Viva la Resistance
Finding a place to park was a bitch but eventually, we found a spot across the street from the house. I didn’t realize that it was going to be as big of an event as it was. Or as entertaining.
Ann got tickets to this auction and booked a babysitter about a month ago so I had to attend with her. It was a charity art auction to support “The Resistance” where the proceeds supported the battered women's shelter and LGBTQ rights in some fashion. I had never been to an auction before but there was a bar there with beer and wine so I figured I would survive. Although I’m all for equal rights for everyone I hate getting into conversations about it because I have to listen to other people’s opinions on the subject and it seemed like a quasi sophisticated event so I was fucked either way.
We presented our tickets and entered. It was a big house that they had turned into a meeting hall/printing press. The front door opened to a hallway that leads to a giant corridor which I guessed was once a living room based on the fireplace in the corner. The place was packed with various paintings displayed on the walls in the big room. The guy to girl ratio was a little more even then I thought it would be which surprised me but ultimately didn’t matter. Everyone sported very colorful attire. Most of the paintings were of naked women and flowers meant to resemble vaginal lips and famous members of the feminist movement and paintings of empowerment quotes.
“My god, I want them all’” Ann said. She walked over to one that was an abstract depiction of a woman looking into the sky or something. I made my way to the bar in the next room.
On the way, I passed a painting of a turtle that halted my stride. Have you ever had a painting do that? Stop you dead in your tracks in a crowded room bustling with bullshit. It’s invigorating.
It was a watercolor of a turtle swimming in the ocean next to a school of fish that resembled plastic bottles and a jellyfish that resembled a plastic bag. Obviously a statement on America’s disregard for ocean pollution which I get but the colors and aesthetics of this turtle’s nonchalant attitude were beautiful. I could stare at it all day.
Some guy with a perfectly sculpted goatee and a red beret noticed me stopping to observe this turtle and immediately his eyes widened.
“Beautiful, am I right,” he smirked, “The artist really sheds light on our complete and utter negligence of…”
I nodded and turned to walk to the bar. Some people can’t help but fuck up a nice feeling. The bar was serving lite beers and IPA’s from a refrigerator for $4 a pop so life wasn’t so bad. I grabbed an IPA and headed for the bathroom.
I knocked on the door. There was someone in there but no line so I waited and people watched. It was loud and chaotic but the energy was there. It was a very liberal atmosphere which was fine but it was almost a bit too over the top. Not more than I could handle though. I fucking hate people but I love them just as much as I hate them. It’s a nice duality to live with.
A girl came out of the bathroom and told me that the toilet was broken. I offered to help and was met with a steely glare. I was brushed aside by another girl and a guy with a colorful mohawk and very tight jeans on. All three of them examined the toilet and began tinkering with it. I drank my beer and watched.
Although I understood their need to solve the problem themselves after three minutes my bladder had grown irritated and my willingness to stand by and observe decided it was time to intervene.
“I got you,” I said as I entered the bathroom and made my way through their disapproving looks. I took off the top to the tank and reattached the chain to the handle and flushed it. The trio looked at each other and quickly walked out. I shut the door. I couldn’t stop thinking about that fucking turtle.
Ann met me at the bar.
“Hey babe, did you see anything you like?”
“Not really. I like that turtle close to the door. You want a glass of red wine or you thinkin a beer?”
“Hell yeah babe, that turtle is nice. I’ll take some wine and then I want to show you what I like and introduce you to some people”
I ordered another beer and a glass of wine for her and we went back into the den. Ann showed me some paintings she liked and introduced me to various people whose names I immediately forgot. She was in her element and was excited so I was animated to meet them and engaged in as much surface conversation as necessary. It’s not often we hire a babysitter so I wanted her to enjoy herself. The IPA’s were 8.2% so I was enjoying myself as well.
There was a band and some tables and chairs outside so we mosied over to the outside. Ann saw someone she knew sitting at a table with two empty chairs so we walked over. Ann introduced me to her friend and we sat down. Her name was Megan and she was involved in one of the mom groups that Ann attended when our daughter was born. Megan had a son that was born a few days before our daughter. Seemed like a nice girl.
They spoke about what they had been up the last two years and traded war stories about raising 3-year-olds. Ann asked about a retreat that Megan ran last summer that she had seen on Facebook.
“It was actually a lot of fun,” Megan said. “Very enlightening and much needed. We had a good group of about 10 ladies. We went out into the mountains and focused on our own needs and desires. Lots of good balancing energy. I really needed it. I found the perfect balance of my masculine and feminine energy out there. We just never really…”
The band caught my attention. It was a duo of two sisters. One played the guitar and one played the bass and sang. I always liked bass players that sang as well. It was a blend of folk and rock n’ roll. Not hard rock but not quite classic rock. They played well. They gave a shout out to their mother who was walking around dancing and singing the words. Mom was having fun.
“Hey man, you want to smoke this?”
I turned toward the voice. Megan was holding out what appeared to be a vape pen towards me.
“What’s in it?” I asked.
“THC oil,” she said. Well now, this is interesting.
I accepted her offer. It was strong. Ann smoked some too which was uncharacteristic of her since becoming a mother. It was nice to watch her engage in some mild debauchery.
Almost immediately after I thanked Megan and gave her the pen back the auction began.
