I stood before them speechless (there's a first) - not due to their intrigue or beauty but for being so god damn awful.
'Do you like them' said 'boss'.
'They contain such detail' is all I could reply.
Out of earshot of 'boss', the receptionist asked 'DO you like them?' and united in honesty by our lowly status ( mine more than hers because I clean bogs) I said 'No, there horrendous', 'look on the bright side' I added, 'at least the one in reception hangs BEHIND your head'.
During opening night and maybe in an effort to elevate himself in the ranks of sophistication, 'boss' was overheard to tell someone 'I collect art you know' and led the man over to one of his pride and joys. I don't know what the chaps reaction to them was, this wasn't a serious art lovers audience after all. Maybe he had no opinion of them, or worse, maybe he liked them too.
Some interesting issues arose from all of this. Should the public be subjected to anothers choice of art, be it public, community, corporate, site specific, land art etc...
You could argue 'live and let live' or the fact that we already face a daily bombardment of imagery through advertising - what difference does a few paintings make?.
Had the the potential client disliked the work as much as I did would it have tainted his view of 'bosses' company?
How much of art is propaganda ?
Is ALL art propaganda ?
If the audience on opening night HAD been gallery goers how far up the sophistication ladder would 'boss' be then.
At the opening as I wandered amongst the crowd I admit I felt a tad smug at my dislike of the paintings - because I know better - and my rank up that ladder is momentarily higher than 'bosses'. And that's when I felt the twinges of pretentiousness that I ultimately fight against and yet quietly embrace. And that's when I got back to cleaning the toilets.