Chapter 3: An Invitation

Los Angeles, Present day

I’m sitting in my office at Shaolin Studios, where I work as a producer. I am currently working on a movie called Lez Girls. There’s a knock on my office door. I wonder who it could be

“Come in” the door opens and Alice steps into the room. Myself, Alice, Dana, Helena and Shane had stayed together since university. Alice and Dana married about ten years ago and they have a handsome seven year old son called Damon, Shane is still a Casanova and Helena runs her own gallery, which is very successful “Hey Al what’s up” Alice takes something out of her handbag and puts on my desk in front of me. I pick it. A gallery opening in just down the street from Helena’s gallery. The Franklin Jenkins Gallery. The name rings a bell in my head

“I was wondering if you would accompany myself, Dane, Shane and Helena to this gallery opening” Then it occurred to Franklin Jenkins was an old friend of Peggy Peabody’s; she passed on some of the most promising artists to him and he groomed them and displayed their work in his galleries around the world.

“I would love to, thank Peggy for the invite” Alice shakes her head at me and smiles. She sits down in the seat in front of me “Any idea who the artist is?” Alice shakes her head

“Apparently she’s a very famous artist that started off in Europe a few years ago” I listen to Alice both of us unaware that the artist was someone who we thought had abandoned us and especially me “According to Peggy it’s her first ever show in the US since her university days some seventeen, eighteen years ago” I’m impressed by Peggy divulging this information to Alice but then again Alice was Peggy’s personal journalist

“She’s American?” Alice nods at me; an American artist who hadn’t set foot in America for nearly twenty years was something of a novelty and mystery. It was clear to me that whoever this artist was must have a had a very good reason not to come back

“Yeah, no one knows her real name she uses an alias” this piece of information startles me. American female version of Banksey “Portia Beals I think” the name didn’t ring a bell me with “Anyway according to Peggy, she never reveals herself at any of her exhibitions, a woman of mystery” I chuckle at Alice’s comments. Whoever Portia Beals was, I would think her artwork was extraordinary for her to shroud herself in mystery.