7.Art_for_Heart’s_Sake.doc

7. Art for Hearts SakeAfter Rube GoldbergTEXTKeith Koppel, private duty nurse to the extraordinarily wealthy Collis P. Ellsworth, was glad to leave his patients room to answer the door. He had had a tiring morning trying to get Ellsworth to cooperate in his own recovery. As soon as Koppel discovered that the caller was Ellsworths doctor, he began to complain.“I cant do a thing with him,” he told Dr.Caswell. “He wont take his juice. He doesnt want me to read to him. He hates listening to the radio or watching TV. He doesnt like anything.”Actually, he did like something: his business. The problem was that while he was still a fabulously wealthy man, he had recently begun to make big mistakes. He insisted on buying companies at very high prices, only to watch them fail or go bankrupt.Ellsworth was in pretty good shape for a 76-year-old , but his business failures were ruinous to his health. He had suffered his last. Heart attack after his disastrous purchase of a small railroad in Iowa. The health problem he suffered before that came about because of excitement over the failure of a chain of grocery stores, stores which he had purchases had to be liquidated at a great sacrifice to both his pocketbook and his health. They were beginning to have serious effects.Dr. Caswell had done his homework, however. He realized that he needed to interest the old man in something which would take his mind off his problem and redirect his energies. His answer was art. The doctor entered his patients room.“I hear that you havent been obeying orders,” the doctor said.“Whos giving me orders at my time of life?”The doctor drew up his chair and sat down close to the old man.“Ive got a suggestion for you,” he said quietly.Old Ellsworth looked suspiciously over his eyeglasses. “What is it, more medicine, more automobile rides, more foolishness to keep me away form my office?“How would you like to take up art?” The doctor had his stethoscope ready in case the suddenness of the suggestion proved too much for the patients heart.But the old mans answer was a strong “foolishness!”I dont mean seriously,” said the doctor, relieved that nothing had happened. “Just play around with chald and crayons. Itll be fun.”But after several more scowls, which were met with gentle persuasion by the wise doctor, Ellsworth gave in. he would, at least, try it for a while.Caswell went to his friend Judson Livingston, head of the Atlantic Art Institute, and explained the situation. Livingston introduced Frank Swain. Swain was an 18-year-old art student, quite good; who needed money to continue his education. He would tutor Ellsworth one afternoon a week for ten dollars an hour.Their first lesson was on the next afternoon. It was less than an overwhelming success. Swain began by arranging some paper and crayons on the table.“Lets try to draw that vase over there,” he suggested.“What for?” Its only a bowl with some blue stains on it. Or are they green?”“Try it, Mr. Ellsworth, please.”“Umph!” The old man took a piece of crayon in a shaky hand and drew several lines. He drew several more and then connected these crudely. “There it is, young man,” he said with a tone of satisfaction. “Such foolishness!”Frank Swain was patient. He needed the ten dollars. “If you want to draw, you will have to look at what youre drawing, sir.”Ellsworth looked. “Gosh, its rather pretty. I never noticed it before.”Koppel came in with the announcement that his patient had done enough for the first lesson.“Oh, its pineapple juice again,” Ellsworth said. Swain left, not sure if he would be invited back.When the art student came the following week, there was a drawing on the table that had a slight resemblance to a vase. The wrinkles deepened at the corners of the old gentlemans eyes as he asked. “Well, what do you think of it?”“Not bad, sir,” answered Swain. “But its not quite straight.”“Gosh,” old Ellsworth smiled, “I see. The halves dont match.”He added a few lines with a shaking hand and colored the open spaces blue, like a child playing with a picture book. Then he looked towards the door. “Listen, young man,” he whispered, “I want to ask you something before old Pineapple Juice comes back.”“Yes, sir,” answered Swain politely.