Earlier chapters

by Mike Schwarcz, text and art

Aisha wrapped up the gallery tour by suggesting they summon her car and go to dinner.
"Sounds great, I'm starving," Miguel seconded the motion.
The ten-minute ride to Le Pinon was highlighted with Cece's recital of interesting facts about Santa Fe, America's second-oldest city, and its oldest state capital. They all agreed it was fascinating, but a mere hiccup in time compared to England's history.

The woodsy private dining room, complete with fireplace and french doors was the perfect backdrop for dinner. Aisha suggested the tasting menu with wine pairings. Everyone eagerly agreed. Small talk about Santa Fe and the local art scene continued. The second-course salad, a small pile of foam on a leaf of lettuce, caused them all to look at each other. Sarah had the first taste.
"Oh my God! It tastes exactly like a Caesar salad!" Sarah looked as amazed as Miguel had ever seen her.

Then, Aisha steered the conversation in an unexpected direction.
"Miguel, I have to be honest with you, I made this trip not only to see your work but, more importantly, to meet, and get to know you better," Aisha said.
"What do you have in mind?" Miguel winked and smiled.
"Probably not what you think," Aisha said, trying to keep him in his lane despite her curiosity.
"I'm sorry, I'm not used to being treated in such a grand manner, Aisha. You've been beyond gracious, and to be honest, I'm fascinated by the similarities of our backgrounds. But the old, cynical me wants to know what's up with all this?" It was Miguel's turn to be direct.
"Sure, let's start with the easy stuff. For starters, I'd like to purchase the two paintings you showed me, if they're available," she replied.
"That's great, I think they're available," Cece chimed in.
"But I also have an offer for you. One that I hope you will find of interest," Aisha said, looking at Miguel.
"Such as?" Miguel looked puzzled.
Aisha's hand slipped into her bag.
"Before I can get into the details, I'll need your signatures on these," she said, laying three NDAs and a Mont Blanc pen on the table."
The three of them looked blankly at each other before nodding, signing, and sliding the papers and pen back across the table.

"Thank you for making that easy. I'll explain my proposal in a minute. But first, I want to tell you about myself and my background," she said.
"To keep it brief, I was born in London, England. I immigrated to the United States as a child and grew up in New York City. My college major was economics at Oxford, and I have a law degree from NYU. My PhD thesis was on the 'Societal Effects of Market Manipulation in the Fine Arts and Auction Markets.'"
"So now, you've decided to go slumming?" Miguel tried to make a joke.
"Miguel!" Sarah gasped.
Aisha smiled at him. "Oh, quite the opposite. Today, my law firm has only one client, a very private individual. He's been influencing art markets for the past fifty years. The few people that know him, call him the art world's ultimate insider. He doesn't discover artists; he makes them, all behind the scenes, of course." Aisha looked around the table to gauge the reactions of those present.
"Miguel, my employer caught your speech to that Hanson fellow and the fireworks show that followed on Instagram. That led him to your website. He likes your work and thinks you could find a place in today's market with the proper guidance. He told me he thought you had "spunk," Aisha remarked, as if looking for an answer to what that meant. Her British decorum crumbled a bit when the girls started giggling. Miguel casually sipped his wine, amused that Aisha had no idea what they found so funny.

"That's very flattering. What does your boss mean by proper guidance? Miguel asked.
"He's offering you exclusive representation," Aisha said.
Miguel was taken aback. What kind of elaborate joke was this?
"You're probably aware that I'm not the first artist to pull that fire stunt, Damien Hirst did it a few years ago," Miguel needed to stall for time while he processed her words.
"I remember that. Poor Damien, he fell hard for that ridiculous NFT fad that you so skillfully mocked. Confusing a crypto thing for an art thing did nothing but hurt his career. If you don't know, Damien is a greedy, emotionless, humorless individual. Only then will you understand why his art is suffering, and his career is in decline; it all went to his head. You, on the other hand, with your elan and that quirky sense of humor, have something my boss believes others will enjoy as much as he has, even if you are a little rough around the edges.

