The Longest Ride(142)
Sophia scanned the crowd, spotting her two art history professors, including her adviser. As the clock approached one, the room slowly grew quieter, the hushed murmur gradually fading out completely when a silver-haired gentleman in an exquisitely tailored suit strolled to the podium. In his hands, he held a folder and he spread it wide before reaching into his breast pocket for his reading glasses. He propped them on his nose, adjusting the pages as he did so.
“Ladies and gentlemen, I’d like to thank all of you for coming to the auction of the extraordinary collection of Ira and Ruth Levinson. As you know, it’s unusual for our firm to host such an event in venues other than our own, but in this case, Mr. Levinson didn’t leave us much choice. It’s also rather unorthodox for the particulars of today’s auction to have remained somewhat vague. To begin, I’d like to explain the rules regarding this particular auction. Beneath each of the seats is a numbered paddle, and…”
He went on to describe the bidding process, but with her thoughts drifting to Ira again, Sophia tuned it out. Only vaguely did she hear the list of those who’d chosen to attend the auction – curators from the Whitney and MoMA, the Tate, and countless others from cities overseas. She guessed that most of the people in the room were representatives of either private collectors or galleries, no doubt hoping to acquire something extremely rare.
After the rules were outlined and certain individuals and institutions thanked, the silver-haired gentleman focused the attention of the audience again. “At this time, it is my pleasure to introduce to you Howie Sanders. Mr. Sanders served as Ira Levinson’s attorney for many years, and has prepared some remarks he’d like to share with you as well.”
Sanders appeared then, a bent, elderly figure whose dark wool suit hung off his bony frame. Slowly, he made his way to the podium. There, he cleared his throat before launching into his speech in a voice that was remarkably vigorous and clear.
“We’re gathered here today to participate in an extraordinary event. After all, it is very unusual for a collection of this size and significance to go unnoticed and unremarked upon for so many years. Until six years ago, I suspect that very few in this room even knew of the existence of this collection. The circumstances of its creation – the how, so to speak – were described in a magazine article, and yet I admit that even I, the man who served as Ira Levinson’s attorney for the past forty years, have been astounded by the cultural importance and value of this collection.”
He paused to look up at the audience before going on. “But that is not why I’m here. I’m here because Ira was explicit in his instructions regarding this auction, and he asked me to say a few words to all of you. I confess that this is something I would rather not have been asked to do. Though I am comfortable in a courtroom or in the confines of my office, I am rarely required to face an audience of this nature, where many of you have been charged with the responsibility of securing a specific piece of art for a client or an institution at a price that even I have difficulty comprehending. And yet, because my friend Ira asked me to speak, I now find myself in this unenviable position.”
A few good-natured chuckles were audible from the audience.
“What can I tell you about Ira? That he was a good man? An honest, conscientious man? That he was a man who adored his wife? Or should I tell you about his business, or the quiet wisdom he exuded whenever we were together? I asked myself all these questions in an effort to discern what it was that Ira really wanted me to say to all of you. What would he have said if he, not I, had been standing before you? Ira, I think, would have said this to you: ‘I want all of you to understand.’”
He let the comment hang, making sure he had their attention.
“There is a wonderful quote I came across,” he went on. “It’s attributed to Pablo Picasso, and as most of you probably realize, he’s the only non-American artist whose work will be featured in today’s auction. Years ago, Picasso was quoted as saying, ‘We all know that art is not truth. Art is a lie that makes us realize truth, at least the truth that is given us to understand.’”
He faced the audience again, his voice softening.
“Art is a lie that makes us realize truth, at least the truth that is given us to understand,” he repeated. “I want you to think about that.” He scanned the auditorium, searching the faces of the hushed audience. “I find that statement profound on a number of levels. Obviously, it speaks to the way in which you might view the art that you will examine here today. Upon reflection, however, I began to wonder whether Picasso was speaking simply about art, or whether he wanted us to view our own lives through that prism as well. What was Picasso suggesting? To me, he was saying that our reality is shaped by our perceptions. That something is good or bad only because we – you and I – believe it to be so, based on our own experiences. And yet, Picasso is also saying that it’s a lie. In other words, our opinions and our thoughts and feelings – anything we experience – need not define us forever. I realize that to some of you, it may seem that I’ve strayed into a speech about moral relativism, while the rest of you probably think I’m just an old man who’s gone completely off the rails here…”