While researching the artist’s background, she had read of his unrequited love for the wife of one of his mentors. She wondered if that was why he left his female figures with such vague and undefined faces. She explained that Rembrandt Bugatti was a shy and almost reclusive young man given to bouts of depression exacerbated by his work as a volunteer medic for the Red Cross in Belgium during the First World War. She concluded by telling them that the troubled young artist had committed suicide in 1916, when he was only thirty-one.
“Even though Rembrandt Bugatti left us only a few hundred sculptures, he has been described as one of the most remarkable and artistically independent sculptors of the early twentieth century. Had he lived and worked longer, who knows how many more we might have to enjoy today.”
Samantha was pleased by the enthusiastic applause. She hoped that the audience had focused on Bugatti’s great talent and not found his personal story too depressing.
Doctor MacKenzie called for another short break before the final Paper that morning. Samantha had hoped to join Alex and Barbara over near the table where the coffee was set out, but so many of the other presenters came up to congratulate her on her Presentation or to ask questions about Bugatti that she did not get the chance.
The next Paper was quite similar to one she had heard when she was at the Sorbonne earlier that year about space as an art form. Professor John Williams, a tall rather gaunt man from the University of Florida, had similar views to that of the young professor who had talked on the same subject in Paris. It was Professor Williams’ view that the interior space should be as aesthetically pleasing as any other piece of art. Samantha knew that the stumbling block for her had been Martin Creed’s Empty Room with Lights on and off that had won the Turner Prize at the Tate some years back. In spite of the accolades, in her view it was yet another art world example of The Emperor’s Clothes. She supposed that it had given her an illogical mindset against seeing space as anything more than an amorphous nothingness that one might fill with beautiful things. Samantha had given quite a bit of thought to what the young lecturer in Paris had said. She had gradually come to agree with him; much of the beauty of an object or a painting is lost unless it is complemented by the space it occupies and vice versa. She was able to listen to Professor Williams somewhat stilted but informative presentation with a much more open mind than she might have had she not had the benefit of Professor Harris’ Paper in Paris.
Lunch was in the same room where they had attended the Reception the previous night. Several tables for four had been strategically placed around the room. It made for a cosy luncheon venue. She noticed that Barbara and Mary had already sat down at one of the tables. She had started in their direction when Alex caught up to her.
“So, Doctor Duncan, another sellout performance. I’m glad that on this occasion I won’t have to follow your act,” he laughed. Samantha just rolled her eyes as they joined the two women.
“I hope I’ll do half as good a job as you two,” Barbara complimented Mary and Samantha. “I really learned a lot from both of your presentations. No doubt practically everyone here will know as much as I do about Toulouse Lautrec.”
“I doubt that,” Samantha said. “We come from such varied art backgrounds. Take that last Paper, for example. Until I heard someone talk on the same topic at another Conference earlier this year, I had never even thought about space as a form of art.”
“I must say it’s something I’ll need to think a bit more about,” Barbara agreed. “But I did find the concept intriguing.”
“Yes,” Mary agreed. “We tend to get caught up in our own little niche. That’s one of the things I most enjoy about these conferences. They open up a whole new way of seeing art. At least for me.”
“Well, I hate to move on from this riveting topic, but what did the rest of you order for lunch?” Alex asked when he saw that the server had just confirmed the orders from the table next to them and was headed their way.
The choice had been between poached salmon, grilled chicken and a vegetarian option. Samantha had selected the fish. When he came to their table he ticked off two salmons and two for the grilled chicken.
“I spoke to Howard last night and he might try and drive down today,” Barbara said. “He thought we might have a little reunion if you’re not busy,” she said as she turned towards Alex.
“I’ve already invited Samantha to dinner at my house tonight,” Alex lied. “Why don’t you and Howard come as well? I’m afraid that it’s only spaghetti, but I can toss a mean salad. Maybe Mary and David can join us?” Samantha noticed that he did not refer to her as Sam in front of the other women, and she was grateful. She preferred Samantha for general consumption.
“That sounds like fun,” Barbara said. “We’ll bring the wine.”
“We’d love to, Mary said. “Unfortunately we promised to baby-sit for our daughter’s little boy so that they could have a night out; but thanks anyhow.”
Alex had not said a word to her about supper that night. Samantha would have to ask him what that was all about when she could catch him on his own.
Barbara’s was the final Paper of the day. It was obvious from the start that she was extremely knowledgeable about her Impressionist and Post-Impressionist artists. As she had mentioned at lunch, practically everyone in the room would already have at least a passing acquaintance with the exciting and provocative images of the rather enigmatic if physically flawed painter and illustrator.
She told them how the aristocratic Lautrec who suffered from a genetic defect that resulted in a form of dwarfism, epitomized Bohemian life in late nineteenth century Paris both in his art and in his own notorious louche lifestyle. She used quite a large number of colour slides to show how he captured not only the art, but the very atmosphere of Paris as a magnet for famous writers, artists, wealthy expats and dilettantes from across the globe. She told them that Lautrec counted Van Gogh, Emile Bernard, Cezanne and a host of other prominent figures among his clique, and how they might be seen scribbling their impressions in some corner café or mingling amongst the patrons at the newly opened Moulin Rouge.
