She didn’t come in looking for art.
She came in three weeks after her mother died, wearing the kind of quiet that grief puts on people, composed on the outside, completely untethered underneath. She walked the space without urgency, without the usual performance of someone trying to look like they know what they’re doing in a gallery. She stopped in front of a painting for a long time. Then she said, almost to herself: I think I need this.
She wasn’t wrong. She did need it. She bought it that afternoon from a bewildered new dealer - me. It was one of my first significant sales. It changed both of us.
This happens online too, just differently.
