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“Damien Hennessey,” he interrupted, offering his hand to the woman along with a flash of his perfect teeth that I wanted to run my tongue along. “Chelsea called me to fill in after Dubois cancelled.” He looked at me. “Where do you need me?”
“You can set up right here in this corner.”
Damien followed me and dropped his stuff. Once we were alone, I turned to him. “I can’t believe you came. I didn’t even get to actually ask you to come on the message.”
“It was obvious where you were going with it. And Jesus, you sounded like you were afraid or something. Why were you so nervous to ask me?”
Because I have a major crush on you.
After getting lost in his eyes for a few seconds, I shrugged. “I don’t know.”
“Anyway, I got here as fast as I could.”
“You have no idea how much this means to me.”
“I think I do. You look like you’re about to cry. You don’t hide your feelings very well.”
He was right. I could barely contain the tears of relief.
“It really means a lot.”
Damien looked around. “So, what do I do?”
“Okay…did you bring all the supplies you need to paint?”
“Yeah. I have everything.”
“Your workshop starts in a half-hour. All you need to do is create something of your choosing, maybe explain a little bit about how you do what you do, your technique, and then they’ll just ask you some questions at the end. You know, stuff like how you got into this…advice if they want to become an artist…things like that.”
“I can handle that.”
“Seriously, I owe you so much for this.”
“You don’t owe me anything.”
“I owe you a toaster, and now I owe you more.”
My director suddenly pulled me away to mingle with some more of the donors, leaving Damien alone to set up and causing me to miss a majority of his workshop. Eyeing him from time to time, I snuck glances as he wore his mask and spray-painted the canvas he’d set up on an easel.
Finally able to break away, I snuck into his workshop in progress. I was standing behind him and unable to see what he’d actually spray-painted, since the easel was now facing out toward his audience during the question and answer portion.
“How did you get into this?” one of the boys asked.
“Well, when I was a teenager, I was going through a particularly tough time after my father died. It started out as graffiti on property that wasn’t mine.” He held out his palms. “Not condoning that or anything.” They all laughed as he continued, “I accidentally discovered I had a real knack for it and found new places to practice, hoping not to get in trouble. I used it as an escape then. But over the years, it’s become so much more than that. Now, I live for creating images and bringing them to life.”
One of the adults raised her hand then asked, “What do you say to young people who want to become artists themselves?”
Damien addressed his answer to the kids. “You have to find a balance. Most people aren’t lucky enough to make a living doing what they love. So, you have to stay in school, find a practical career at first, get some skills to fall back on but always keep doing what you’re passionate about. I made some smart decisions early on that allow me to spend my days creating art now, but that’s only because I worked hard in school. Now, I’m reaping the benefits.”
One of the teenagers, Lucas, raised his hand and said, “I draw, but I don’t show anyone. I guess I’m afraid because once my brother found my drawings and laughed at them. So, I feel like I can’t share that part of myself now.”
“If you’re telling yourself you can’t do something, change the story in your head. Visualize a different outcome. Change the story. That’s the beauty of art, too. You can create your own interpretation of anything. Take a sad or awkward memory, for example, and rewrite the ending. I actually did that with this painting. The real story behind it didn’t go as smoothly.”
Since I had missed his painting segment, I had no idea what he was talking about. Then, I heard one of the teenagers ask, “So, Chelsea didn’t really like your dogs?”
What?
He continued, “Actually, when I first met her, we got off to a rough start. She gave me a bit of an attitude, so I dished it right back. She had this impression that I was this mean person. She came over one day smelling like bacon…”
When everyone started to laugh, Damien said, “I know. Who does that, right? Anyway, the dogs go absolutely nuts over that smell. They got excited and trampled her. She didn’t like it. They’re harmless, but they’re pretty big. So, I couldn’t blame her.” Our eyes met, and he smiled when he realized I was listening to every word. “Anyway, she didn’t realize it, but I was mortified that day.”
