A Work of Art Page #2

"A Work of Art" is a short story by Anton Pavlovich Chekhov that explores themes of art, authenticity, and the nature of creativity. The narrative centers around a young artist who, after experiencing a personal crisis, grapples with the definition of true art and the importance of passion and sincerity in creation. Through a conversation between the artist and a patron, Chekhov delves into the tension between commercial success and artistic integrity, ultimately raising questions about what constitutes real art and the potential disconnect between an artist's intentions and public perception. The story reflects Chekhov's characteristic blend of humor and depth, inviting readers to ponder the complexities of artistic expression.

								

wrapped up, was duly carried to Shashkin's. The whole evening the comic
actor's dressing-room was besieged by men coming to admire the present;
the dressing-room was filled with the hum of enthusiasm and laughter
like the neighing of horses. If one of the actresses approached the door
and asked: "May I come in?" the comedian's husky voice was heard at
once: "No, no, my dear, I am not dressed!"

After the performance the comedian shrugged his shoulders, flung up his
hands and said: "Well what am I to do with the horrid thing? Why, I live
in a private flat! Actresses come and see me! It's not a photograph that
you can put in a drawer!"

"You had better sell it, sir," the hairdresser who was disrobing the
actor advised him. "There's an old woman living about here who buys
antique bronzes. Go and enquire for Madame Smirnov . . . everyone knows
her."

The actor followed his advice. . . . Two days later the doctor was
sitting in his consulting-room, and with his finger to his brow was
meditating on the acids of the bile. All at once the door opened and
Sasha Smirnov flew into the room. He was smiling, beaming, and his whole
figure was radiant with happiness. In his hands he held something
wrapped up in newspaper.

"Doctor!" he began breathlessly, "imagine my delight! Happily for you we
have succeeded in picking up the pair to your candelabra! Mamma is so
happy. . . . I am the only son of my mother, you saved my life. . . ."

And Sasha, all of a tremor with gratitude, set the candelabra before the
doctor. The doctor opened his mouth, tried to say something, but said
nothing: he could not speak.
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