Some of you may be wondering why the painting leaning against the wall on top of my file cabinet from my previous post was still shrouded in bubble wrap. Well, it’s a great story. So come closer, lend me your ear… more like your eyes, but you know what I mean. Here goes…
It was the year 2013 – yes, that’s how long that painting has been in bubble wrap – I’d taken a trip to Cape Town, South Africa. It was my last day in town and before hopping the plane back to America, I went over to the V&A Waterfront to do some souvenir shopping.
There was a building there full of merchants (sort of set up like the Slauson Swap Meet) selling jewelry and paintings, and other nick-knacks travelers would want to keep.
I’d seen these paintings with the vivid orange backgrounds somewhere else around town during my trip, but neglected to snag one. It was a choice I regretted. So when I happened upon this guy with an entire booth full of this eye-catching artwork, I knew I had to get one.
The thing about buying stuff in South Africa – or at least Cape Town where I was – is that they expect you to negotiate, haggle if you will.
It reminded me of the time I was in Ensenada, Mexico when I was in high school. It was a quick trip, a turnaround day cruise where I ate yummy street tacos, bought chiclets, and wandered around in shops even though I knew I wasn’t going to buy anything. I remember looking at a silver chain in this one store. I asked the price just because. Then as I was leaving the store without a purchase, right before I exited the door, the guy who’d helped me called out with a lower price. I guess he was so used to people haggling that he thought I was bluffing to get him to come down, when really I just wasn’t going to buy anything. I’ve been cheap for a long time.
But this time in South Africa, I was ready to spend. Though I don’t know how good I was at it. Case in point, I also got my hair braided there and it only costed me $80. I’m talkin’ fake hair included – 80 bucks. They had like three girls working on my head and I was done in less than three hours. I thought it was an absolute steal, and practically ran out of there before they realized their folly and came after me for more money.
When I got back to my hotel, one of the ladies who worked there asked me where I got my hair done and how much it costed. I proudly told her where and how I negotiated them down to 80 US dollars.
“Eighty dollars?” she said, incredulous. “Girl, you could’ve gotten that done for 35.”
What?!
There I was thinking I’d gotten a deal, turns out those girls are the ones who stole on me. But I guess it’s like one of my cab drivers said, if the price works for you it’s still a win. Being the frugal person that I am, I hate spending more money than necessary. But he was right. At the end of the day, I got me some good braids that would have set me back three, four times as much in the US. And, I got to help some young women make some money – a win-win indeed.
So back to the booth where all those bright-orange backgrounded paintings were. There were so many to choose from, but this one of the mom with the little baby on her back while she’s working (at least that’s how I envision what she’s doing) spoke to me. I chose it and he gave me the price. I forgot how much he originally said, but we ended up settling on $30.
Looking back on it now, $30 was probably way overpriced. Not to mention the quality of the canvas is pretty cheap, something I realized when I accidentally put a rip in it a few years ago. But I was on vacation, and it was my last day, and I really wanted one of those paintings.
The merchant took the painting down to get it ready for me. As I reached into my wallet to get the man his money, I realized that I didn’t have enough South African Rand, their currency, to pay for it. At the time 1 US dollar equaled 10 South African Rand. So I gave him, 100 South African Rand ($10) and pulled out an American 20 dollar bill.
At first he began to slightly protest. It seemed to be the objections of a man who’d been cheated out of profits way too many times, but ended up taking a smaller amount out of necessity. I think he may have thought I was starting up the negotiation process again, trying to get him to settle for less.
“No, this is an American twenty,” I said.
His eyes lit up. His disposition changed. Gently he took the bill and examining it in his hands he said, “An American Twenty?” Over the course of my trip, I’d discovered that a lot of people accepted American money, some even preferred it, but not everybody, so when he didn’t refuse my US cash, I was happy. I was finally going to get that painting.
Then something else happened that captivated me. I’d told him I was headed back home that same day and would be taking the painting on the plane. After he got that twenty, he began wrapping the painting very slowly and meticulously.
There was a sense of calm joy that enveloped his face. He was taking forever, yet I didn’t want to rush him, seeing the care he was putting into securing my painting. After he wrapped and taped the frame, he cut and rolled some bubble wrap to create a little handle, making it easy for me to carry as it wasn’t going to fit in my suitcase.
I carried that painting through immigration and security. It fit nicely against the wall of my window seat and flight attendants didn’t bother me. And for the two hours from Cape Town to Johannesburg, the 17 hours from Johannesburg to New York and the six hours from New York to LA, it remained intact, in one piece.
And so I ask you, how do you define artwork? Is it a technique? Is it a thing of beauty? Something that’s complex or abstract? Something that makes you think?
With this painting, for me, it was the sparkle in that man’s eye when I gave him that twenty. It was the care he took to ensure the painting would make it safe on a trip, that took a route, not lost on me, so similar to the treacherous the middle passage some of my ancestors took, this time under much different circumstances. It was the fact that because of him, I was able to get it back unharmed, in one piece.
So now, when I see that bubble wrap, especially that handle – which over the years has gotten dingy – just like when I first brought it home, I can’t seem to take it off. That man’s handy work is the real artwork to me.
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