life.”
“It’s remarkably realistic,” I ventured, meeting Wren’s gaze and quickly averting my eyes.
“And the shock effect is genuine,” Caleb added. “Not like a lot of stuff people do just for effect. It genuinely surprises.”
“I like the combination of brass and porcelain. The fragile and the enduring,” Wren said, taking it back from Angelica. “They must have been hard to combine.”
Angelica grinned. “It was. God, I’m glad you all like it. I was so nervous, being the first one under the microscope, so to speak.”
“I kept telling her she didn’t need to worry,” Theo said, taking her hand. This was new, their holding hands in front of us all. For several painfully obvious days, they had pretended to be just pals when anyone else was around. “Everyone can see right off how talented you are. Show them the sketches of the heron.”
We had seen the white block on the way in, cleaned and formed but not yet detailed. She gathered us around her easel and drew back the cover page.
“Is it, um …” I asked.
“Dead?” finished Wren.
Angelica traced the neck lightly. The heron was apparently asleep, but in some of her detail sketches we could see the bare patches of feathers carried away, the lack of eyeballs, the fact one of its legs was actually in three separate pieces.
“I want him to look as peaceful as possible,” she explained. “He’ll be large, of course, so I can get all the details right. It was taking up so much of my energy, I had to step back and regroup by finishing the little rose.”
“I do that all the time,” said Brandon. “It’s like, certain projects are so intense we can’t focus on the big picture, as it were. So we have to let it drop for a bit and just take study pics of trees, which is what I do.”
Of all of Brandon’s work I’d glimpsed in the computer lab—he left it on screen a lot when he stepped out to the toilet, it’s not as if I was snooping—every shot had been a tree. Mostly the tallish pine near the main entrance to FireWind.
Happy to get off the subject of her work—did she not find it in the least macabre?—I talked about the way I’d been stuck at home, how this retreat was exactly what I needed to refresh my mind. Everyone had a similar story, except Theo, who was, according to him, merely a funnel of some kind. His inspiration came from outside himself and he was the hand holding the brush. Angelica stroked him from shoulder to elbow as he said this.
Caleb, Lizzy, and I stopped at Wren’s cabin on the way out of Angelica’s.
“Am I the only one who thinks she doesn’t know she’s twisted?” I asked. “I mean, she’s talented as hell, but there was, like, no awareness death and destruction can be disturbing. She could be sculpting bluebirds and rainbows for all she reacts to it.”
“If eight year old boys could buy art, she’d have a big market,” Wren said, scooting over so Caleb could sit on the arm of the sofa next to her.
“Maybe that’s what she’s going for.” He leaned back so his arm was along the back of the sofa, behind Wren and Lizzy and Wren’s bright face. “Of course, I’m not saying anything bad. I don’t want anyone retaliating against me next week.”
Wren grinned up at him. “You have a lot of maggots and decomposition in your compositions?”
“Not so much.”
“Then I’m sure we’ll love it.”
“Ah, you’re just saying that. Make me feel all confident so I’ll be crushed on Tuesday.”
I stood up. “I’d best to get going if I’m going to have anything presentable myself. I haven’t had this tight a deadline in a long while.”
“I’ll walk you out,” Caleb offered, standing. “I forgot to order the groceries after lunch.”
“Give you one simple job,” I muttered.
“Hey, not fair. I’ll get them in time.”
“Barely.”
“Shuddup,” he said, nudging me with his elbow. “See you later, alligators,” he added to Wren and Lizzy.
“Bye,” they
“It’s remarkably realistic,” I ventured, meeting Wren’s gaze and quickly averting my eyes.
“And the shock effect is genuine,” Caleb added. “Not like a lot of stuff people do just for effect. It genuinely surprises.”
“I like the combination of brass and porcelain. The fragile and the enduring,” Wren said, taking it back from Angelica. “They must have been hard to combine.”
Angelica grinned. “It was. God, I’m glad you all like it. I was so nervous, being the first one under the microscope, so to speak.”
“I kept telling her she didn’t need to worry,” Theo said, taking her hand. This was new, their holding hands in front of us all. For several painfully obvious days, they had pretended to be just pals when anyone else was around. “Everyone can see right off how talented you are. Show them the sketches of the heron.”
We had seen the white block on the way in, cleaned and formed but not yet detailed. She gathered us around her easel and drew back the cover page.
“Is it, um …” I asked.
“Dead?” finished Wren.
Angelica traced the neck lightly. The heron was apparently asleep, but in some of her detail sketches we could see the bare patches of feathers carried away, the lack of eyeballs, the fact one of its legs was actually in three separate pieces.
“I want him to look as peaceful as possible,” she explained. “He’ll be large, of course, so I can get all the details right. It was taking up so much of my energy, I had to step back and regroup by finishing the little rose.”
“I do that all the time,” said Brandon. “It’s like, certain projects are so intense we can’t focus on the big picture, as it were. So we have to let it drop for a bit and just take study pics of trees, which is what I do.”
Of all of Brandon’s work I’d glimpsed in the computer lab—he left it on screen a lot when he stepped out to the toilet, it’s not as if I was snooping—every shot had been a tree. Mostly the tallish pine near the main entrance to FireWind.
Happy to get off the subject of her work—did she not find it in the least macabre?—I talked about the way I’d been stuck at home, how this retreat was exactly what I needed to refresh my mind. Everyone had a similar story, except Theo, who was, according to him, merely a funnel of some kind. His inspiration came from outside himself and he was the hand holding the brush. Angelica stroked him from shoulder to elbow as he said this.
Caleb, Lizzy, and I stopped at Wren’s cabin on the way out of Angelica’s.
“Am I the only one who thinks she doesn’t know she’s twisted?” I asked. “I mean, she’s talented as hell, but there was, like, no awareness death and destruction can be disturbing. She could be sculpting bluebirds and rainbows for all she reacts to it.”
“If eight year old boys could buy art, she’d have a big market,” Wren said, scooting over so Caleb could sit on the arm of the sofa next to her.
“Maybe that’s what she’s going for.” He leaned back so his arm was along the back of the sofa, behind Wren and Lizzy and Wren’s bright face. “Of course, I’m not saying anything bad. I don’t want anyone retaliating against me next week.”
Wren grinned up at him. “You have a lot of maggots and decomposition in your compositions?”
“Not so much.”
“Then I’m sure we’ll love it.”
“Ah, you’re just saying that. Make me feel all confident so I’ll be crushed on Tuesday.”
I stood up. “I’d best to get going if I’m going to have anything presentable myself. I haven’t had this tight a deadline in a long while.”
“I’ll walk you out,” Caleb offered, standing. “I forgot to order the groceries after lunch.”
“Give you one simple job,” I muttered.
“Hey, not fair. I’ll get them in time.”
“Barely.”
“Shuddup,” he said, nudging me with his elbow. “See you later, alligators,” he added to Wren and Lizzy.
“Bye,” they
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