He tossed Styrofoam peanuts from a garbage bag into it. From a shelf he picked up a small structure made of wood and placed it in the box.
“What is that?” Ariadne asked.
“It’s a maquette,” he replied.
“A maquette?”
He nodded. “Yes. A model for a sculpture that I’m making.” He looked at her and shrugged. “Nearly all sculptors make them. They’re miniature versions of what you want to make. Like an architect’s model of a building.”
“May I see it?”
“Sure,” he said. He took the maquette out of the box and held it up.
The small three-dimensional structure was about six inches tall, wide, and deep, made of thin wood that had been cut and glued with precision. “It’s unbelievable,” she said. “It must take incredible patience.”
Matt groaned good-naturedly. “It does.”
“So it’s a model of a sculpture that you want to make?”
“Exactly. It’s a model for a piece that I’m working on now. It’s the third step . . . no, the fourth step in the process.”
“So many? What are the others?”
“First, imagining it in my mind’s eye. Second, drawing a two-dimensional model. Then, making the maquette.”
“It’s beautiful,” she said.
“Thanks,” Matt said. “It’s taken a lot of work. I’ve been gluing and regluing and shaving the wood, reshaping it, trying to get it to look the way I imagined it.” He placed it back in the box, tossed a few more peanuts in, then closed the lid. Using a large tape dispenser, he sealed the box in one fluid motion.
“Ready to go?” he asked.
“Yes,” Ariadne said, although she would have liked to explore the studio further.
Matt locked the door behind them, and they returned to the Jeep. He placed the small box in the backseat, then started the engine and backed out of the parking space.
“That was fascinating,” Ariadne said. “I had no idea of what actually goes on in there.”
“You only saw a little bit,” Matt said. “It’s a very busy place. There are experts who teach students, and there’s always more work than they can handle. People send art from all over the world here to have it repaired or restored.”
“So that’s what you’re doing with all of the statues and things I saw in your studio?”
“Yes. Soldering, welding, gluing, carving. You name it. Repairing cracks, making parts to replace missing pieces. All sorts of things.” He drove through the parking lot and around the Clark Institute to the main road, stopping at the red light. A light snow had begun to fall. Matt turned and looked at Ariadne. “So, it’s the weekend. You have big plans for tonight?”
“Well . . . no,” Ariadne confessed.
The light changed, and Matt took a left. “You don’t?” he asked. “I know I’m being nosy, but I—”
“No. It’s okay,” Ariadne said. “I had plans tonight, but they got canceled.”
“So you were looking forward to . . . whatever it was?”
“Yes and no,” she said.
He glanced at her with a puzzled expression. “That makes perfect sense,” he said with a laugh.
“I know it sounds lame,” Ariadne sighed. I might as well tell him the truth, she thought, even if he was almost a stranger. “I was invited out for my birthday, but my date called and canceled.”
“It’s your birthday?” Matt said.
She nodded.
“Then we’ve got to celebrate.” He slowed behind a dump truck loaded with gravel. “What do you say? You can’t go back to the dorm and stay in tonight.”
“Oh, I don’t know. . . .” Ariadne hesitated. “I didn’t mean to get you involved in something that—”
“You didn’t,” he broke in. “I asked, didn’t I? Besides, it gives me a good excuse to go out, too.” He glanced at her and smiled. “See? It’s best all around, isn’t it? So you can’t refuse.”
“I . . .” Ariadne didn’t know what to say, but she did know that she liked the idea of going out with Matt. “Okay,” she said at last.
“Terrific,” Matt said. “Now,
“What is that?” Ariadne asked.
“It’s a maquette,” he replied.
“A maquette?”
He nodded. “Yes. A model for a sculpture that I’m making.” He looked at her and shrugged. “Nearly all sculptors make them. They’re miniature versions of what you want to make. Like an architect’s model of a building.”
“May I see it?”
“Sure,” he said. He took the maquette out of the box and held it up.
The small three-dimensional structure was about six inches tall, wide, and deep, made of thin wood that had been cut and glued with precision. “It’s unbelievable,” she said. “It must take incredible patience.”
Matt groaned good-naturedly. “It does.”
“So it’s a model of a sculpture that you want to make?”
“Exactly. It’s a model for a piece that I’m working on now. It’s the third step . . . no, the fourth step in the process.”
“So many? What are the others?”
“First, imagining it in my mind’s eye. Second, drawing a two-dimensional model. Then, making the maquette.”
“It’s beautiful,” she said.
“Thanks,” Matt said. “It’s taken a lot of work. I’ve been gluing and regluing and shaving the wood, reshaping it, trying to get it to look the way I imagined it.” He placed it back in the box, tossed a few more peanuts in, then closed the lid. Using a large tape dispenser, he sealed the box in one fluid motion.
“Ready to go?” he asked.
“Yes,” Ariadne said, although she would have liked to explore the studio further.
Matt locked the door behind them, and they returned to the Jeep. He placed the small box in the backseat, then started the engine and backed out of the parking space.
“That was fascinating,” Ariadne said. “I had no idea of what actually goes on in there.”
“You only saw a little bit,” Matt said. “It’s a very busy place. There are experts who teach students, and there’s always more work than they can handle. People send art from all over the world here to have it repaired or restored.”
“So that’s what you’re doing with all of the statues and things I saw in your studio?”
“Yes. Soldering, welding, gluing, carving. You name it. Repairing cracks, making parts to replace missing pieces. All sorts of things.” He drove through the parking lot and around the Clark Institute to the main road, stopping at the red light. A light snow had begun to fall. Matt turned and looked at Ariadne. “So, it’s the weekend. You have big plans for tonight?”
“Well . . . no,” Ariadne confessed.
The light changed, and Matt took a left. “You don’t?” he asked. “I know I’m being nosy, but I—”
“No. It’s okay,” Ariadne said. “I had plans tonight, but they got canceled.”
“So you were looking forward to . . . whatever it was?”
“Yes and no,” she said.
He glanced at her with a puzzled expression. “That makes perfect sense,” he said with a laugh.
“I know it sounds lame,” Ariadne sighed. I might as well tell him the truth, she thought, even if he was almost a stranger. “I was invited out for my birthday, but my date called and canceled.”
“It’s your birthday?” Matt said.
She nodded.
“Then we’ve got to celebrate.” He slowed behind a dump truck loaded with gravel. “What do you say? You can’t go back to the dorm and stay in tonight.”
“Oh, I don’t know. . . .” Ariadne hesitated. “I didn’t mean to get you involved in something that—”
“You didn’t,” he broke in. “I asked, didn’t I? Besides, it gives me a good excuse to go out, too.” He glanced at her and smiled. “See? It’s best all around, isn’t it? So you can’t refuse.”
“I . . .” Ariadne didn’t know what to say, but she did know that she liked the idea of going out with Matt. “Okay,” she said at last.
“Terrific,” Matt said. “Now,
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