romance in Ten Parts, Chapter 3: Frieze

ONE MONTH LATER. . . . Gloom had organized Rex’s dawn, self-pity his morning.

It felt to Rex that everyone but he owned large lofts where they sat discussing art and other artists, that everyone but he lived richly and had bricks of cash which they burned potlatch fashion on expensive-restaurant tables. Artists his age and younger sauntered into their galleries and were met with smiles from beautiful young persons behind reception desks. Only he was without friends, cash, gallery. Rex was continuing in this malignant vein when his fourth coffee gave his heart a chemic jolt of élan vital. He bounded from his futon and launched at a canvas tacked to the wall. Euphoria followed in the wake of each stumble and stroke of his brush. Cézanne groaned and Rex gloated. Yet within minutes he stopped short, his voyage locked in ice, and gloom again swelled his sails.

The November rain swept across his

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