I heard from the family grapevine that a distant relation has just put his family in a very awkward position because of his stupidity, lack of judgement and greed. He has been a long supporter of the town museum which held but a handful of historically significant art pieces that have been the pride of this far-away town. He was no donor, nor grand benefactor, he was just a simpleton who the townsfolk would use as pawn for transactions that they couldn’t risk their family names with. For years people would rely on him for logistics and no brainer responsibilities and more often than not he delivered.
A few months ago the local government decided that it was time to clean up a piece of tapestry that was donated to the city by the Spanish government during the colonial period. It was an intricate piece with at least 15 colours against a backdrop of blood red that had deteriorated over time, sequins and gold thread crisscrossing what looked to me like precious stones and other elements I no longer can recall. Dust had gathered on the surface, the tassels had flattened and the striking colours were dulled and faded. Something had to be done.
This was where distant cousin came in. Always eager to earn an extra buck or two, he volunteered for this enormous task (the tapestry was 50 feet by 30 feet, after all), and given his humble but visible stature in the municipality, he was immediately given permission to execute this responsibility.
I have to mention that distant cousin was no MENSA candidate. He was in fact, the opposite. He barely passed high school (while his wife graduated Summa Cum Laude with a Bachelor’s Degree in Physics! go figure!) and supported his family by doing house painting and the occasional jobs the local government folks threw his way. He was neither book nor street smart.
And so this consisted the tragedy that befell this sleepy southern town. On that fateful morning, distant cousin, armed with a pail of water, a hard bristled plastic brush, and a bottle of Tide with bleach started attacking the larger-than-life artwork. He started on the left side of the tapestry, the section where an embroidered scroll held text in Latin that nobody had the foresight to document. He dipped his brush on the sudsy pail, scrubbed and scrubbed and noticed that the delicate fabric much older than he was started unravelling before him and before long both his arms had traces of the dark red fabric. He panicked. It scared him to look at that section where he scrubbed the most but when he finally did, he realized the trouble he was in. At least 3′x3′ of the tapestry was destroyed and in its’ stead is a patchy white section that was an effect of the strong bleach in the cleaning agent.
To the rest of the population, that tapestry was as good as trash. The National Museum was called to evaluate how and how much restoration would cost and the town fell in despair upon hearing that this stupidity will cost them $100,000. It was so well talked about that even the local Parish Priest had mentioned it in his Sunday sermon. As for distant cousin? As we expected, he was mum on the topic, as were the rest of his family members. We only found out about it through another distant relative who is on the committee of trying to salvage the remains of the once beautiful artwork.
I could only shake my head in disbelief after hearing the story. I remember the tapestry so well. I grew up spending holidays in that town and running around the building that housed the small museum. I can honestly feel the sadness and the horor the townsfolk must have felt upon being told what happened and I cannot fathom what propelled distant cousin to employ such perfunctory methods for taking care of this museum piece.
