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“My name is Ta’Nelle, and I’m the sole creator of every piece you see before you tonight. Everything was birthed from the inner depths of my creative source and I’m very happy I’m able to show the world what brilliance looks like in its various stages of life. Please, take a look around, ask questions if you need, and of course purchase anything that speaks to you.”
She hands us a small info sheet with brief descriptions of each piece, and ushers us to where we should begin the artistic journey, as she calls it.
“Well, that was an interesting introduction,” I say in a hushed voice once Ta’Nelle heads back to her place behind the podium.
Asher tries to hide his smile, but fails. “Come on, beautiful, let’s see what brilliance looks like, while finding a piece that speaks to our souls.”
We snicker like a pair of middle schoolers as we make our way through the crowd, occasionally glancing at the info sheet for reference. People mill about the gallery talking in quiet voices and pointing at the different works of art covering the walls.
“Do you see anything you like?” asks Asher.
I take a moment and look around the room again. “I like a lot of the pieces in here, but I think the one in the corner called Winter’s Kiss is my favorite.”
Asher takes my hand and leads me over to the corner. “What you do like about it? It looks like a woman trapped in a snowstorm to me, and there’s not a lot of color in this one compared to some of the other pieces.”
I stare at the painting, trying to find the right words to describe the emotions it calls forth. “It’s a beautiful tragedy to me, a sort of quiet chaos, in a manner of speaking. The woman in the painting is surrounded by snow, and it’s a complete whiteout of color. She’s the only thing there that’s not covered in snow. In fact, she’s completely untouched. She’s in this beautiful setting, but not necessarily a part of it. So, when I look at it, I don’t see her, I see the snow and the purity of it all.”
“Exactly,” says Ta’Nelle coming up behind us. “Most people believe she is the focus of the piece, but in truth she’s the background. The woman, that nameless entity, is merely an accessory to the scene. The main character is the snow and the beauty of the landscape. You did an excellent job breaking down the creative intricacies of this piece. Well done.”
Asher looks at me and then at Ta’Nelle. “We want this one,” he says.
“Excellent choice,” says Ta’Nelle. “I’ll have my assistant come over and take care of the details for you.” She turns on her heels and walks over to a small woman holding a clipboard.
“Did you buy that for your house in the Hills?” I ask. “I don’t think it’s a good idea to mount such an expensive piece in your condo since your stay is only temporary.”
Asher wraps his arms around me and lowers his voice. “I bought it for you. You said it’s your favorite and I want you to have it.”
“Asher, I thought we discussed not giving gifts,” I remind him. “Plus, where am I going to put something so big? Magdalene has enough stuff on the walls to open a gallery of her own.”
He kisses my forehead and stares at me with those hypnotic gray eyes of his.
“You deserve every gift I give you plus a thousand more, remember? You can keep the painting at my place, that way you’ll always have an excuse to come over.”
I shake my head and place a soft kiss on his lips. “You didn’t have to buy a painting for me to come over to your place. You’re enough of a reason.”
Everything Asher does makes me fall for him harder, and I hope this feeling never fades.
“Give me a few moments to handle the payment and arrange a delivery time,” says Asher.
I smile and wait patiently by the front door, giving the gallery one last look. I wonder if being an artist is similar to being a chef, especially since both must reach inside themselves and find that special part that allows them to create. Each dish I create is a carefully crafted masterpiece and I consider it to be a work of art. I should open a gallery showcasing food as art, where people get to taste each exhibit and purchase the recipe of their favorites.
“All right, everything is taken care of, so let’s head back to my place and relax,” he says, holding the door open for me.
“You and I both know that very little relaxing is going to take place,” I whisper playfully.
“You are absolutely right,” he says. “Relaxing is the last thing on my mind right now.”