Miguel said nothing. Sarah discreetly poked him in the ribs, but he continued his silence. He liked Aisha, but wasn't sure he was hearing her correctly. He failed to see any logic in what she had said,
"So you and your boss know Damien Hirst?" Miguel asked, stalling again as his mind raced.
"We aren't professionally involved, but I do run into him occasionally, at openings, benefits, and similar events. But, I'm not here about Damien," she moved on, wanting to steer the subject back to Miguel.
"I've been tasked with coming to see your work and meeting you. My client may decide to represent you, based on my evaluation. Is that something you would be interested in?" she asked.
"All because of one little PR stunt?" Miguel chuckled while holding back a roaring laugh. He thought he could possibly be dreaming.
"Yes, one little stunt, Miguel! You've beaten unimaginable odds. We only represent ninety-five artists in the whole world," Aisha pointed out.
What the hell is she talking about?
"Could you tell me the gallery you're involved with? Miguel asked.
"SpACE Galleries Worldwide," she answered coolly.
Cece held her hand to her mouth covering a small gasp.
"Trust me, when I say this never happens, especially at your age." Aisha's honesty was brutal when necessary.
"Like a meteorite landing in my backyard?" Miguel parried, stalling for more time to organize his thoughts.
"Not a bad analogy; something landing at your feet that can change your life forever? SpACE represents exactly that! Financial firepower, experience, and a proven track record. Their connections can place you in the top tiers of the market, if you dare." Aisha looked at him. "Do you dare?"

Miguel was completely unprepared for Aisha's offer. To pivot again after relocating to Santa Fe guaranteed an epic struggle with Sarah, who hated change.
"My turn to ask a few questions," Miguel said.
"Ask me anything." Aisha sat back relaxed.
"You mentioned artistic fireworks. Would I have 100% artistic freedom, or would I be expected to play Eve of Destruction or Light My Fire at all my shows?"
Everyone at the table laughed except Sarah.
"Please! Nothing that cheesy, SpACE sets the standard for posh gallery presentations. I can guarantee you one hundred percent freedom. Creativity is encouraged, not discouraged," Aisha sounded a little indignant.
"I also know it would be a ton of work for an old guy like me," Miguel continued.
"Our staff will be at your disposal to handle the grunt work. You focus on painting. As part of your deal, you'll be getting a beautiful, spacious studio right here in Santa Fe.
They waded through another course before the questions resumed.
"I'm blown away, Aisha. This much excitement could have coronary implications causing heart attack-inducing excitement in an old man like me," said Miguel.
"What do you think, Sarah?" Miguel asked.
"I think it's…," pausing for a full two seconds. "Ridiculous," she said emphatically.
Aisha put her fork down, swallowed, and looked at Sarah.
"I'm sorry, Sarah, what exactly do you find ridiculous? That SpACE Gallery, one of the most exclusive and prestigious galleries in the world, want to represent your husband, hanging his art in their galleries? Or do you find it ridiculous that Miguel could have that much talent? I'm just wondering," Aisha asked politely.
Sarah didn't say a word. Miguel knew Aisha had just made an enemy for life, adding a complication to his life that wasn't there a minute ago. Miguel was a little wary of Aisha; she had clout, she was smart, a little mysterious, and unashamedly classy. And, obviously, she wasn't afraid to fight for what she wanted.

Aisha sensed it was time to ease away from business and take a more personal approach with Miguel.
"Miguel, you're a big mystery. When I ask Cece about you, all I get is a bunch of "I don't know." Aisha said.
"Being a complete unknown can have its advantages, look at Banksy," Miguel smiled.
"So how did you end up in Santa Fe?" Aisha asked.
"I was minding my own business for the past thirty-plus years, living my dream in California. I had a thriving business, living off the boardwalk's tourist traffic, that I believed was going to carry me through retirement. I had a nice place to hang my hat, a boat, and a bicycle. My morning commute was the bicycle path," Miguel reminisced.
"Sounds like the perfect life," Aisha said.
"As far as I'm concerned, it was. But COVID changed everything. Venice Beach became apocalyptic, with homeless camps everywhere, like something out of Mad Max; it was really dangerous. I had zero traffic in my shop for weeks on end." Miguel said.
"It was scary," Sarah added.
"I decided we couldn't go on, and Sarah finally agreed. Retreating to Santa Fe cut our cost of living in half. If I can find a niche in the art market here, we'll be okay, not the retirement I planned on, but we'll get by," Miguel said.
He had never settled for okay before; he was almost ashamed to even say it.

