This is the story about how I came to acquire a limited edition original print from the legendary (and sadly, deceased) Latin American artist Carlos Ortúzar.
I know what you’re thinking, “Who the hell* is Carlos Ortúzar?”
First of all, there is no need to use the h-bomb**. “Heck” would have worked just fine, and would have adequately conveyed the severity of your inquiry.
I get it… You (rightly) want to know who Carlos Ortúzar is.
I’m not one to keep information from people who want information. I’ve always been very forthcoming. Some might say too forthcoming (and truth be told, my forthcoming-ness has oft got me into trouble).
If people ask, I answer (but that’s just me… Honest, open, “real”).
But, before I answer the question at hand (which, I do understand is quite pressing), you might want to ask yourself: “Why am I getting so worked up about this? Why did I feel the need to use the h-bomb** to convey the severity of my inquiry?”
Now that’s a good question (that only you can really answer… but if I might have a stab at an analysis… I’d say that getting worked up about things is a choice. According to a recent article in Psychology Today: “…stress is almost like a dysfunctional badge of honor […] that so many people wear.”
So un-pin that badge, take a Xanax, and let me finish the story of how I came to acquire a limited edition original print from the legendary (and sadly, deceased) Latin American artist Carlos Ortúzar.
It was a sunny Saturday in April. The year was 1999. I remember the day very well because I became a woman that day***, and that’s not the sort of thing one forgets…
My sister and I decided to go to a few yard sales in the Dunbar neighborhood of Vancouver, British Columbia. One of the first stops was a modern, two-story McMansion with a driveway full of tat.
Something caught my eye.
A lone, abstract print leaned against the fence.
Well, I think you might already have an idea about what happened next… I went ahead and acquired that print.
I should note: I didn’t always know it was a limited edition original print from the legendary (and sadly, deceased) Latin American artist Carlos Ortúzar. Way back then (1999) the internet hadn’t really “caught on” so it wasn’t possible to google “Carlos Ortúzar”.
So, I did what any woman would do… I took the print home, put it in a portfolio and promptly forgot about it.
Fast-forward to 2015…
It’s January, and I’m going through my old portfolio from my art school days because January is a wonderful time for reflection. I pull out the lone, abstract print from the portfolio. I looked at the title, the edition, and the name: Carlos Ortúzar.
It all came back to me: Dunbar, the McMansion, acquiring the print (and obviously, becoming a woman***).
And, because the year was 2015 and the internet had now “caught on”, I googled him.
I found out that he was a Latin American artist, born in Santiago, Chile in 1935 and that he died in 1985. I also came across an image of the lone, abstract print I acquired way back when (1999)… and that it was recently featured in an exhibition with Picasso, Man Ray and Lichtenstein.
And that, my friend****, is the story of how I came to acquire a limited edition original print from the legendary (and sadly, deceased) Latin American artist Carlos Ortúzar.
It turns out the print might be worth “no more than a few thousand dollars”, according to a Latin American Art Appraiser from Texas.
* I’m sorry mom. I know you don’t like it when I use curse words in my stories, but I can’t be held responsible for what people think, or say, or do. I’m just trying to live my life, and be as forthcoming as possible.
** Not to be confused with the hydrogen bomb.
*** I turned 20, and went from being a teenage, female person to an adult, female person.
**** I can call you that, right?