Samantha was intrigued by the painting entitled The Medical Inspection, allegedly depicting the ritual routinely carried out on the famous brothel at the Rue des Moulin Rouge. The two ladies of the night stood with hoisted skirts that exposed the focus of the examination. They appeared no more concerned than if they had been holding out their nails for the manicurist to apply a coat of varnish.
Many represented impressions, real or imaginary from the famous night club where Lautrec spent much of his time. Barbara had slides of two of his most famous, the Quadrille and Two Women Waltzing. The second one reminded Samantha of her Grandmother’s insistence that she and her Cousin Julie attend what she called Social Dancing classes whenever she was over for a visit. Just as on the lecture circuit now, there had always been an excess of girls in the class. While she and her fellow wallflowers took turns acting ‘the lead’, the boys had queued up three deep for the chance to waltz with her pretty cousin.
Samantha loved the colourful posters that revealed Paris life with all its garish excesses. Barbara had told them that as a young boy Lautrec had taken informal lessons from the famous poster painter Rene Princeteau who had been a friend of Lautrec’s father. Samantha could see Princeteau’s influence not only in Lautrec’s Circus poster, which was one of his most famous, but in many of the other slides that Barbara used for her presentation.
“Arguably the most famous of Lautrec’s paintings was that of La Blanchisseuse, or The Laundress,” Barbara said as she put the image up for all to admire and told them that Christie’s had sold it a few years earlier for a record $22 million.
Samantha was no less impressed than the others by Lautrec’s magical use of paint and light. She was glad for the chance to renew her acquaintance with his work and vowed to visit the Toulouse Lautrec Museum if she ever made it back to Southern France.
“Sorry about that,” Alex sa
id as he caught up with her on their way out to the car-park. “I know I’ve put you on the spot. I’ve known Barbara and Howard since we were in grade school together, but I still feel like the odd man out. I rather hoped you wouldn’t mind helping me balance the books a little.”
“Not to worry,” Samantha assured him “My dance card isn’t exactly full. What time?”
___________________
Six
Alex had offered to collect her, but Samantha had insisted that she preferred to get there under her own steam. As she pulled up to the house, she saw that Barbara and Howard’s blue Volvo was already parked in front of the door.
“Sam, I’m glad you made it. That turning can be a bit tricky to see in the dark,” Alex said as he warmly welcomed her. “We’re just having a bit of a chat in the den. Come on in. I don’t believe you’ve met Howard.”
Howard and Barbara looked like the proverbial Jack Spratt and his food loving wife. He was also slightly shorter, but much thinner than Barbara. Once Samantha observed the comfortable way they joked with each other, it was obvious that appearances notwithstanding, they were quite a well-matched couple.
“Thanks, but I’m a bit of a sissy about wine,” Samantha apologised. “I’ll just have water, or juice if you have it?” She said when Howard offered to fill her glass from the bottle of Merlot on the coffee table.
“I’ll join Samantha so she won’t feel the odd one out, but don’t let us stop you” Alex said as he excused himself to get their drinks from the kitchen.
“Barbara says that you really bowled everyone over with your presentation today,” Howard said.
“I don’t know about that, but thanks,” Samantha said. “It’s easy to talk about someone who’s a bit obscure like Bugatti. The real test is when you can hold everyone’s attention when the audience already thinks they know it all,” Samantha laughed. “I’m sure everyone in the room thought they knew everything there was to know about Toulouse Lautrec before Barbara even stepped up to the podium, but once she began her talk, she had us all in the palm of her hand.”
“I hope you’re right,” Barbara said dubiously, but she seemed pleased to hear Samantha say it.
Samantha looked around at the comfortably furnished room. Nearly everything was what she would have described as masculine except for a few of the smaller accessories.
“What an exquisite Tiffany,” Samantha said as her eye fell on the small lamp that stood on top of a slim table beneath a bay window.
“Those two pieces were Peggy’s favourites,” Alex said as he as he came back into the room and handed a flute of orange juice to Samantha and put his down on the coffee table. “I must admit that they’re a bit incongruous in here, but I’ve grown quite fond of them over the years.”
“Well, I can see why,” Samantha said. “They make a lovely setting under the window like that.”
“Yes, I think so, too,” he said.
“Your Paper’s last thing tomorrow, isn’t it?” Barbara asked Alex.
“I’m afraid so,” he said. “I can see it now; all the sins of my youth coming back to haunt me. Remember how we all used to sit on tenterhooks in eighth period counting down the minutes on that big round clock next to the door? We could hardly contain ourselves waiting for the bell to ring.”
“I also remember a few paper airplanes circling over old Miss Pinkney’s head whenever she’d turn her back to write on the blackboard,” Howard said with an impish grin.
“We’ll try to behave better tomorrow,” Barbara teased.
“Samantha, did I mention that it was Barbara who got me my job at the College?”
Alex explained how Barbara had telephoned her old pal Joseph MacKenzie from their Yale undergraduate days and persuaded him that Alex was the perfect candidate for a new post that had opened up in the Fine Arts Department there.
