Doug Clark: My art appreciation isn’t happening fast enough

In my latest pathetic attempt to strike it rich, I took the fascinating old oil painting that had been gathering dust in my basement to the fairgrounds for appraisal by art experts.

First, however, I had to make sure my art was completely bundled in a thick tablecloth before leaving the house last Saturday.

That’s because the subject in my oil painting is a very comely and thoroughly naked woman.

“We’ve seen those before,” said one of a trio of ladies seated at the appraisal check-in table. Then they all erupted in cackling laughter while I stood there, clutching my covered canvas, and squirming.

I knew this might be a bad idea.

But these are desperate days when it comes to making a buck, and the grim signs are everywhere:

• My 401(k) is definitely not OK.

• If Mayor Mary gets her way, it’ll be cheaper to water your lawn with Dom Perignon.

• The only difference between Avista and a mafia loan shark is that the mobster sometimes will let you pick which hand you’re about to lose.

But as anybody who’s watched public television’s “Antiques Roadshow” knows, there is still a way to amass a quick fortune.

And that is by scrounging around in your attic or closet and finding some long-forgotten heirloom that, upon appraisal, turns out to be worth more than the Lost Dutchman Mine.

You may recall that I attempted this once before with depressing results. Meaning the frame was judged to be more valuable than the alleged masterpiece it contained.

But I’ve never let hair loss or failure stop me.

Besides, I’ve always been convinced that this second painting really does have something special going on.

Maybe it’s the soft hues. Maybe it’s the artist’s keen sense of perspective.

Or maybe …

All right. All right.

Maybe it’s because the subject is good-looking and buck-nekkid – so sue me.

In my defense, this had all the makings of one of those great trash-to-treasure stories so common to “Roadshow” and the rash of cable programs like it.

See, I bought the painting years ago for about 25 bucks in a collectibles shop. The proprietor knew the painting was worth more. He just couldn’t display it.

“I get a lot of families with kids coming in,” he told me.

So I gave him the cash and carted it home and …

Ran into the same problem.

“Where do you think you’re going to hang that?” asked my lovely wife, Sherry.

Um. Um. “Somewhere down in the basement?”

Right answer.

And that’s where it’s been since the Clinton administration.

Back at the fairgrounds, I filled out a form, paid my five bucks and took a chair to wait my turn.

Spokane’s Northwest Museum of Arts & Culture appraisal days has become a beloved part of the Custer collector shows. The money taken in helps the museum’s Campbell House, which is a very fine cause.

The appraisals are quite popular, too.

The room was practically filled with tense hopefuls like me. It was like we were all waiting to hear the results of some dire medical test.

One man came in with the handle of an ancient sword sticking out of a sack. The woman next to me had learned that a pitcher she once poured Kool-Aid out of was potentially worth hundreds.

Pocket change. I was looking for “retirement-to-Belize” money.

Finally, number 102 was called. My turn.

I took my nudie art up to confront Carol Worthington-Borodin and her husband, David.

These two definitely have their art together.

Carol, in fact, was the one who broke my heart the last go-round.

“She’s a heartbreaker,” agreed David.

David unwrapped my painting. He kept the image away from the crowd, which provoked considerable grumbling from the peanut gallery.

One of the MAC volunteers, a woman of Swedish descent, told me we should charge gawkers $5 a look.

I didn’t want any part of that. If I want to get caught in a scandal, I’ll quit my job and run for office.

After a few moments, David delivered the verdict.

My painting dates to the “stylized” 1930s. And even though it wasn’t signed, he thought it was still worth $400 to $700.

“But what if the nude turns out to be somebody famous, like Hitler’s mistress?” I asked. “Wouldn’t it be worth a lot more then?”

I don’t think Borodin heard me.

Back went my painting into the tablecloth. I suppose I should be ecstatic knowing my nude is worth way more than I paid for her.

But as I said before, my goals were far loftier. And besides, as my old man used to say, “the value of something is only worth what somebody’s willing to pay.”

After locking my painting in the car I made an economic blunder.

I went back to browse around the Custer’s Fall Antique & Collector’s Sale and wound up dropping $225 on this really cool art deco bronze pedestal cigar ashtray. It has this tambourine-playing nude nymph on it, but I swear that’s just coincidence.

One thing is certain. This is no way to whip up a windfall.