Pop Art – A Ghost Story – Fetish

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This is based on a true story about my former colleague, John. Well to be honest, he was actually my former boss. He was the most amazing person, who had a thing about art, well we used to. I really still do. Working together we both had a passion for brilliant art. His obsession which he, over time installed in me, was amazing thing about modern art. The Andy Warhol style Pop Art paintings. John actively avoided anything that used a conventional brush or engraving.

After several year it is now finally time. I really need to get this story off my chest, it has been sitting there like a growing weight on my shoulders. As it all happened a couple of years ago now, and as such, the dust has now properly settled. I believe all the skeletons are out of the cupboard, and I can now properly give justice to the story. As to tell it straight. I believe that it’s a ghost story worth telling.

It all starts in the gallery A2 that we worked in, just off the local high street one Monday morning.

October – Three Years Ago.

“Yes! But I am very sorry, but we just don’t accept 1860’s hand drawn lithographs, however important and historic the mansion house was. You see as a gallery we like to focus on colour and show the pictures of the Pop art era.” John Tenby-Williams nodded as he then listened. His ear squished to the handset as he stroked his greying designer stubbled chin. His spare hand twiddled and stretched white cable which was, having done this over the years now twisted and knotted all the way until it reached the handset on his designer white desk. “Yes, I understand you believe it’s a valuable family heirloom…” his voice more than hinting boredom at the direction of the conversation.

He nodded again and zoned out to the voice on the other side as he opened up his email as a distraction to the phone call that had been going around in circles for the last ten minutes and hummed to himself “Yes of course I am listening…” He lied as he pulled his chair forward and stared at the screen and smiled, “Oh wow, a rare colour triptych!” He mused out loud “Yes, sorry, yes, I know yours is a single black and white picture. Again, I must apologise, anyway maybe we should talk again another day?” He tilted his head and focused again on the screen. “Bye-bye.” He smiled as he focused on the screen as he put the phone down loudly back on the cradle.

He rubbed his chin once more and looked up and across his picture lined gallery “Phoebe have you seen Gerald’s email?” he bellowed across the empty room.

“Err, no, should I have?” the blonde Phoebe Ashbeck, his busty and, if I might be biased and say, rather beautiful company associate called back from behind her desk. Her desk was in the opposite corner of the white walled picture gallery. She blinked her perfectly applied blue mascara laden eyelids a couple of times, then hurriedly clicked her mouse, and closed Twitter and looked across the room at him.

“You will see the email about the stunning triptych from an unknown pop artist, not sure about the theme though?” he again bellowed loudly, projecting his voice across the room as if he was performing at the Globe Theatre.

Phoebe nodded as hummed to herself as she waited for her computer to reopen her inbox. Once the screen had sorted itself out, she studied the details, “Oh, wow, yes, those three cigarette packs, the gold, red and green colours are vibrant, gorgeous, aren’t they, really well done?” She shouted back across the empty gallery.

“Concerned it’s the wrong sort of theme, the woke brigade will go mad, will people complain to us?” He mused.

“They can’t, it’s very of our time period though?” She shouted back “It would fit in here?” They both glanced around the room full of 1960’s and 70’s prints of several household products.

“True, but he is asking 20k though, very expensive?”

“Oh, go on John, you know that someone will love it and you could sell them for twice that in here? Put them on the back wall, you sold that large fluorescent yellow Stabilo Boss. There is now plenty of room!”

“You think Pheebs, are you sure?” His voice came across that he was less than convinced.

Phoebe confidently nodded. “Yeah, John, go for it, it will be easy money, how many prints of that rusty screwdriver did we sell on the lead up for Father’s Day?” She smiled and studied the photo on the screen, before she unminimized her tab, and went back to looking at the latest news on Twitter.

***

“You were so right Phoebe, I know it’s taken us all day to get them safely up, but now they are, they do look just right on that wall. Just as you said they would. I still wouldn’t want to smoke them though!” John chuckled to himself as he mused, and they both took a ceremonial step back from the wall and looked up the three large prints contrasting as they were lit by their individual spotlights against the bright white gallery wall.

The prints were of an unusual topic, they were of Marlboro cigarette packs printed in the style of Andy Warhol, an almost bad take on his ketchup bottles and soup cans, but just three large identical packs but splashed with the red, gold, and green print colouring across them.

