Small Change

When the painter John Sennett finally died after an illness protracted so long that it had come to be regarded as a way of eternal life by his many friends, Cecily and Cob Lake were as startled and as saddened as one can be on those occasions when it is impossible not to observe with some delight that there but for the grace of God go I instead. The Lakes not only attended the church service but even went to the crematorium rites. And Cecily was genuinely gratified that their old pal John had as good a turnout and press coverage at both as anyone on the Ten Best Artists of the Year lists could hope for.

Several months went by and the Lakes received an invitation to attend a secular commemorative meeting of representatives from the various arts: music, theater, dance, even literary friends, as well as those from the plastic arts, were to gather to pay tribute to the dead Sennett. There was plenty of precedent for such a ceremony, for some last show of fraternal solidarity. And everyone showed up. To the audience’s surprise, however, instead of the customary speeches, and music by the Juilliard String Quartet, the Sennetts—the live and the dead—put on what could only be called a sensational spectacular of mixed media attractions. Although—or perhaps because—admission was by invitation only—another shock-value innovation—the hall was jammed full and in certain circles the invitation itself had already become a collector’s item. For 100 of these “invitations” contained a colored, numbered, and signed lithograph as well as a facsimile of the script for the commemorative proceedings written in longhand by John Sennett himself. These had been produced in a limited edition of 105, of which the original and the first five, dated of course prior to Sennett’s death, had been given to the widow.