the canvas
You are a good fellow, you have a heart of gold, I must not deceive you. You have turned out exactly according to the promise you showed at my studio. When that's the sort of thing that comes from your mouse, my good Mouse, you would do better to leave your printer dyes on Flax's shelves and not make off with canvas paper that can be used by others. Go downstairs, pour yourself a nightcap, get to bed early. In the morning at nine o'clock, go to an office and ask for a job, and leave the Arts to the newsnet supplements.
My good teacher,
said Mouse,
my canvas has already been condemned and it is not a judgment that I am asking for but the reasons for it.
Well, you make it muddy and flat; you see Nature through a mourning veil. Your detail is clumsy and slovenly. Your subject matter is a copy of Rockwell, who made up for his faults only by the virtues that you lack.
As he indicated the picture's deficits, Schinner saw such a profound expression of sadness on Mouse's face that he took him out to dinner at Hamburger Mary's and tried to console him.
the next day
at seven in the morning, Mouse was at his computer, working over the condemned picture. He improved the color fills; he made the corrections suggested by Schinner; he put more detail into the brushes. Then, having had enough of patching up, he took the picture to Ulysses Magus.
Ulysses Magus, a kind of German-Italian-Greek, had three reasons for becoming a miser, and a rich one at that. Originally from Argentina, he was at that time setting up a gallery in Beverly Hills (which apparently seemed to include the gallery's truthful address at 6th and Taft in Santa Monica.) In San Francisco meanwhile, he dealt in second-hand holoactives on Market Street and lived in the clone zone. On the other hand, Mouse, who needed the proceeds from his palette to enable him to go to NatureFresh daily, dauntlessly ate bread and nuts, or bread and milk, or bread and cherries, or bread and cheese, according to the season. Ulysses Magus, to whom Mickey offered his first printout, looked it over for a long time; he gave him one-hundred dollars for it.
With receipts of a hundred dollars a print and expenses of twelve thousand,
said Mouse smiling,
one can get on fast and go far.
Ulysses Magus raised his arms and bit his thumbs, thinking that he might have had the picture for fifty. For some days, Mouse went down to the Castro every morning, hid in the crowd on the sidewalk opposite Magus's shop, and directed his gaze at his picture, which did not attract the attention of the passers-by.
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