“I don’t like to boast, but did you know John, I used to smoke the lights, the almost goldy looking pack when I was in Sixth form.” Phoebe replied wincing as she pointed at the packs.

“Really?”

“Yeah, they were, umm, yes, truly horrible things, so glad I quit.” She hurriedly finished the sentence.

John tutted “You may have mentioned once or twice before… anyway I am so glad they banned smoking them inside, remember back in the day?”

Phoebe shook her head “No John, I don’t…I am too young!” she smiled sweetly as they both took in the prints.

“Lucky you!”

Phoebe bounced in her red heels “I am from the shivering outside in a short miniskirt and no coat because I am in the too cool and sexy brigade.” She grinned, almost fluttering her eyelids once again.

“Silly you!” he tutted as they both in unison tilted their heads as they studied the three large packs on the wall.

“John, do you remember that hand being above the pack of reds in Gerald’s email?” She asked still tilting head whilst taking in the picture.

“Hand?” he stated as his head slowly moved as he turned his eyes slowly looked up to the left to at the pack now with a hand and delicate long presumably female finger now touching to the top of the pack. His mouth dropped with confusion.

“Yes, that one?” She stated pointing.

“Eh, what, right, err, yes, I can see it, it must have been, a painting can’t grow a hand over night, can it?” His head spun so he was looking at Phoebe and away from the painting.

“True, of course, talking of night, good night, John, got to get home!” Phoebe stated as she turned and bustled herself across the room as she headed back to her desk, sighing as she bent her knees as she picked up her black handbag then stood up straightened herself out and headed for the front door.

John waved goodbye as the bell above the door frame rang out and stood there staring at the picture for a good five minutes, before he went back to his desk and sat down, opened his email, clicked on the attachment, and winced. However closely he studied the pictures closely, he zoomed in on it. There was no speckled ‘pop art’ hand above the red pack of cigarettes. Just the three colourful cigarette packs side by side.

***

“Look, as I said the other day, we really don’t take mezzotints, or lithographs of old buildings. You might be better off with the town museum; they might take it?” John questioned with exasperation. “No, I am truly sorry, but doubt they would pay for it, they will complain about budget. Yes, you have a good day too!” He sighed, shook his head, and put the phone back on the cradle blinking in disbelief. He pushed his metallic rimmed glasses up his nose rubbed his fingers against his eyes and sighed.

“Sorry to interrupt you, John, but are you messing about with the new cigarette pack prints, again?” Phoebe enquired as she strode across the room, her heels loudly clacking on the white polished tiled floor. Her arms firmly across under her large chest.

John flicked his blue grey eyes and put his narrow frameless designer glasses back on his nose, “No, what Phoebe?” He wearily shook his head.

“The hand, you know the one that appeared.”

“Yeah?”

“Well, you know it appeared?”

“Yes, Phoebe it ‘appeared’ what’s going on?” John asked worried where this was going.

“Well, that hand. Well, the fingers, err, you know, well, err…”

“Spit it out Pheebs.” John asked with loaded frustration.

“They, the fingers, err, now have a white cigarette between them?”

His mouth and eyes opened wide, making a perfect ‘O’ and he blinked several times, his jaw moved a couple of times, no sound came out. “Pardon?” John eventually said before picked up his takeout Starbucks latte and slurped some down trying to wet his dried throat and work out what she meant.

“As you know John, last night, the hand appeared, and this morning a cigarette has got out of the pack and is now between the fingers, what’s going on John, I am quite scared?” Phoebe practically squealed with nervous energy.

John took a resigned deep breath “I have no idea, to be honest, photograph the picture with your phone, we need to record it and any changes, as no one will believe us. I am not sure I believe myself at that moment or know what is going on. I think it would be better for all of us to cover up the pictures?”

“What John?” Phoebe asked with exasperation.

“I don’t think we, or anyone should look at them?”

“We can’t cover them up, it’s like proper art?” Phoebe questioned.

“Okay, right first I will have to talk to Gerald.”

***

“Good morning, Gerald, yes, I am okay thanks, and many thanks for the email last Monday and of course sending the prints so quickly, they arrived safely, and we have already got up them so thank you again!” John boomed down the phone, trying false positivity whilst nervously twisted his finger in the cable. He stopped and unwound it as he winced as cut off the blood flow to the tip.

