Secret Santa

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By Mark D. Crantz
By Mark D. Crantz

I felt left out of Secret Santa when I read the Indy article, “Newly Restored Painting Reveals Early Laguna.” The grandson of an early Laguna homesteader, Allan Barnes Goff, donated a landscape painting done by his grandfather’s good friend William Griffith to the Laguna Art Museum. The painting has been out of public view since 1933, as well as Griffith and Goff, who were both arrested for pouring and gulping a glass of free wine during Prohibition. So I ask, “Who left my name out of the Secret Santa bag of priceless artwork and free wine?”

I don’t know about you, but I never get free artwork from people. Either I don’t know the right people or I’m not in the right place at the right time. I sorely need that unknown rich uncle, who wills me a priceless painting because I’m the only surviving relative and this unknown uncle has been a monk, who took a vow of solitary and doesn’t know anybody else to give good stuff to. Tall odds. Seems like I’m going to have to make something happen on my own. So, I went to see this famous painting now hanging at City Hall and what clues there might be to becoming the next benefact-ee.

It’s titled “Untitled. Aliso Canyon.” What? I’m lost already. Is the painting untitled or is the painting called Aliso Canyon? How could it both? Umm. Oh, wait a minute. I think I get it now. Titled or untitled together creates mystery surrounding the painting. It starts the chatter of, “What if it means this or what if it means that?” It’s the buzz that counts. Just look at what Mona Lisa’s smile did to its price. Which is another painting I did not receive from that reclusive uncle.

I study the painting. It’s a painting of green grass, gold leafed trees, barren mountains and a blue sky. It seems ordinary unless you develop an artist’s third eye. So, I concentrate on creating my third eye. I stare for hours at the picture. I’m asked to leave City Hall. I come back the next day. I’m asked to leave again. On the third day, I get the artist’s third eye. Like my first two eyes, I’m not surprised it needs correction. I visit my optical shop and get special glasses with three lenses. They won’t let me back in to visit the painting because I look deranged with three lenses and might harm the painting. But all is not lost. The painting’s beauty is imprinted in my mind.

It’s what is missing in the painting that makes it priceless. There are no telephone poles. I mentally place imaginary telephone poles in the picture. Then I add birds on the wire. I put in a highway. I add flashing crosswalks. I place cars bumper to bumper. I put a hodge-podge of one-story buildings on either side. The painting is no longer untitled. It’s now revealed to me. It’s titled “133.”

With an artistic flourish, I add in the finishing touch. Viola. The Village Entrance with my Secret Santa entering to give me a priceless bequest.

 

Crantz tells the Indy that his imaginary painting has not been appraised, yet. But his three lens glasses are flying off the shelves.

 

 

 

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