WARHOL DIES
The front page of The New York Times read, “Andy Warhola dies, age 58, after routine gallbladder operation.” The article went on to discuss his career and finally that the cause of death appeared to be a postoperative cardiac arrthymia. Bernard Phillips knew better.
The entire art world was shocked, especially in New York. Warhol was relatively young as artists go, and though he was prolific he still had much to accomplish. Bernard Phillips was interviewed by numerous papers and art magazines around the country for the inside scoop on how Warhol’s death would impact the price of his artwork. This of course, for Bernard, was like getting honey out of the beehive. He loved all the attention and the free money that would come with it.
Bernard told his story about the little pear drawing he had received from Warhol, and how it hung in his office. How this one object had set the course of his life, and the importance of Warhol to not just his collectors but personally. He was shocked and saddened by his passing. He had visited Warhol just days before the routine operation and purchased the bulk of his recent works. Bernard predicted the Warhol market would change dramatically over the next few years and he was fortunate he was still able to offer great works reflecting all the Warhol periods, at least for now.
What Bernard didn’t mention was that he had tripled his inventory of artworks and would increase the paintings’ prices one by one as they sold. He would need to work this thin vein of gold till it played out. The remaining Warhols would be his main source of income, except for the few Basquiats he owned. No more Andy. The money had to last him, because no one wanted a Marsh.
The day after Warhol’s death, Fredrick came to talk to Bernard about when his artworks would move into the front room. But Bernard was one step ahead of his so-called partner. He just hoped he’d always be able to stay there.
“Fredrick,” Bernard remarked blithely, “it seems that you were right. Mr. Warhol won’t be making any more work. Luckily I took you at your word and bought most of Andy’s inventory, which will keep the walls filled, I’m afraid, for at least a year, maybe longer. I would like to thank you for this information. Do let me know if any other artists will stop making art soon as I would also like to purchase their art inventory. I guess we are about done with this conversation, then.”
The fact that Bernard obviously understood what had happened and didn’t seem to give a shit actually scared Fredrick. Bernard Phillips liked Warhol both as an artist and a person, yet didn’t flinch at his death and actually profited nicely on the information. Fredrick understood the significance of what his dealer was capable of. He would not take Bernard Phillips lightly. He also knew Bernard would be very successful in his profession as he was obviously ruthless in business. Fredrick figured he should back off on asking for the front space for now. He didn’t want to end up like Warhol at the hands of his own art dealer. Maybe Bernard and Fredrick were more similar than Fredrick had realized. They both knew ice in the veins was a prerequisite for success, and the goal always justified the means so long as you were clever enough not to get caught. Fredrick retreated to think this all over, while Bernard pressed forward.