“Ah, yes, we have securely installed them, and it has to be said all spot lit up, they look absolutely stunning!” John then bit his bottom lip as he looked across at Phoebe as she nervously paced up and down in front of him. With every length of the small space spinning on her heels before heading back the other way. He nodded enthusiastically as his focus returned to Gerald as he continued talking on the phone.

“As I said absolutely stunning pictures, but we do, err, just one small question, can you tell us any more about the provenance, as they are very, how can we say it, different?” He enquired. “Well, yes, as we are mightily interested in these pictures.”

“Oh, yes, of course, I know it’s often difficult…right yes…okay great, on the back of the red pack, right we will have a look, thank you. Should have spotted it before putting them up!” he nervously glanced at Phoebe before laughing trying to hide his true feelings.

“Great, will speak soon, should catch up for that pint we keep promising, thanks again!” John again cracked an anxious laugh “Bye-bye.” He replied and put the phone down. Sighing loudly.

“Phoebe, remind me after lunch that we must take down the red Marlboro one down and have a look on the back.”

***

Phoebe was busy focusing on her computer screen and got jolted away to look up with a shuffle of feet and a polite cough.

She looked up and grinned “Hi, how can I help?” She asked eyeing up the potentially customer.

“Oh, you can’t, really I just popped in here in my lunch break, I just love looking at the art you have in here.” The young studious looking girl in her company suit in front of her replied.

Phoebe nodded enthusiastically “Oh, they are all great pictures. We love showing the world!” She replied trying to stimulate the positivity.

“Yes, they are, I just wish I could afford them, I also love the triptych with the lit cigarette burning between the fingers and fizzing over the packs. So much energy and vigour!” she grinned.

“Oh, right, yes, right, they are, how do we say it, a bright set aren’t they, we are still trying to find the artist, but they do look good.” She said with a hint of disappointment that they were not gonna buy them. “Unfortunately, we don’t have any prints yet of them.”

“That is really unfortunate, I think they are, amazing, wish I could afford the pictures on my salary!” she grinned. “Thanks again, have a great day!” she smiled and with the bell ringing made her way out of the glass fronted door.

“John, did you hear that, John?” Phoebe called out across the now empty room as the door shut.

“Eh, what?” He now looked up from his computer at little confused.

“The picture has changed again?”

“Now what?” He blinked again trying to work out what she was talking about.

“John, I think we need to take a look.”

“I think we need to take them down!” he muttered under his breath as shook his head as he pushed back his chair and got up from out behind his desk.

***

The two of them stood in front of the brightly lit three prints. Their hands firmly on hips studying the wall taking overly deep breaths and sighing almost in unison. “That smoke wasn’t there this morning!” John finally declared shaking his head in confusion.

“I know, but It’s so artistic and stylish, you can almost smell the smoke in the room?” Phoebe tilted her head and sniffed the air whist still taking in the picture. She looked back at her handbag and tutted at herself.

“That’s all very well, but it wasn’t lit a couple of hours ago, was it?” John exclaimed focusing Phoebe on the picture. “I am really concerned as to what is going on. When we close at five, we will take the red down and have a look on the back, I really don’t know what is going on.”

“It’s just so spectacular.” Phoebe replied tilting her head back taking it all in as she was staring at the picture.

“It is very impressive, but all the same, we need to do something about it.”

“Do what?” Phoebe stated leaning in.

“The prints?”

“Yes John?”

“We need to take them away; I am thinking I should take it home…or probably better to throw them in the bin?”

“But why John? They fit in here, they are perfect?” She pointed for emphasis as the other equally garish and bright pictures around them.

“You actually like them?”

“Yes, they are stunning.”

“Pheebes to be truthful, even as a grown man it’s actually scaring me, I am petrified of what happens next, what happens if it burns the gallery down?”

“John think about it. Its art, the smoke isn’t real?” Phoebe stated with exasperation.

John loudly sighed, “You never know with these things? How do we know?”

“Don’t you find it exciting John?” Phoebe looked over and watched a as nervous sweat bead trickled down his cheek. “Please leave them here, I am desperate to see what happens next?”

He shook his head “Okay, but let’s have a look at the back of the red pack now, as per what Gerald said.” John mused looking at Phoebe with concern etched across his face. She nodded back nervously.

