Romance and reverie in Nonchalance

Contributed by the artist currently known as John Pohl from his present exhibit in Montreal.

Nonchalance on the wall of my kiosk/tent, hanging below a painting of a woman confronting a monstrous Donald Trump.

I later covered up Trump and repainted the canvas

Nonchalance is a small oil painting, about six by eight inches, painted on a scrap of canvas that I put into a frame and offered for sale at the Montréal en arts street festival in July 2019.

I thought of a woman embedded in lace, and I’ve never been able to recreate the true colours of this painting on my photo apps, but they are far richer than how they appear on the screen. I remember the painting as being jewel-like from its many coats of glazing mediums. I was experimenting with raw canvas at the time so Nonchalance could even have gone through my baby press, primed or not.

I took it an old guy who worked out of the main floor of his little house in Saint-Hubert. He did traditional frames at good prices, all wrapped in Kraft paper and tape, and ready to hang on a wall. 

I loved this painting almost from the start. I fell in love with the woman whose image I was creating with such economy. She and  I imagine that someday it will replace the Mona Lisa in all the museums. Not in my lifetime, of course, so I will have to rewrite my will to exclude any and all greedy descendants.

The painting hung in the tent kiosk I rented for three days during the street fair. I sold three, two of them to the young woman who returned to buy Nonchalance, and asked for a deal if she bought two.

Her second choice was another favourite, and I started to regret my two for 1.8 deal. She noticed my unease over losing two of my favourite paintings, and offered to exchange the second one for another, and promptly chose the painting I least wanted, again reading my state of mind.

She probably would have given me back the second painting if I suddenly asked for it. She had fallen in love with Nonchalance.

As I carefully wrapped her precious purchase in a plastic bag, she said, not unkindly: “You are a good artist, but a bad businessman.”

She paid by e-transfer, the first time I’d ever used it, so when she asked if I wanted her email address, I said no, thinking I would get it with the e-transfer. But that’s not how it works. She is lost forever to my mailing list.

But my painting lives on with an interesting person who likes it.

I think.

John Pohl's new exhibit began Nov.20 and runs to Nov. 25

Atelier Galerie 2112

2112 Atateken

Montreal, QC