Picasso Baby

The two men sat with business suits, but no ties. Their starched, white shirts complimented their jackets, but showed signs of perspiration. The warm, Wilmington, Delaware night in April brought anticipation.

“They’re just some sketches?” Menlo Vye asked, his face brightening.

“Just some sketches?! This is a Picasso,” Detlef Canley said with conviction.

Vye looked at the horns of the bull.

The sketches of the bull became more abstract towards the end. But Vye liked the stylized versions. They were like breathing, snorting, beasts in reality. They looked like they could gore a matador with their sharp horns. The power expressed through some of the drawing elements in charcoal and ink. It seemed to mirror the virility of the artist who drew them. Only a master like Picasso could have so vividly rendered the mighty grace of these glorious beasts with a few lines of charcoal on paper.

“I can get you this NFT for under a hundred thousand dollars,” Canley said. “I know I can. All you have to do is say the figure I said before, and you’ll have this work in your possession. It’s fairly simple.”

“I didn’t even know what it was until I asked you. I had no clue how much work Picasso had put into communicating the terrifying beauty of this animal in motion,” Vye said.

“That’s alright. Money isn't everything; it’s the only thing! What you have to do is get behind yourself, and trust your intellect and reason. You don’t have to know a Manet from a Monet in this business, just that it can sell,” Canley responded.

Vye looked at the deceptively simple strokes on the page. The thing looked like something one would find on cave walls.

The two men ended up battling over the sketches with other members of the auction. The bulls became like tokens to be cashed in by someone worthy of the piece.

“I can get this piece. How much do you say it’s worth?” Vye asked.

“It’s priced at sixty thousand. “It’s authentic, and an original work, not a reproduction or print.”

“These goddamn NFTs. Bless whoever came up with them. Alright. I’m interested. What happens now?”

“The bidding continues like at any other auction. You want to get in, so I would just say an even $80,000. That should make any other bidder squirm,”Canely said.

Later that week, Vye enjoyed what he purchased. The drawings at the price Canely suggested at auction worked for him. “What you want to do is react smartly to the work, and contemplate the simplicity of the representation of forms in the drawing. There’s something you have to see in NFTs. The power they have lets you know you have something special. There’s something especially great about it. Just understand that.” Canley rose and buttoned his jacket.

He brought the sketches to his smartphone, and immediately contacted art houses that produce screenshots that would cover a wall. It took one thousand dollars to adorn his home right in his living room.

“Now what do I do with all of this?”

“You appreciate it while it appreciates. The more time passes, the more money it’s worth just like other works of art. This NFT can’t be copied without your consent since you have the original.”

Vye held a glass of wine in his hand while his wife placed her head on his shoulder. She sipped her own bit of wine. The idea of NFTs intrigued Vye even more. For them to be so accessible and virtually simple to navigate, he revelled in the reality of their greatness.

“We really have all these bull sketches on our wall?” McKayla Vye said.

“Yes. It’s all because of Picasso, baby.”