They got their ladder out and gently and carefully lifted the print back off the wall, settling it back to front as to study the back.

They looked across the modern plywood frame trying to discover any details, and as their fingers, and as they then got on their knees, they found near bottom was a printed Avery label sticker practically undecipherable, as it was unfortunately covered in coffee stains.

Phoebe got her nose within inches of the sticker, squinting her eyes to focus. “John the bit that is remaining says ‘ere Hall, 77′” she straightened herself up and looked at John and shrugged her shoulders.

“That could be anywhere Pheebs, here or anywhere in the world?”

She nodded and pouted her red lips as thoughts churned inside her head. “But it means you might be able to work out where it was painted?”

“Pheebs, how many something ‘ere halls are there, there must be literally hundreds in the Sussex or Essex region?”

“Oh, come on John, don’t you like a Google search mission?”

“Hmm, we don’t have time for that, our first mission is to get this print back on the wall. Our second one will be to ignore it and go for a pint as soon as we closed!” he declared sticking his hands in his pockets.

***

“Morning John!” Phoebe stated brightly as she bounded into the gallery.

“Morning!” he grumbled and yawned as he shuffled slowly to his desk.

“Late night, John?” She stifled a laugh as she put her handbag on the floor by her desk.

He nodded as he yawned again, and scratched the back of his head, “Couldn’t sleep, the thoughts of this picture are driving me mad. The whole thing is spinning me right round.”

“I just had a look at it again this morning…” She smiled. “I couldn’t help myself. Its enthralling!”

Fear crossed his face, “Oh, go on…”

“Well, this morning one of the…”

John took a deep breath. “Hang on Pheebs…” he stated, “Maybe not?” he interrupted putting both hands up to emphasise that the conversation between them stopped.

Phoebe wryly smiled “Where was I, ah yes, you see John…

“No Phoebe…please don’t…” John violently shook his head.

Phoebe smiled, “John, well, one of the cigarette packs has now been crushed, it’s still standing, but is all crumpled, the contents have been smoked?” She had continued ignoring him.

“Pardon?” He questioned blinking his eyes with disbelief.

The gold pack, it’s as if the hand has crushed and squished it. It’s as if it’s no longer needed…” she said excitedly.

“Is the…hand…still there?” John stuttered fear across his face.

“No, it vanished!” She shook her head.

John sighed still shaking his head in disbelief, “What the devil is going on with the pictures?”

Phoebe smiled and looked intently at him. “It’s smoking John, the devil is clearly smoking…ooooohh” she slowly waved her hands in the air acting as if she was a ghoul.

“Pheebs, just stop it!” John stated and she stood up straight and stopped messing around instantly.

***

“Okay, I agree, if you drop the mezzotint over, if I have time, I will look at it. Yes, right Tazlemere Hall, nope, sorry, it doesn’t mean anything to me. Like I said, drop it over tomorrow and I will have a look. Thanks again, have a great day. Bye!” John exclaimed and then sighed loudly as he put the phone down.

“Yes! I’ve found it!” Phoebe triumphantly shouted out loud and bounced on her chair.

“Found what?” John dejectedly asked with a hint of fear in his voice.

“Tazlemere Hall!” she exclaimed. “A country house, owned by an eccentric painter and collector!” She grinned.

“Are you confusing things? I was just talking to Eric about a mezzotint print of it?”

“No, nothing about that, but it all makes sense the large house was owned by a William Tenby, that is also really interesting!” she exclaimed.

“Is it? The print right, and why is it interesting?”

“No, the house owner silly, it’s like the same surname as you?”

John nodded and stroked his chin, “Yes, I have got a Tenby in my name, never knew where it came from, my adopted mother would never say!”

“Maybe it’s from there?”

“More likely it isn’t!” he replied sternly shaking his head.

“But we can now say it was owned by William Tenby, maybe he even painted it?”

“Yes, true, but that doesn’t help us with the devil art?” He winced.

“Are you not interested in the surname link?”

John shrugged his shoulders “Why would I be, there is no relationship, it’s a town in Wales!” he grinned. “I always assumed it was where I was conceived, better that Watford Gap services or layby after the Esso petrol station on the A4 or something.” He laughed, trying to lift the mood.

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