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Art Trip
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Art Trip |
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Solstice Son Member
since 2000-09-19
Posts 469 |
(( DISCLAIMER!!!! i have no idea what the specific requirements are in labeling something prose...so if the rest of this doesn't qualify..lemme know...but at any rate..i hope you enjoy  Sol Thus far, the day had been a disapointment. The Museum of Art had proved to be less interesting than I had hoped and now standing before the oversized canvas, painted a dark blue, save for a single white circle in the upper left corner, I truely questioned why I had bothered to come at all. I tilted my head to one side, an odd habit most people who viewed abstract art developed it seemed. A glare from the large floor to ceiling window,off to the right, had hidden the fact that at the bottom of the canvas a broad band of dark grey had been painted. Stepping forward I stood a meter from the painting. Letting it fill my vision, for now I saw something. I looked at the picture, not for what it was, brush strokes and a dark color scheme, but perhaps.... " Do you like what you see?" It was a simple question, spoken by a woman seated at a bench to my right. She was looking at the painting as well. I turned to look at her and was struck by her appearance. She sat upon the bench, one leg over the other. This gave her black, ankle length skirt the chance to part at the slit and reveal her smooth calf up to the back of her knee. Sandled feet had painted toes that matched her fingernails. Her hands were clasped about her knee, arms locked as she sat gazing at the picture. Her dark hair framed a large eyed face, done in cunningly simple make-up. The sunlight shone behind her adding a bit of both luster and shadow to her. I turned back to the picture. " It's...different. At first I thought it was just a dot. But there is more to it than that." I moved backwards to clear her view. Off to her left I stood and stared at the painting, though in all truth, she was the most delightful thing I had seen all day. " What is different about it? What do You see?" She asked without looking at me. From the corner of my eye I could see her pulling at the cuff of her light, blue, sweater, a bit of the knit fabric having caught on a metal bracelet. " At first I thought it was just a white dot on a black canvas. Now, well now it depends on weather or not a man or a woman painted it." I leaned against a pole, which to my surprise was not part of any exhibit, but truely a part of the building, and waited for the question I knew would come. " And what would make the picture different? If a man did it?" There was a hint of a smirk tugging at the corner of her mouth, that much I could tell. I arched an eyebrow at the picture and tilted my head the other way. " Well, in general, men will depict how the world has affected them, women usually potray how they would change their world. not always, there are exceptions, of course, but as far as this one goes, hmmmmmm , what do I see?" I looked at the picture and felt a memory stir, an old one. " I think, that this one, reminds me of a moonlit night. So bright you forget to see the stars, and down below, in a field of winterwheat, two lovers. " The smirk had left her mouth and now her face had turned to look at me. her eyes were clear and bright, almost lit from within they seemed. For a moment, I felt as if my dockers and button down shirt had been stripped away and I was standing there naked. The heat in my cheeks was from the sunlight, well that's what I told myself anyway. " So which is it then? A man or a woman? What kind of artist would paint two lovers and the moon? " Her voice was sweet, but direct. She wasn't flirting. but there was more than idle curiosity at play in her words, her tone, the way her crossed-over foot now kicked back and forth. " Either at this point. the meaning would change depending on which one. If a man, then its a memory, a place he'd like to revisit or never leave again. Perhaps something he lost." I said and for the first time our gazes locked. She held me there even through her next question. Finding the strength to hold hers was a thrilling moment to say the least. " And if the artist is a woman? " Again she tugged at her cuff as I answered. " Then it is how she would have things. Simple, unfettered, just her and the moon and the man she chooses. The moon having more appeal I think to her then most men would. Not an easy woman to love, to be a man around. Men always like to fill up their life with things, but she would have it her way, there is no mistake in that. Now are you going to keep me guessing or do you not know who the artist is? " I stood straight now, hands folded before me, eyes still locked with hers. She turned to the painting. A look of quiet satisfaction on her features.I looked at the painting and if I could replay that moment in time, I would swear I heard her whipser the word " click". " The name is on the plaque beside the painting. Go and see. " Was the reply I remember her saying. I walked the few steps to the plaque and spoke the name out loud. " 'Midnight Love, by Eden Creed.' A woman. Interesting name, for the painting and the artist. Never heard of her before. Is this her only work here?" I asked the woman on the bench and she smiled. It caught me off guard, that bright beaming face. Lit by both the sunlight and that inner fire behind her eyes, it took my next thought from me, my breath as well. " I think this is her first to be shown here. She has had smaller showings in lesser galleries, but this one was produced especially for the Museum. Why do you find her name interesting?" She asked, the directness again was what I caught and as her smile softened I relaxed and found my mind and my voice again. " Eden, is rare, not many parents bestow the name of paradise upon their children. It carries a lot of weight, fruitful, life-giving, and sad. We lost everything in Eden. Creed is unusual as well. A way of living, a standard of faith, a guide for the expirenced and greenhorn alike. The two names together, are striking to say the least. By the way, my name is Darius Geiger." I was dying to know this woman's name. For in truth, a part of me wanted to invite her to dinner, to know her better, to sit in the light of her eyes and drink in her aura for hours. She had been intelligent and friendly. Not in the typical way, and that above all else was refreshing. She stood now, and extended a gentle, strong, hand. The smile was gone and a victorious half smirk played gently upon her lips. " My name is Eden Creed. I am glad that you enjoy my painting." I had taken her hand and was shaking it softly, even as I heard her name, saw the flash of power in her eye, and felt my heart stop. . . ~Which way did They go? How many of Them were there? I MUST find Them!! I AM THEIR LEADER!!~ Author Unknown..well at least to me..:) |
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| © Copyright 2001 Adam M.M. Stevanovic' - All Rights Reserved | |||
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Dusk Treader
Moderator
Senior Member
since 1999-06-18
Posts 1187St. Paul, MN |
Well, this most certainly qualifies as prose. And rather well written prose at that. I enjoyed this piece... I can't really pinpoint why, but you did an excellent job penning this in my opinion. "And every state of mind, left to itself, every shutting up of the creature within the dungeon of its own mind - is, in the end, Hell" - C.S. Lewis |
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Swamp¤Faeryie Member
since 2000-12-04
Posts 393fairyland....of course;) |
hey this was wonderful!! This just the greatest,i love art museums,and your story is so very perfect!! WONDERFUL!!!!! sammi¤ much madness is divinest sense,and much sense the starkest madness~Emily Dickinson |
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Solstice Son Member
since 2000-09-19
Posts 469 |
~ smiles happily ~ Thank you...I wrote this..as a stand alone bit of writing...but found that I couldn't leave it there..so there are nine more after this one...but this one...this one even I enjoy reading..almost as if it were done by another...and after reading your kind words...well even though doesn't appear so..I am speechless...THANK YOU Sol ~Which way did They go? How many of Them were there? I MUST find Them!! I AM THEIR LEADER!!~ Author Unknown..well at least to me..:) |
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