“I can’t predict what kind of painting it will turn out to be. I can’t know what style I’ll paint it in until Mariye is actually here and I actually begin. If no good ideas come to me, I might not finish. Or it might be finished, but I might not like it. Or you might not like it. So I’d like to do it spontaneously, not because you commissioned it, or because you suggested I do it.”
A momentary pause, then Menshiki said, probingly, “In other words, if you’re not satisfied with the finished painting it won’t end up mine, under any circumstances. Is that what you’re saying?”
“That’s a possibility. Anyway, I’d like to be the one who decides what to do with the painting. That’s my condition.”
Menshiki gave it some thought before he spoke. “The only thing I can do, I think, is agree. If not accepting that condition means you won’t paint it.”
“I’m sorry about that.”
“So you want to be more free artistically, not bound by the painting being on commission by me, or having any suggestions from me, is that it? Or is the financial aspect the issue?”
“A little bit of both. But what’s really important is that I want to do it all more naturally.”
“Naturally?”
“I want to get rid of any unnatural elements, as much as I can.”
“Meaning…,” Menshiki said. His voice had grown a little hard. “That there’s something unnatural in my asking you to paint Mariye’s portrait?”
It is like trying to use a sieve to hold water, the Commendatore said. No one can ever float something full of holes on water.
I said, “What I mean is, with this painting I’d like to be on an equal footing with you, not in a relationship that’s mixed up with questions of individual interests. I’m sorry if this sounds rude.”
“No, it’s not rude at all. It’s only natural for people to be on an equal footing. Feel free to say anything you’d like to me.”
“In other words, I’d like to paint the portrait of Mariye Akikawa as a spontaneous act, not one that you had a hand in. Unless I do that, I might not come up with any good ideas about how to paint her. That sort of thing might be a shackle, visible or otherwise.”
Menshiki thought about this. “I understand completely,” he finally said. “Let’s forget about it being a commission. And please forget that I mentioned payment. That was me being overeager, I’m afraid. We can revisit the question of what to do with the painting once it’s finished and you show it to me. Of course I’ll honor your desires as the artist above all. But how about the other request I had? Do you remember?”
“About you casually stopping by my studio while Mariye is modeling for me?”
“Correct.”
I thought it over. “I have no problem with that. I’m acquainted with you, you live in the neighborhood, and just happened to drop by while out for a Sunday stroll. And we just chat for a while. That strikes me as completely natural.”
Menshiki seemed relieved. “I’d be very grateful if you’d arrange it. I’ll make sure not to get in the way. So can I plan things so that Mariye comes over to your place this Sunday morning, and you’ll paint her portrait? Actually Mr. Matsushima will act as intermediary and arrange things between you and the Akikawas.”
“That would be fine. Go ahead and set it up. We’ll plan on the two of them coming over on Sunday morning at ten, and Mariye will sit for the portrait. I’ll be sure to finish up by twelve. It’ll take several weeks to finish. Maybe five or six. That’s about the size of it.”
“I’ll be in touch once everything’s set.”
We’d finished discussing all we needed to.
“Ah, yes,” he said, as if suddenly remembering. “I found out a few more things about Tomohiko Amada’s time in Vienna. I told you that the failed assassination attempt he was involved in took place right about the time of the Anschluss, but actually it was in the early fall of 1938. About half a year after the Anschluss, in other words. You know the facts about the Anschluss, right?”
“Not in much detail.”
“On March 12, 1938, the Wehrmacht smashed across the border with Austria, invaded the country, and soon gained control of Vienna. They threatened President Miklas and made him designate Seyss-Inquart, head of the Austrian Nazi Party, as prime minister. Hitler came to Vienna two days later. On April tenth there was a national referendum, a vote on whether Austria should be annexed by Germany. On the surface it was a free, secret ballot, but the Nazis rigged things so any voter would have to be pretty courageous to vote nein. The vote was 99.75 percent ja for the annexation. That’s how Austria as a nation vanished, reduced to being a part of Germany. Have you ever been to Vienna?”
I’d never been out of the country, let alone to Vienna. I’d never even had a passport.
“Vienna’s like no other city in the world,” Menshiki said. “You sense it even after being there for a short time. Vienna’s different from Germany. The air’s different, the people are different. Same with the food and the music. It’s a special place for people to enjoy themselves, to love the arts. But back then Vienna was in total chaos, a brutal storm blowing violently through it. And it was exactly this period of upheaval in Vienna that Tomohiko Amada lived through. The Nazis behaved themselves until the national referendum, but after that they revealed their true, brutal nature. The first thing Hitler did after the Anschluss was build the Mauthausen concentration camp in northern Austria. It took only a few weeks to complete it. Building it was the Nazis’ top priority. In a short space of time, tens of thousands of political prisoners were arrested and shipped off to the camp. Most of those sent to Mauthausen were so-called incorrigible political prisoners or antisocial elements. So their treatment was especially cruel. Lots of people were executed there, or died doing harsh physical labor in the quarries. The label “incorrigible” meant that once you were thrown into that camp, you’d never come out alive. Many anti-Nazi activists weren’t sent to the camp, but were tortured and murdered during interrogation, their fate covered up. The aborted assassination attempt that Tomohiko Amada was involved in took place during this chaotic period following the Anschluss.”
I listened to Menshiki’s story without comment.
“But as I mentioned before, there’s no public record at all of any abortive assassination attempt on any Nazi VIP from the summer to fall of 1938. Which is pretty strange, if you think about it. If such a plot had really existed, Hitler and Goebbels would have spread the news far and wide and used it for political purposes. Like they did with Kristallnacht. You know about Kristallnacht, right?”
“The basic facts, yes,” I said. I’d seen a movie once that dealt with it. “A German embassy official in Paris was shot and killed by an anti-Nazi Jew, and the Nazis used that as an excuse for fomenting anti-Jewish riots throughout Germany. Lots of businesses run by Jews were destroyed, and quite a few people were murdered. The name comes from the way that the glass from the shattered shop windows glittered like crystals.”
“Exactly. That was in November 1938. The German government announced it as spontaneous rioting, when in reality the Nazi government, with Goebbels leading the way, used the assassination to systematically plan this brutality. The assassin, Herschel Grynszpan, carried out the act to protest the cruel treatment of his family as Jews back in Germany. At first he planned to assassinate the German ambassador, but when he couldn’t, he instead shot one of the embassy staff who just happened to be there. Ironically, Vom Rath, the staff member he shot, was under surveillance by authorities for anti-Nazi sympathies. At any rate, if there had been a plot at the time to assassinate a Nazi official in Vienna, a similar campaign would definitely have taken place. They would have used it as an excuse to increase the suppression of anti-Nazi forces. At least, they wouldn’t have quietly covered up the incident.”