Coromo In New York, parts 1699 - 1702

1699. No, Coromo wanted the Thunderbird simple because it was the only thing available at the time. But we are getting way off the topic which is a gallery in New York City selling Coromo paintings for seven thousand dollars.

1700. But how much is seven thousand dollars to a man living in New York City, a man perhaps whose dream was to have a small gallery in the Village and to sell obscure but intriguing works of art to a discriminating clientele of close friends. A man with ample funds of his own, but with a desire to pay for his expenses out of his income, rather than by selling the stock his grandfather had left him, yet again.

1701. The owner of the gallery in the Village could just have well have opened his gallery in Chelsea, where every other building houses multiple galleries, and in that setting he could have shown a succession of one person shows like all of the others, everything huge, obscure, contradictory and inexplicable. He could have located himself in So-Ho; next to the shoe stores and establishments selling only jeans in the spaces that had once been occupied only by art galleries.

1702. Fifty-Seventh Street was out of the question because he couldn’t afford the time or the parking everyday, let alone the rent, and besides he didn’t know anyone to help him maneuver the difficult real estate market up there. That left him to choose between up-town or the village. But he had loved the village since his college days. Everyone said, “But there are no real galleries down there.” “That is just the point,” he would reply, “I want to be in a small spot where there are no other galleries and selling things no one else is selling.”

Richard Britell