“They were looking for some new blood; what they wanted was an enthusiastic young post graduate, not an old cynic like me,” Alex interjected.
“That’s not true at all,” Barbara insisted. “Joe told me later that Alex had won the select committee over after less than two minutes into his interview. They were thrilled that anyone with his illustrious background would even consider joining their staff here.”
“Well, let’s see how many compliments you throw at me once you taste my spaghetti,” Alex joked. “I hope no one minds, but we’re in the kitchen tonight. I’m not standing on ceremony with my two oldest friends.”
“And what about Samantha?” Barbara said with mock indignation. “Doesn’t she warrant guest treatment?”
“Not a bit of it,” Alex said. “She’s already seen me in my old jeans and Barbour, she probably doesn’t even think I have a dining room,” Alex said with deadpan seriousness.
Samantha told Barbara that she and her friend Annie had stopped in at the Yale campus on their way back to Boston after the conference at Amherst.
“It doesn’t get the press that Harvard does,” Barbara said. “But I wouldn’t trade my time there for ten Harvard degrees.”
“It was lovely,” Samantha agreed. “I just wish we’d had more time to look around.”
“Okay, you name droppers. I’m serving up,” Alex said as he headed back into the kitchen.
“Alex, you have hidden talents,” Barbara said when he sat her bowl of spaghetti in front of her and told everyone to help themselves to the salad and rolls.
“Me and Signor Bertolli,” he laughed. “And before you ask, the salad and dessert are compliments of Food Lion and that gourmet pudding luminary from our childhood, Jello.”
“I love to cook,” Barbara said. “If I hadn’t been an academic I would definitely have given Julia Childs a run for her money.”
“One of these days when you all come to a conference on my side of the Atlantic, you’ll find out just how much of a cheat I am in the culinary arts department,” Samantha laughed. “But this is really good, Alex. Well done.”
They went back into the den after dinner and chatted for about an hour until Howard stood up and announced that it was getting past his bedtime.
“I need to get back too,” Samantha said as she got up to leave.
“I suppose you’re right. After Barbara and Samantha’s performances today, they’ll run me out of town on a rail if I don’t deliver a respectable presentation tomorrow morning,” Alex said.
“You haven’t even told us what your Paper’s on,” Barbara complained.
“It’ll be a surprise,” Alex said as he sorted out their coats and scarfs and ushered them to the door.
He walked everyone out to the drive to say goodnight. He opened Samantha’s door for her and waited while she got herself situated and started the car.
“That was fun, Alex; thanks for including me,” she said.
“It’s so much more relaxing to get together with friends you don’t have to put on any airs and graces with,” Alex said.
Samantha thanked him again and pulled out just behind Barbara and Howard.
***
The first two Papers were interesting enough, but neither speaker had been spectacular. Samantha thought that Annie would have done a much better job on the Renaissance artists than the chap from the University of Chicago. She was pleasantly surprised to see that he had included Botticelli’s Portrait of a Young Woman that she and Annie had seen at the Victoria and Albert. It seemed years ago now, although it had been only a few months before that they had gone to London in search of inspiration for Annie’s last book. His talk was informative enough, but it lacked sparkle. She had never attended one of Annie’s lectures when they had been colleagues at Christ Church, but a few months back when her friend had spoken to the Women’s Institute at Chipping Norton, she had been most impressed. Annie had that certain je ne sais quoi that marked the difference between a passable lecturer and one who really captured the audience’s attention.
A young woman from the University of Texas gave the other Paper. It was on Native American art. Samantha
had had some difficulty understanding her at first, but once she became accustomed to the somewhat drawl of her accent, she rather enjoyed learning about what for her was an entirely new realm of the art world. She remembered that Alex had told her that his son was an Archaeologist specializing in Native American Artefacts. She wondered whether his work overlapped with some of the points she had brought out.
When Doctor MacKenzie announced a short break before the final Paper, Samantha sought Barbara out. She had seen Alex go up to the lectern, presumably to make certain that the power-point facility was working properly. She was curious as to what his mysterious topic could be.
“That was great fun last night,” Samantha said. “I’m so glad I got to meet Howard. I enjoyed watching you three talk about your school days.”
“I hope we didn’t bore you with all of that ‘remember when’ stuff.”
“Not at all,” Samantha assured her.
“You can just be yourself when you’re around people you’ve known forever,” Barbara said.
“The only person I’m still in touch with from my childhood is my Cousin Julie and she lives practically on the other side of the world from me. She’s out in Northern California,” Samantha said. “There’s my sister, of course, but she’s a lot younger. I don’t suppose that we actually grew up together.”
“Oops, the boss wants us,” Barbara said when the Chairman asked them to go back in for the final Paper of the Conference.
He began by introducing Alex and telling them about his background. He told them how Alex had had an outstanding career in the Diplomatic Service before he returned to his first love, Fine Arts. He explained that Alex had gotten his Bachelor’s and MFA from right there at William and Mary, but that he had then gone on to Stanford to study political science and history.
Dancing at the Savoy: A Samantha Duncan Mystery (Samantha Duncan Mysteries Book 9) Page 6
