Last month I had the good fortune to spend a full day alone in the National Gallery in London. It houses a very fine collection of Renaissance paintings, including some of my favorites. But I was most interested in seeing Velasquez' The Toilet of Venus, known as the Rokeby Venus, because I had just read Michael Gruber's superbly satisfying novel, The Forgery of Venus.
The story concerns one Chaz Wilmot, an artist whose talent for painting as the Old Masters did is largely scorned in the 21st century. He makes his living as a commercial painter and his life is a wreck.
Two things propel him into a kaleidoscope of shifting perspectives that threaten his sanity while dangling a promise of redemption as well as riches.
Wilmot is offered a commission to restore--in fact, forge--a ruined Tiepolo on the ceiling in the palatial home of an Italian gangster. And, he agrees to participate in trials of a hallucinogenic drug that might hold the key to human creativity.
What unfolds is a remarkable tale of intrigue, deception, suspense, and insights into the nature of reality, time, art and imagination.
It's a whirling dizzy Tilt-O-Wheel of a novel that captivates and challenges, a great read to be sure.
NOTE: I am once again considering ending this blog. Or not. If I continue, it's going to have a complete make-over because it's time. Expect even more intermittant posts for a while.
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