Vertical Lines, 2016

I bought the picture in the Spring. I was assured that the Artist was a "name" and that the piece would bring me profit in the future and cachet in the present - 'It's a twofer, Paul!" One of my old friends, one of the few remaining from the old days, first saw it at a drinks party I held that Christmas. "It's marvellous, Paul!", loudly, and then, whispering in a scandalised tone - "You do realise that it's upside down?" For a cold, panicky second I felt like the biggest fool in London and then he laughed extravagantly and punched me on the arm "Got you, you old fraud!". I laughed with him - partly in relief and partly at the pretensions of the world that we, so strangely, found ourselves a part of.

But later that evening, after the guests had gone, I found the catalogue and checked that, yes, the hangers had got it the right way up. Acting on an impulse, I lifted the canvas down and leant it against the wall. And, sitting on the floor in front of it, with an untouched glass of whiskey in my hand, I fell in love with it.