I grew up around mid-century writers and artists who were, to venture a broad generalization, mostly running against the grain of what was expected. To equate the long, thorny, often thankless struggle of making art with the concerns of a financial brokerage firm was going too far. But the offense of Flummery Financial, moreover the astounding inaccuracy of this message made me feel as if my house had been robbed. In ’87 the Beatles “Revolution” was the soundtrack to a Nike ad, and in 1990 the Stones “Brown Sugar,” did the same for Pepsi, so this advertisement wasn’t the first time a collective memory, from which a strand still felt intensely personal, had been stuck onto the side of a product like a wad of gum. The only accuracy is that she will likely need it. A woman, consumed with her creative endeavors, has a good portfolio thanks to Flummery Financial. The implication was that money management and the making of art somehow have something to do with each other. The voice again, 'FLUMMERY FINANCIAL- YOUR VISION IS OUR VISION…'

The music flows along, the voice over intones 'FLUMMERY FINANCIAL…thirty-five thousand strong, in seven nations, looking after your interests worldwide…' The woman has never been happier, the music swells, all of her days have led to this moment, the manatee masterpiece flowing from her fingertips. The music builds, the woman dances gracefully, poking here, smoothing there, in a state of art-making bliss, a diaphanous smile on her face. In the center of the room, unaccompanied by any detritus of sculpting, a large manatee shape yearns towards the skylight. Music with a classical bent plays, as the camera lovingly traces scrubby walls down to the paint splattered floor, where a Pilates toned woman in her fifties wields a sculpting tool. It opens to a rough looking sky light, a loft-y space, as one might have seen in Soho in the seventies, only no grime on the sky light. I saw an advertisement the other night that stuck with me.

Buttonwood Cottage by Rue Matthiessen