Well, Not In Television. But I Work Near Television.

How An Art Gallery Looks in the Imagination of Some TV Producer

My job for the next week is to be here at the gallery to let the television crew in and out while they film a scene that takes place in an Art Gallery. You can tell that it’s an Art Gallery because they brought in a bunch of white, ultra-modern furniture and placed it throughout the exhibition spaces in case the patrons need a short rest between paintings.

The paintings are folksy, western images on what appears to be fence boards nailed together. The artist is apparently named Rosa Garcia, a factory worker at the turn of the 19th century, making her perhaps one of the earliest female painters to be recognized in America, though I still don’t think they’re very good. Other than that, I know very little about the actual program and what will be happening once the cameras arrive.

I have heard:

A) There will be a reception scene involving 60 extras.
B) There will be a person smoking a cigarette indoors.
C) There will be a fire.

My task could not be easier—I show up to unlock and then sit at my computer and write, or listen to baseball. They are paying me two and a half times my normal wages to do this—but my contact, the location scout, has managed to make it hard anyway. As far as I can see, he is always on the phone, and in a gigantic hurry, but I don’t think he actually knows how to work his phone. This morning was the third time in which there was a “miscommunication” (his word), where I get a phone call at 6:30 a.m. wondering if I am going to arrive soon, even though I was never, technically speaking, called because he’s full of shit (my words). In his defense, he did say, “That’s my bad,” when I pulled up. Maybe I can get that on my headstone when there is a “miscommunication” about the fire.

In full disclosure, I was against the idea from the start. The location scout approached us a few weeks ago while my boss was away. He told me he worked in television in a way that suggested that he knew I had heard of the medium, and that I would be impressed. I had heard of it, but I wasn’t thrilled about closing down our current show all of a sudden to let a film crew come in and trash the place. And since I am not authorized to make such a deal I told him he would need to speak to my boss who was out of town for a week.

He persisted to call every day to discuss the progress of the deal. Since I could not offer any new information, I figured he would take the hint and wait another few days. Oh, but I have much to learn. Instead, he began calling every day for Hannah. While Hannah is as polite and capable as one could hope for over the phone, she was also a temporary intern. And so, each day I would get a new message from the location scout via Hannah, who would then relay the fact that our boss would be back in a week.

When my boss finally returned we came up with a litany of reasons to turn the show away and I left work pleased that we were not going to compromise ourselves for a little bit of money. The next morning the deal was struck for a large amount of money.

Despite some of the frustrations I have had with one individual, this operation has gone fairly smoothly. My office is at a balcony that overlooks the exhibition space, so I can peek at the goings-on throughout the day. After the crew is gone, I go to inspect their work and the way they have transformed my space.

I guess there’s no point in staying mad about things I can’t control. I admit that I am a little excited to witness the scenes as they are being acted. I even catch myself daydreaming about catching the director’s eye.

“Hey you! The one who obviously doesn’t care about petty crap like haircuts.”

“Me?”

“Yeah! You have a great look, with your dirty jeans and pitiful beard, and…are those argyle socks? Wow! You’ve got style. Have you ever acted before?”

“Yes. I was The Big Bad Wolf in an adaptation of a Grimm novella in the 2nd grade.”

“Now I remember you. Get him in make-up!”

…and so on.