emerged unscathed, however, and backed past her with a grin, paying out one of the pieces of string. He attached this to a pole, which, Louise guessed, represented the missing corner of the room.
‘Come, my dear, come. Ignore Pieter; he was going to play your part and sit for me, but he is no jewel. Today weset the jewel in the crown. Come and sit down. We must make magic, and later I will explain to you the wonders of perspective.’
Louise adopted an approximation of her pose while the Master busied himself behind his canvas. She longed to see what he was doing. Sometimes he held up his paintbrush as if to preserve the angles of what he saw, sometimes he used a thread stretched between his hands. Twice he moved the easel. Then, when he was satisfied with that, he got her to move her chair to the right. ‘No, no, too far.’ Pieter came and knelt behind him. They conferred in whispers. At last he was satisfied.
‘Now, my dear, you may come and look. Careful of the easel!’ he warned, as Louise tipped one of its legs. ‘From now on, even if the canvas is moved, your chair and the easel must stay exactly where they are. I will show you why.’ The Master took her arm and guided her to where he had been kneeling.
‘Here,’ he said. She knelt down and stared at the canvas and tried to decipher what she was seeing. The Master’s crude sketch of her head and body throbbed from the canvas but now it seemed to be encased in a criss-cross of straight lines. She could recognise the network of Pieter’s tiles on the floor, but what were all these lines that appeared to converge on just one point, her right eye?
‘Ouch!’ she said. ‘You’ve stuck a pin in my eye. Why have you done that?’
‘Ah, so you’ve seen it. I hope it doesn’t hurt.’ The Master chuckled. ‘Ja, my child, that is where you will be, therewhere all those lines meet. The pin is where your eye will be, and where all eyes will go.’ He pretended to drop his voice. ‘Pieter is too dumb to understand, of course, you realise .’ Louise looked up. The boy was grinning. The Master went on. ‘Pieter now, he would paint you here, in the middle … but that is not Master Haitink’s way. No, that is too obvious, too like a portrait. I want people’s eyes to be drawn to you, but they must not know why. So I do with you what I did for the beggar at the Begijnhof gate. I put you in my secret place. Let me see if you can guess,’ he chuckled. ‘It is a place that is hidden to the casual eye, a place where all lines go but none are seen.’ He stopped, one eyebrow raised, delighted with himself.
‘It’s a riddle,’ Louise laughed. She could guess, but she wanted him to explain. ‘Tell me.’
‘Look,’ he said, kneeling at the canvas with his back to her, ‘look over my shoulder as I do this. I take my little thread and I stretch it from the pin. See, now it is parallel with Pieter’s tiles – here, and here, and here; now it is following the skirting board, now the windows. These are all lines that appear to stretch away from us; they are the ones that deceive our eyes so that the room appears to exist inside the canvas. When these lines have done their work – as tiles, as skirting boards, or as windows – they stop. But what if we draw them on, where do they go? The answer is here, to our pin.’ He swung the thread from line to line around the pin as he talked. ‘This point is called the vanishing point. The point where all lines go but none are ever seen. That, my dear, is where you will be. Because it is to here that the eye isdrawn, as surely as a dog is to a bone.’
‘Now, my dear, your hand please, you must help me to get up.’ Louise helped him to his feet. She noticed Pieter’s amused expression as the old man dusted his knees. The Master glanced up: ‘Look at him, idling as usual. Come, children, I have work to do.’
Toy Boats
Chapter 10
Weeks passed and Louise was happy. The Master seemed reluctant to start on her
‘Come, my dear, come. Ignore Pieter; he was going to play your part and sit for me, but he is no jewel. Today weset the jewel in the crown. Come and sit down. We must make magic, and later I will explain to you the wonders of perspective.’
Louise adopted an approximation of her pose while the Master busied himself behind his canvas. She longed to see what he was doing. Sometimes he held up his paintbrush as if to preserve the angles of what he saw, sometimes he used a thread stretched between his hands. Twice he moved the easel. Then, when he was satisfied with that, he got her to move her chair to the right. ‘No, no, too far.’ Pieter came and knelt behind him. They conferred in whispers. At last he was satisfied.
‘Now, my dear, you may come and look. Careful of the easel!’ he warned, as Louise tipped one of its legs. ‘From now on, even if the canvas is moved, your chair and the easel must stay exactly where they are. I will show you why.’ The Master took her arm and guided her to where he had been kneeling.
‘Here,’ he said. She knelt down and stared at the canvas and tried to decipher what she was seeing. The Master’s crude sketch of her head and body throbbed from the canvas but now it seemed to be encased in a criss-cross of straight lines. She could recognise the network of Pieter’s tiles on the floor, but what were all these lines that appeared to converge on just one point, her right eye?
‘Ouch!’ she said. ‘You’ve stuck a pin in my eye. Why have you done that?’
‘Ah, so you’ve seen it. I hope it doesn’t hurt.’ The Master chuckled. ‘Ja, my child, that is where you will be, therewhere all those lines meet. The pin is where your eye will be, and where all eyes will go.’ He pretended to drop his voice. ‘Pieter is too dumb to understand, of course, you realise .’ Louise looked up. The boy was grinning. The Master went on. ‘Pieter now, he would paint you here, in the middle … but that is not Master Haitink’s way. No, that is too obvious, too like a portrait. I want people’s eyes to be drawn to you, but they must not know why. So I do with you what I did for the beggar at the Begijnhof gate. I put you in my secret place. Let me see if you can guess,’ he chuckled. ‘It is a place that is hidden to the casual eye, a place where all lines go but none are seen.’ He stopped, one eyebrow raised, delighted with himself.
‘It’s a riddle,’ Louise laughed. She could guess, but she wanted him to explain. ‘Tell me.’
‘Look,’ he said, kneeling at the canvas with his back to her, ‘look over my shoulder as I do this. I take my little thread and I stretch it from the pin. See, now it is parallel with Pieter’s tiles – here, and here, and here; now it is following the skirting board, now the windows. These are all lines that appear to stretch away from us; they are the ones that deceive our eyes so that the room appears to exist inside the canvas. When these lines have done their work – as tiles, as skirting boards, or as windows – they stop. But what if we draw them on, where do they go? The answer is here, to our pin.’ He swung the thread from line to line around the pin as he talked. ‘This point is called the vanishing point. The point where all lines go but none are ever seen. That, my dear, is where you will be. Because it is to here that the eye isdrawn, as surely as a dog is to a bone.’
‘Now, my dear, your hand please, you must help me to get up.’ Louise helped him to his feet. She noticed Pieter’s amused expression as the old man dusted his knees. The Master glanced up: ‘Look at him, idling as usual. Come, children, I have work to do.’
Toy Boats
Chapter 10
Weeks passed and Louise was happy. The Master seemed reluctant to start on her
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