Art dealer’s routine

The routine of an art dealer is nothing short of a marvel!

Art dealer’s routine

The routine of an art dealer is nothing short of a marvel!

 

Each day, I come face to face with seemingly meaningless canvases, hailed as “genius art,” where world-renowned artists undoubtedly hide behind clever pseudonyms. My days are filled with the task of persuading affluent clients that what appears to be graffiti on a toilet is, in fact, a masterpiece in the making. It’s quite the pleasure to feel like an air merchant, dealing in masterpieces worth millions.

11:00 — I woke up surrounded by canvases and sculptures, as always, in a bed of money. Caught myself thinking that even in my dreams, I’m discussing the latest trends in the art world with a buzzing alarm clock in hand. After all, someone has to urgently decide whether this $10,000 abstract triangle is a breakthrough in art or just a shot in the dark.

12:30 — I had breakfast with crumbs of surrealist painting, calling it a “creative experiment,” and decided it was worth a couple more grand.

14:00 — Met with a client who considers themselves an art connoisseur, but in reality, they only know one phrase — “Abstraction!” I promised to find that “magical moment” for them in the nearest canvas abstraction.

16:00 — I reluctantly attend a meeting with an artist whose brushes are suffering from an existential crisis. I attempt to explain how brainwaves affect the value of his work, as if we’re unraveling the mysteries of the universe.

18:00 — It’s the evening event at the gallery where everyone scrutinizes the paintings as if they hold a hidden treasure. I pour wine and stimulate the guests’ appetites with abstract chunks of cheese.

20:00 — I wrap up the day, pondering what could be more absurd than this world of art. I tally up the day’s profits to determine just how many “genius” pieces one can acquire at an auction if we continue down this peculiar path.

21:00 — I contemplate becoming an artist and crafting a masterpiece from pasta, as it seems there’s more sense in this art than in abstraction.

22:00 — Finally, I hit the hay, drifting off to the melodious chiming of my phone, flooded with offers to purchase “unique” works featuring ordinary stones and thermometers.

23:00 — I tally up the years of my life spent in endless debates about how art is always in the eye of the beholder, while the seller’s wallet remains the true canvas. Perhaps it’s time to start a collection of “masterpieces” in the form of amusing fridge magnets.

P.S. I hope everyone understood that this is sarcasm?:)

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White long hair Woman in black clothes lying on white bedshit mixed with money. On the background wall with cuts of moneys wallpaper.

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