live.
“There’s going to be a war over this one, Bastian.” Tara stands beside me with a glass of red wine in her hand. She really is a beautiful woman clad in a long black dress, her signature designer heels, and just enough diamonds to show elegance. “I have several collectors arguing over it. They have asked it go to bid.”
When I turn to her, she has to see the emotion in my eyes. I couldn’t be more grateful, but letting go of this one is going to hurt. “That’s wonderful, Tara.” My voice is small, but I’m certain she heard me.
“This is the one for you, isn’t it?”
Trying to clear my thoughts to focus on what she’s saying, I look away from Kaleidoscope . “I’m sorry?”
“ The Seraphim . That was Sera’s piece. She never wanted to let go of it. It was too close to her. She thought she had priced it not to sell so she wouldn’t have to acknowledge she didn’t want to part with it. Every artist does it at some point in their career; this is your piece.”
“Yes, I guess it is. Somehow in my mind, those images signify my transition. Regaining myself, or trying, grabbing hold of life once more. When I look at parts of it, I see the mess, other parts I feel the sun shining on me again, and that spot”—I point to the one that haunts me—“right there was the moment I almost gave up permanently. I see Sylvie, I see my life past and present, I see Nate, and Sera. I see solitude, depression, happiness, elation, and everything in between. This piece is me . If I could be captured in colors, this is the expression of my life. It will be very hard to let it go.”
She allows me to stand there silently contemplating the work for a few more minutes before pulling me off to hob knob. Finally, I spot Sera. Even from across the room, she’s as breathtaking as always. Her hair sweeps up off her nape into a loose-bun sort of thing on the back of her head, but the dress she’s wearing is sensational. It’s completely backless with the exception of a few crisscrossed pieces of fabric to keep the dress from falling off her thin body. When she turns toward me, I see it’s a very simple, maroon, silk gown. It graces her skin like it’s only there to enhance the beauty she carries naturally. I watch it move all the way down to her toes when I see her sparkly peep-toe shoes.
She wiggles her fingers at me coyly. With a side smile of my own, I invite her to me, an invitation she readily accepts.
“Oh, Bastian, this is wonderful. I didn’t think anyone could do anything to make your paintings any more alluring, but Tara showcases better than anyone I’ve ever known.”
“Did you just get here?” I reach down to take the scarf she has draped over her arm, but she stops me by placing her hand firmly on mine.
“I’ve been a little chilly. I’d like to hold on to it in case I get cold again. I’m sorry I was late. I got held up, but I’m here now. Tara says you have people fighting over several of your paintings and Kaleidoscope ! Did you know they want her to take them to bid? Bastian, that just doesn’t happen.”
“It’s a little overwhelming. I knew about KD, but I didn’t know about any of the others. I’ve tried to talk but not hover around any of the pieces. I’m not sure I could answer questions about inspiration, symbolism, or anything else right now. Mingling away from the art is much safer.” I laugh nervously. I see that look in her eyes again, just briefly, but my instincts tell me something happened today after she left.
Now isn’t the time or place to dive into whatever it is I keep seeing, but I can’t continue to pussyfoot around the subject. There’s torment in her eyes and a smile on her face. That doesn’t work for me.
T ara attempts to get me to make the decisions on sales, but I refuse. “That’s your job, sweetheart. I just put the paint on the canvas.” I stop myself before I swat her ass. It’s so tempting. She’s on edge trying to please everyone,
“There’s going to be a war over this one, Bastian.” Tara stands beside me with a glass of red wine in her hand. She really is a beautiful woman clad in a long black dress, her signature designer heels, and just enough diamonds to show elegance. “I have several collectors arguing over it. They have asked it go to bid.”
When I turn to her, she has to see the emotion in my eyes. I couldn’t be more grateful, but letting go of this one is going to hurt. “That’s wonderful, Tara.” My voice is small, but I’m certain she heard me.
“This is the one for you, isn’t it?”
Trying to clear my thoughts to focus on what she’s saying, I look away from Kaleidoscope . “I’m sorry?”
“ The Seraphim . That was Sera’s piece. She never wanted to let go of it. It was too close to her. She thought she had priced it not to sell so she wouldn’t have to acknowledge she didn’t want to part with it. Every artist does it at some point in their career; this is your piece.”
“Yes, I guess it is. Somehow in my mind, those images signify my transition. Regaining myself, or trying, grabbing hold of life once more. When I look at parts of it, I see the mess, other parts I feel the sun shining on me again, and that spot”—I point to the one that haunts me—“right there was the moment I almost gave up permanently. I see Sylvie, I see my life past and present, I see Nate, and Sera. I see solitude, depression, happiness, elation, and everything in between. This piece is me . If I could be captured in colors, this is the expression of my life. It will be very hard to let it go.”
She allows me to stand there silently contemplating the work for a few more minutes before pulling me off to hob knob. Finally, I spot Sera. Even from across the room, she’s as breathtaking as always. Her hair sweeps up off her nape into a loose-bun sort of thing on the back of her head, but the dress she’s wearing is sensational. It’s completely backless with the exception of a few crisscrossed pieces of fabric to keep the dress from falling off her thin body. When she turns toward me, I see it’s a very simple, maroon, silk gown. It graces her skin like it’s only there to enhance the beauty she carries naturally. I watch it move all the way down to her toes when I see her sparkly peep-toe shoes.
She wiggles her fingers at me coyly. With a side smile of my own, I invite her to me, an invitation she readily accepts.
“Oh, Bastian, this is wonderful. I didn’t think anyone could do anything to make your paintings any more alluring, but Tara showcases better than anyone I’ve ever known.”
“Did you just get here?” I reach down to take the scarf she has draped over her arm, but she stops me by placing her hand firmly on mine.
“I’ve been a little chilly. I’d like to hold on to it in case I get cold again. I’m sorry I was late. I got held up, but I’m here now. Tara says you have people fighting over several of your paintings and Kaleidoscope ! Did you know they want her to take them to bid? Bastian, that just doesn’t happen.”
“It’s a little overwhelming. I knew about KD, but I didn’t know about any of the others. I’ve tried to talk but not hover around any of the pieces. I’m not sure I could answer questions about inspiration, symbolism, or anything else right now. Mingling away from the art is much safer.” I laugh nervously. I see that look in her eyes again, just briefly, but my instincts tell me something happened today after she left.
Now isn’t the time or place to dive into whatever it is I keep seeing, but I can’t continue to pussyfoot around the subject. There’s torment in her eyes and a smile on her face. That doesn’t work for me.
T ara attempts to get me to make the decisions on sales, but I refuse. “That’s your job, sweetheart. I just put the paint on the canvas.” I stop myself before I swat her ass. It’s so tempting. She’s on edge trying to please everyone,
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