The tables and chairs were set up in a U shape so everyone could see the stage. A dark-skinned woman held the microphone center stage. When she raised the microphone to speak a loud motorcycle rode by revving hard which followed by a groan from the auction attendees. I chuckled and Ann hit me.
After thanking all of us for coming and supporting the movement and supporting local artists and supporting the band the woman with the microphone had someone bring out the first auction piece. And I do apologize but I don’t remember what the woman with the microphone’s name was because at this point in the evening I was slightly discombobulated so I will now address her as Mona.
“OK ya’ll, I’ve never done this before so bear with me,” Mona laughed with her southern twang. She walked over to a painting being held up of the earth on fire with some quote about the earth crying out to the other planets for help in the background. “Our first piece is a pastel painting on canvas by Caleb Solstor. This artist is VERY politically minded and is ACCLAMATION Magazine’s featured artist of the month. Let’s start the bidding at $100.”
Silence.
Mona just stood there. Eyes darting all over the crowd while her smile slowly lowered.
“Come on ya’ll,” she laughed, “this is a good piece. Do I have $90?”
More silence.
“$80?”
Now it was uncomfortable. People were shuffling feet. You could feel it. Finally a voice from the back.
“I’ll give you $60 for it,” said a woman with blue hair as she raised her paddle. Mona didn’t know what to do. It was her first time. Poor girl.
“Going once, going twice, three times……and sold to number 56.” Mona looked at #56 like she just threw her a life vest. “OK, and the next painting we have here is…”
The next few paintings were of peace, love, feminism, and a corgi. No idea how a painting of a dog fit in the mix but honestly it was one hell of a painting. The bidding wars began after the first painting was gone, which was fun to watch. I think it was everyone else’s first time at an auction as well so the crowd needed to be warmed up. Also, that first painting was shit.
Ann liked every painting that went up but promised herself to wait for the one that she really wanted. It was a portrait of a woman’s profile done in green and orange. Very dark. Very sexy.
I began to people watch again. The crowd was fun to pick through. There were three categories that everyone fell into. Those in the movement, those who lightly followed the movement, and the plus ones. A group of plus one’s were on the outskirts of the crowd holding drinks and stumbling around. They were noisy but were trying to keep it down. We were about 12 paintings in and the crowd was alive again like they were inside. Two men got into a bidding war over a painting of a flower and that just tickled Mona. She thanked them both for feeling comfortable enough to participate in an event that supported “The Resistance”.
That struck me as odd. Why did she say that? What did it mean? I felt that dulled their support. Belittled it almost. I’m not sure why. Maybe it was her tone. It sounded appreciative and yet condescending. It wasn’t bothersome, just interesting.
Ironically enough the two men began shuffling their feet uncomfortably as soon as she said it.
After two more paintings, we finally arrived at the turtle. Ann shook my leg and smiled. She liked it too. Or at least she pretended to.
After Mona introduced the painting she started the bidding at $60. I raised my paddle.
“Do I have $70?”
A very distinguished looking gentleman about two tables away raised his paddle. He had a silver head of hair combed straight back and a peppered goatee. He was dressed in a casual dark blue suit. He glared at me. It was almost intimidating but he had a lazy eye that was also looking a little to the left of me.
Before Mona could ask for $80 I had my paddle up.
“Oh, someone wants this one. Do I have $90?”
The old man smirked and raised his paddle again. He glanced at the woman by his side and laughed loudly.
“I have $90. Do I have $100? $100?”
Silence. The old man sat looking forward. I was going to bid again of course but something about the was he looked at me and laughed rubbed me the wrong way. Mona looked at me.
“$95. Do I have $95?”
I looked at her. Ann squeezed my leg again.
“OK I have $90, going once, going twice,..”
I raised my paddle. “I’ll do $110 bro,” I said as I looked at the old man. I don’t know why I addressed him but I did. Maybe it was the beer talking. Or it could have been that THC oil. That’ll take all the ‘give a fuck’ right out of you. Maybe it was both.
“I got $110 going once, going twice, three times…and sold to number 24.”
The turtle was mine.
The rest of the auction went well. The painting Ann liked came up and she bid on it but it was a hot item and once the bidding got over $180 she gave up. She wasn’t terribly devastated. She really did like the painting of the turtle.
After the auction, Ann wanted to mingle with the crowd for a bit and I obliged. After I got my painting I met her in the crowd. She met me with an embrace. She was a few drinks in and was quite the social butterfly. She introduced me to a man she had just met. His name was Micah and he had just moved here from California. He talked a lot.
Somehow the conversation transitioned to his exploits in the Galapagos Islands and how he wanted to help us plan a trip there. He told us he would plan our hotel accommodations and help us with our itinerary. He wrote down his email and handed it to me. I thanked him and turned for the door.
“Are you ready my love,” I asked reaching for Ann’s hand.
“Of course,” she said, taking my hand and leaning against my arm.
We walked across the street to the car. I had Ann in one hand and the painting in the other. I was excited about this turtle. Any domestic additions to the house I could contribute to made me excited. Also, it was a badass painting of a beautiful turtle.
“Thanks for coming tonight babe,” Ann said, smiling at me as she got into the car.
“Anything for you my love. Viva la Resistance.”