Mary Boone
As the Screw Turns
After mailing her fifteen writings with images, my plan was to stop by the gallery with the collected series. I set a time and date as I always do, as otherwise it is hard to motivate oneself to go. Perhaps you cannot appreciate, but the thought of going there after writing all that was rather intimidating. Rejection is hard to get use to.
So I went there on Tuesday the 13th at 11:00.
The front reception desk was empty. This was distressing. Last time I approached her, many years ago, I walked into the back office unannounced and it didn't turn out so well. I was hoping to see the familiar guy, Ron, who was there the first time around, who I knew when I was going to approach Mary on that occasion, and who assured me she was in before I made that trip.
I hoped to talk to him first, to see if he knew whether Mary had read any of my writings, and what her reaction might have been.
But he was not there. No one was.
I left and did a tour of the 57th street galleries and then came back.
Still, no one was there.
I walked around inside the gallery for a while, and when I went to leave the receptionist was there but he wasn't the guy I knew.
I went out into the hallway and flipped a coin. Heads. I went back in.
I told the guy the story and asked if Mary was in. He asked if she was expecting me. I said no.
He was real human about it. Said he understood that I had to do what I had to do, but that walking in on Mary was not the way to go. He said she usually looks at everything that comes in and that if she didn't call she probably wasn't interested.
I asked if it would be okay to leave the collected series for her.
He said he didn't think that was a good idea.
I thanked him and left.
I went to Chelsea where her new gallery is located. Walking there, after having already gone through it once, I felt very at ease. Natural.
My man Ron was there, alone.
I asked if I could talk to him for a second.
He said sure.
I told him about the series I had mailed to the other location, but he said he hadn't heard anything.
He asked me what it was about and I gave him a brief description. He seemed receptive to the concept.
While standing there, I looked around the office and noticed the stuff on the walls. It kind of fell apart in my eyes. It just didn't seem to be all that great to me. It didn't seem so unrealistic that my work should be hanging on those walls. This was a good sign for me. I always feel that stuff happens once you are completely comfortable with the level you are striving for.
I told him this was the second time I was approaching Mary and he said he remembered me from the first time. Bells and whistles went off. "I touched Ron!" I told him he was my man.
We had a nice conversation and I left the series with him. He assured me he would give it to Mary.
I told him to read it too.
I shook his hand and left.
(to be continued)
Tim