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A friend of mine, a developer, decided to do something for the arts. He chose to enforce this enlightened mission because there is simply no other way to do it in a society lacking a sufficiently large enough group of snobs, where even state representatives place their bookshelves out on the balcony. This developer will buy a huge piece of land, about 1,230 acres, and build 5,000 family homes, a very sought after commodity in post-Communist countries with generations of people suffering from concrete block-of-flat trauma. The family homes will be no cheaply constructed monsters; they will be modern, efficient, simple and affordable. However there will be a couple of conditions before buying the house: the buyer will have to acquire a painting by a contemporary artist (included in the price of the house). Condition number two: the painting will have to be hung in the house for a period of at least one year, and the inhabitants will have to learn to live with it. The buyer will be allowed to pick the painting from a catalogue. The developer believes that the inhabitants will, in the end, grow attached to the work of art, and they won’t take it down after twelve months. They won’t be able to return it. This forced, enlightened rationing may, however, result in the completely opposite effect. After a year of frequently unannounced visits by the developer’s employees, the resident will be happy to toss the painting, closing the circle and we’re back at the balcony. Mission Impossible.
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