"Miguel, I think that's enough questions for one night," Aisha said.
Miguel chuckled, "Aisha, tonight's been the wildest ride I've been on in a very long time, and we still have dessert, cognac, and coffee.
I'm going to sit back, relax, and enjoy them while I consider your offer. Thank you so much for a great meal." Miguel smiled and slid his hand over hers on the table and squeezed it briefly.

"I have some interesting news for you as well." Aisha turned her attention to Cece.
"Tell me, I'm all ears," Cece perked up.
"The people I represent are planning a major new fine art complex for Santa Fe, a site that would include a SpACE gallery, studios, and perhaps a design center. Aisha said.
"Based on the growth I've seen over the past five years, I think that's a smart decision," Cece said.
"Yes, Santa Fe may be a secondary market, but it's one of the few where we see major growth opportunities. Current generational wealth transfers have caused aging boomers with disposable income to be more open than ever to spending on showcase objects. Look at the number of Range Rovers you see parked around here. We feel in Santa Fe, we can reach our target audience in their backyards and on the golf courses, unlike the major urban markets, which draw a much younger crowd."
"Private equity hotshots and newly rich AI quants from Wall Street vacationing are popping up here year-round these days. It's a growing trend, sometimes you would think we were in Aspen," added Cece.
"Well, when they've earned enough money to convince themselves they're smart enough to win big in the art market, we'll be here, ready to help them try. Right, Cece? Aisha smiled.
"You bet, it'll be my pleasure," Cece smiled knowingly, and they all raised their wine glasses.
"With that in mind, Cece, I want to let you know that SpACE would like to offer you the opportunity to manage the new Santa Fe SpACE," Aisha said.
Cece was silent; she looked down at the table, then toward Miguel, over to Sarah, and finally at Aisha. "Seriously?" she asked.
"Yes, seriously. Mary Goodman from SpACE has championed you for a while, urging everyone to get on board with the idea. The job is yours if you want it. You should consider it," Aisha said.
"I'm very interested. Can we talk more later?" Cece asked.
Of course, I'll have some background info sent to both of you, to help you decide," Aisha promised.

"I'm going to turn the table over to you three," Aisha said as she scooted out of the booth. "You probably have a lot to discuss, and I'm feeling the wine and jet lag, so let me bid you all good night," Aisha said.
Miguel pushed out and got up, offering a gentle hug with two air kisses. The others said goodnight also before they sat down again to digest further.

A server arrived with a forgotten final course while Miguel pondered the implications of what had happened.
"Honey, that woman's crazy, it's just too good to be true," Sarah said finally.
"So, they plan to build a SpACE Gallery, an arts complex, with a studio for me in Santa Fe, and Cece's going to manage it," Miguel said to no one in particular.
"Funny, Aisha asked me questions about my background, indirectly about my finances, if the gallery business was good in general here in Santa Fe, and whether I was happy? etc."
"How many times have you two spoken on the phone in the past week?" Miguel asks Cece.
"Twice with her and once with her assistant. She said she wanted background info on the artist. That's a common request from clients, and I didn't give it a second's consideration. They were gathering background info on us." Cece was surprised enough to remain mostly silent the rest of the evening.

The dessert course, flaming chocolate something served with snifters of VSOP cognac for increased flammability. Miguel was succumbing to a major buzz, the warm cognac sliding down his throat reminded him of how comforting living like this again could become. Once the meeting was wrapped up, Miguel let his senses overwhelm his brain, and he slipped into a fog of pure contentment.
They rode home in silence. Each reflecting, in their own way, on the delicious menu of life-altering possibilities Aisha had presented to them, when an alarm beeped, the vehicle moaned, and their driver quickly pulled over to the side of the road.

To be continued

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