“I was thinking- do you have the time to come twice a week, or perhaps three times?”As the weeks went by, Swains visits grew more frequent. When Dr. Caswell called, Ellsworth would talk about the graceful lines of the chimney or the rich variety of color in a bowl of fruit.The treatment was working perfectly. No more trips downtown to his office for the purpose of buying some business that was to fail later. No more crazy financial plans to try the strength of his tired old heart. Art was a complete cure for him.The doctor thought it safe to allow Ellsworth to visit the Metropolitan Museum, the Museum of Modern Art, and other exhibitions with Swain. An entirely new word opened up its mysteries to him. The old man showed a tremendous curiosity in the art galleries and in the painters who exhibited in them. How were the galleries run? Who selected the pictures for the exhibitions? An idea was forming in is brain.When the late spring began to cover the fields and gardens with color, Ellsworth painted a simply horrible picture which he called “Trees Dressed in White”. Then he made a surprising announcement. He was going to exhibit the picture in the summer show at the Lathrop Gallery.The summer show at the Lathrop Gallery was the biggest art exhibition of the year-in quality, if not in size. The lifetime dream of every important artist in the United States was a prize from this exhibition. Among the paintings of this distinguished group of artists, Ellsworth was now going to place his “Trees Dressed in White”, which resembled a handful of salad dressing thrown violently against the side of a house.“If the newspapers hear about this, everyone in town will be laughing at Mr. Ellsworth. Weve got to stop him,” said Koppel. “No,” warned the doctor. “We cant interfere with him now and take a chance of running down all the good work which we have done.”To the complete surprise of al three- and especially Swain- “Trees Dressed in White” was accepted for the Lathrop show. Not only was Mr. Ellsworth crazy, thought Koppel, but the Lathrop Gallery was crazy, too.Fortunately, the painting was hung in an inconspicuous place, where it did not draw any special notice or comment.During the curse of the exhibition, the old man kept on taking lessons, seldom mentioning his picture. He was unusually cheerful. Every time Swain entered the room, he found Ellsworth laughing to himself. Maybe Koppel was right. The old man was crazy. But it seemed equally strange that the Lathrop committee should encourage his craziness by accepting his picture.Two days before the close of the exhibition, a special messenger brought a long, official-looking envelope to Mr. Ellsworth while Swain, Koppel, and the doctor were in the room. “Read it to me,” said the old man. “My eyes are tired from painting.”It gives the Lathrop Gallery great pleasure to announce that the First Prize of $1000 has been awarded to Collis P. Ellsworth for his painting “Trees Dressed in White”.Swain and Koppel were so surprised that they could not say a word. Dr. Caswell, exercising his professional self-control with a supreme effort, I didnt expect such great news. But, but-well, now, youll have to admit that art is much more satisfying than business.”“Art has nothing to do with it,” said the old man sharply. “I bought the Lathrop Gallery last month.”Art for hearts sake 为了“心脏”而艺术 凯斯科佩尔是富豪科里斯-P- 爱尔斯沃尔思的私人值班护士，听到有人敲门，心中暗喜，他终于可以离开病人房间一会儿了。这一上午，他累得够呛，为了他的康复，他一直在想方设法取得爱尔斯沃尔思的配合。科佩尔看到来访者是爱尔斯沃尔思的医生便抱怨起来。“我拿他一点办法都没有，”他对卡斯维尔医生说。“他不肯喝果汁，不让我给他念书读报。 他讨厌听收音机，讨厌看电视。他什么都不喜欢。“ 其实，他还真有他自己的爱好，那就是他的生意。问题是：虽然他仍是一个令人难以置信的富商，但最近他开始频频出现大错。他坚持以高昴的价格收购许多公司，结果眼睁睁地看着它们一个个经营不利或破产倒闭。 对于一个76岁的老人来说，爱尔斯沃尔思的身体还是很硬朗的，可是他生意上种种不顺对他的身体伤害太大。他最近一次的心脏病复发是因为他在衣阿华州大错特错地收购了一小段铁路。在此之前，他的心脏病复发，是因为几家食品连锁店经营不佳使他精神上受了刺激，这些商店是他在通货膨胀的时候高价购买的。他最近购买的所有公司，商店看来都得清理变卖，这对他的经济利益和身体健康都是一个巨大损害。这几笔生意已经开始产生严重后果了。不过，卡斯维尔医生已经有了准备。他意识到，他需要让这个老头对某个事情产生兴趣，这样才能使他的大脑从他的生意困境中解脱出来，好让他的精力转移到别的地方去。他的方法是艺术。医生于是走进了病人的房间。 “我听说你不听指挥，”医生说。 “我这把年纪，谁还敢对我发号施令？” 医生拖了一张椅子，在老头的床边坐了下来。“我倒有个建议，”他平静地说。老爱尔斯沃尔思从眼镜上方疑惑地看了看医生。“服用更多的药？开车出去多吹吹风？还是让我远离办公室那老一套愚蠢的把戏？” “您对艺术感不感兴趣？”医生准备好听诊器，生怕自己的建议提得太唐突，病人的心脏会受不了。可是老头的回答是一个强劲有力的词：“愚蠢之极！” “我不是认真的，”医生说。什么事也没有发生，医生松了口气。“其实只是摆弄摆弄粉笔和蜡笔，挺好玩的。”经过这位聪明的医生温和的劝说后，爱尔斯沃尔思思昆锁着的眉头终于舒展开来，他作出了让步。至少他可以尝试一下。卡斯维尔拜访了他的朋友朱迪逊- 利文思顿，他是大西洋艺术学院院长。利文思顿向他介绍福兰克- 斯万。斯万是艺术学院的学生，今年18岁，学习很不错，他需要钱完成学业。每周他将辅导爱尔斯沃尔思一个下午，第小时10美元。他们的第一堂课就在次日下午，不算很成功。斯万首先在桌子上放好纸张和蜡笔。“我们来画那边的花瓶，”他建议道。“为什么画那玩意儿？那只不过是一只带由于蓝色一斑点的碗。是绿色斑点吧？”“您试试看，爱尔斯沃尔思先生。” “那好吧！”老头颤着手拿起一只蜡笔，画了几条线。他接着又画了几条，然后胡乱地将它们连接起来。“画好了，年轻人，”他带着满意的口吻说。“真是愚蠢！” 福兰克斯万很耐心，他需要那10美元。先生，您下笔前，得看着您画的实物。“爱尔斯沃尔思看了看。”天啊，蛮好看的嘛。我以前从来没有注意过这只花瓶。“ 科佩尔进来了，宣布他病人的第一课该结束了。 “噢，又是菠萝汁，”爱尔斯沃尔思说。斯万走了，他拿不准老头还会不会再请他回来。 第二周，这位艺术系的学生来的时候，发现桌子上有一张画，已经有点像花瓶了。老先生眯着眼睛问他，“哎，你觉得如何？” “不坏，先生，”斯万答道。“就是线条还不够直。” “天啊，”老爱尔斯沃尔思笑着说，“我懂了，两半不对称。”他用颤抖的手又添了几条线，在空白处涂上了蓝色，俨然像个孩童摆弄着图画书。他向门口看了看。“听着，年轻人，”他压着嗓子说，“我想在老菠萝汁来之前问你一件事。” “您说，先生，”斯万礼貌地答道。 “我在想，你有没有时间一周来我这里两次，或者3 次？” 几个星期过去了，斯万的来访越来越频繁。卡斯维尔医生来看他时，爱尔斯沃尔思总是谈论他所画的烟囱的优美线条或者水果盆上的各种色彩。 治疗效果很