Entry tags:
Find It In Your Art...
Prompt:You go to an art show, find the piece of your dreams, but it's way out of your price range like ever. Find a way to haggle the artist to an acceptable price. (from a friend of mine)
My heels clicked on the polished floor and as I stared around the dimly lit show room, not for the first time, I thought why am I here? While I loved art in all it's forms and fashions this was not my element. Every woman here was dressed to kill in gowns and diamonds, the men in tuxedos, some even in top hats. It was like they just stepped off the pages of Vanity Fair. And then me, in my royal purple cocktail dress and black kitten heels. I signed internally and wished my job hadn't wanted a piece written for this show so I could go home. But, a free ticket is a free ticket.
A waiter passed by and offered me a flute of champagne, which I excepted gratefully. There were groups of people gathered around small, raised tables scattered throughout the middle of the show room, chatting about this and that. I wandered aimlessly around, catching bits and pieces of conversations.
...such an awful piece that one over there...
...did you happen to notice my new pearls...
...I feel as if no one knows what true art is anymore, what with this dreadfully...
While I had to admit that there were a few questionable pieces within the showroom, as I looked at each one individually I tried to figure out what the artist was trying to portray. Every art piece tells a story if you're willing to look for it. Another waiter passed by and took my empty flute and offered a fresh one. Taking a sip, I found there was a second room. This one had no tables, very few occupants, and only about five paintings. I started at the very right and studied for a moment. A sunflower field, a shaft of sunlight, some clouds. Nothing to out of the ordinary but I sensed a sadness from it. Moving on to the next, something caught my eye. The last of the pieces was alone on the far wall, splashes of bright color mixed in the overall muted tone. I was drawn to it immediately.
Forest greens, chocolate brown, and grays dominated the painting. A forest scene, tall dark trunks, green foliage covering the ground. There was one tree trunk, set off to the left hand side and the focal point, that had a single twisting vine wound around the base. Tiny purple and yellow flowers bloomed on the vine, and a single Monarch butterfly was perched on one blossom. I leaned down and read the card underneath.
To Bloom Without Sun
Never had I been so drawn to a single piece. I reached up to touch one of the flowers and caught myself just in time. I stood there stared for a moment before reaching for the tag that dangled off to one side. Yeesh! Yeah that wasn't happening. But I wanted it so badly. It was calling to me like a lost child.
"You seem so entranced." I started and turned around. A young man, who looked almost as out of place as I did was standing behind me, eying the piece over my shoulder.
"I suppose I was." I brushed a stray hair behind my ear, and looked back at the painting. "There's such a lonely feeling, but it's like life. There is always something beautiful if you're willing to look hard, or try, hard enough."
"Well then," He came to stand beside me now. "I couldn't have said it better myself. And I'm the one who painted it."
"It is lovely." I glanced back at the painting with a sense of longing.
"Judging by the look on your face you won't be participating in the auction for it?" I looked up at him and shook my head.
"I'm here to observe for an article over the show, and I don't make this kind of money. Not unless I didn't want to eat for the next several years of my life." I laughed quietly.
"Ah, the life of a starving reporter."
"Or artist."
He laughed at that. "Too true."
I bid him a good night a few minutes later and made my way back to main room to take one final look around before departing. No need to stay for the auction if I didn't intend to bid. Once home I began the rough draft for the article to be published in the next weeks release.
"I am no art extraordinaire, but to however bought the piece entitled 'To Bloom Without Sun', I hope you enjoy it. Had I the ability, I would have bought it myself. I had to chance to meet with the artist and would have tried to knock his price down, but I couldn't find it in my heart to ask, the piece was too lovely..."
That was all I mentioned in the two page article about it, the rest was just fluff to take up space. It was published and I tried my best to put it from my mind after that. It was just a painting after all. Two weeks later, almost a month after the show, there was a large wrapped something leaning against the outside of my cubicle when I showed up to work. There was a note card attached to the outside.
"I found it my 'art'"
My heels clicked on the polished floor and as I stared around the dimly lit show room, not for the first time, I thought why am I here? While I loved art in all it's forms and fashions this was not my element. Every woman here was dressed to kill in gowns and diamonds, the men in tuxedos, some even in top hats. It was like they just stepped off the pages of Vanity Fair. And then me, in my royal purple cocktail dress and black kitten heels. I signed internally and wished my job hadn't wanted a piece written for this show so I could go home. But, a free ticket is a free ticket.
A waiter passed by and offered me a flute of champagne, which I excepted gratefully. There were groups of people gathered around small, raised tables scattered throughout the middle of the show room, chatting about this and that. I wandered aimlessly around, catching bits and pieces of conversations.
...such an awful piece that one over there...
...did you happen to notice my new pearls...
...I feel as if no one knows what true art is anymore, what with this dreadfully...
While I had to admit that there were a few questionable pieces within the showroom, as I looked at each one individually I tried to figure out what the artist was trying to portray. Every art piece tells a story if you're willing to look for it. Another waiter passed by and took my empty flute and offered a fresh one. Taking a sip, I found there was a second room. This one had no tables, very few occupants, and only about five paintings. I started at the very right and studied for a moment. A sunflower field, a shaft of sunlight, some clouds. Nothing to out of the ordinary but I sensed a sadness from it. Moving on to the next, something caught my eye. The last of the pieces was alone on the far wall, splashes of bright color mixed in the overall muted tone. I was drawn to it immediately.
Forest greens, chocolate brown, and grays dominated the painting. A forest scene, tall dark trunks, green foliage covering the ground. There was one tree trunk, set off to the left hand side and the focal point, that had a single twisting vine wound around the base. Tiny purple and yellow flowers bloomed on the vine, and a single Monarch butterfly was perched on one blossom. I leaned down and read the card underneath.
To Bloom Without Sun
Never had I been so drawn to a single piece. I reached up to touch one of the flowers and caught myself just in time. I stood there stared for a moment before reaching for the tag that dangled off to one side. Yeesh! Yeah that wasn't happening. But I wanted it so badly. It was calling to me like a lost child.
"You seem so entranced." I started and turned around. A young man, who looked almost as out of place as I did was standing behind me, eying the piece over my shoulder.
"I suppose I was." I brushed a stray hair behind my ear, and looked back at the painting. "There's such a lonely feeling, but it's like life. There is always something beautiful if you're willing to look hard, or try, hard enough."
"Well then," He came to stand beside me now. "I couldn't have said it better myself. And I'm the one who painted it."
"It is lovely." I glanced back at the painting with a sense of longing.
"Judging by the look on your face you won't be participating in the auction for it?" I looked up at him and shook my head.
"I'm here to observe for an article over the show, and I don't make this kind of money. Not unless I didn't want to eat for the next several years of my life." I laughed quietly.
"Ah, the life of a starving reporter."
"Or artist."
He laughed at that. "Too true."
I bid him a good night a few minutes later and made my way back to main room to take one final look around before departing. No need to stay for the auction if I didn't intend to bid. Once home I began the rough draft for the article to be published in the next weeks release.
"I am no art extraordinaire, but to however bought the piece entitled 'To Bloom Without Sun', I hope you enjoy it. Had I the ability, I would have bought it myself. I had to chance to meet with the artist and would have tried to knock his price down, but I couldn't find it in my heart to ask, the piece was too lovely..."
That was all I mentioned in the two page article about it, the rest was just fluff to take up space. It was published and I tried my best to put it from my mind after that. It was just a painting after all. Two weeks later, almost a month after the show, there was a large wrapped something leaning against the outside of my cubicle when I showed up to work. There was a note card attached to the outside.
"I found it my 'art'"