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One is set in a living room, quite bare with a lack of items. There's one table and three people are sitting at it. A man, a woman, and an elderly man. All of them are wearing smiles, looking happy. But on the opposite side, there is a girl in a long, poofy dress. She's looking longingly out the window, and her stance allows me to see her face just enough to know what she's feeling. The girl is sad, not nearly as happy as the others seem to be. She's lonely. Her gaze outside makes me think that if she had the chance, she would run away. My mind starts to build a story for each of them. What is hidden beneath the ordinary faces of adults to make the girl want to run from them? Or maybe there is something on the other side that we can't see, something to make her want to leave and give up her family.
I stand for a long time looking at that painting before Gabe drags me to see more. The next two I find are drawings and are opposite copies of one another. They are set up the same, but done with different colors. They both focus on a couple in the center of the canvas. The couple is holding hands, standing as if they were at the alter about to be married, only they are dressed plainly and are alone. They are surrounded by a semi-circle of trees and birds, butterflies, and even a doe are mixed in the background as well.
The drawing on the left is done in varying shades of black, gray, and white with bursts of color here and there. One of the butterflies is drawn in perfect detail in brown, blue, and yellow. A leaf in each one of the trees is a bright green. A single piece of grass stands out near their feet. The faces of the couple are done in color too, and they are smiling with love. Next, I notice that a gold ring as been drawn on their hands. It's easy to see on the woman's hand, but the color just is noticeable on the man's left hand.
The other one is the complete opposite. It has lots of colors with voids here and there. There are black leaves randomly hanging in the trees. A patch of black grass, a blackbird, a black butterfly, and then, there is the couple's faces. A black oval. These two don't make sense to me, but I have the nagging urge to figure them out.
Why does one highlight random places, their rings, and their faces with color while the other is so colorful, but has those dreary black voids? What was the artist trying to say? What does it all mean? If there is a meaning behind it. In the first one, simple, ordinary things are in color. A blade of grass, the butterfly, leaves, the rings, and their faces. Why those things? And with the other, the black takes up more space in comparison to the color in the first. I think I like the one with bursts of color than one with black tainting the overall feel.
I see hope in the colors against the bland background. There is hope in the couple's faces. With the other, I feel like the blackness is going to grow until it sucks away all the colors completely. There. I've figured it out. One holds promise while the other is beginning to lose the battle.
“What do you see, Ryan?” Gabe asks quietly. We've been standing here too long, I know. I don't think I can explain what I see though. It probably won't make a lot of sense out loud.
“I'm not sure,” I lie before I move us on to the next one.
The more I see, the more I want to see another and then another and another. Honestly, I love them all. I can appreciate some of the sculptures on display, but the paintings, drawings, and photographs lure me in, hypnotizing me. I soak it up, greedy for more. Hours pass as we walk through this place.
Even after we leave and Gabe heads to eat at a modern, cozy restaurant, I'm still thinking about the art, replaying them in my mind, searching for an absolute favorite. One that I can compare to the fire painting. It has to be the drawings. I'm still mulling over those more than any of the others.
“This weekend almost doesn't seem real. Does it feel that way to you too?” I ask after our waiter walks away with our orders.
“What do you mean?” Gabe tilts his head, and I feel his fingers drawing patterns on my knee underneath the table.
“It's been like the most laid-back weekend ever. I guess that's why it feels that way. Or the calm before the storm. Thanksgiving is in two weeks.” I frown at the thought. Things haven't been peachy lately, which means the holidays are going to suck. Maybe I'll just stay here this year.
“Ryan.” He waits until I look up at him, I didn't even realize I was staring at my glass. “We aren't thinking about that stuff today. Tell me which painting was your favorite,” he says to effectively change the subject.
And just like that my mind is lost in all the art we saw today. For some reason, I don't want to tell him that my favorites were the drawings, so our conversation turns into idle chit-chat. Gabe starts telling me some story as we eat, but I barely pay attention. Walking around that museum, seeing all the art, felt so good. This is twice that I've loved coming to a place like this, and I want to come back again and again.
What if every day could be like today? Wouldn't it be so cool to be surrounded by art like that all the time? That would be awesome. As we head back to the hotel, I wonder what other art museums we have in the state. Thoughts like these swirl around my mind as we go back to the hotel and then change for the night.
Gabe retreats into the bathroom, and I sit at the foot of the bed, still thinking. Suddenly, everything clears, and it hits me. I can have days like this all the time. I would love to have a job as a dealer, an art historian, or an appraiser. Something in that area. That's what my major should be. I can get an art degree and do any of those things.
“Ryan,” Gabe interrupts my thoughts, sounding exasperated.
“What?” I question when he walks over and sits next to me, placing a hand on my thigh.
He examines me carefully and says, “I've been trying to get your attention. What are you thinking about? Is everything okay? You've been pretty quiet for the past few hours.”
My heart swells, feeling too large for my chest. There are so many things that I want to tell him, and I'm not sure where to start or if I should tell him everything that's happening in my head right now. With a deep breath, the words flow from my lips, my eyes focused on his.
“Gabe, you've somehow managed to come in and completely change my life. You have reorganized, thrown things away, and unearthed things I didn't even know I had. I found my passion today, and you were the one to lead me to it. For the first time in my life, something seriously appeals to me. It's all thanks to you. I want to major in art. Realizing that, I feel at peace almost, but then again, I feel off kilter. Life for me feels calmer but chaotic at the same time. I don't know what to do about it.”
The words I said about loving Gabe repeat themselves once more. In reality, I probably shouldn't actually do anything, but I feel like I should. Like something has to be done to acknowledge what has happened here. I don't think I've even cussed today. What the hell?
Whew. That felt good.
Gabe reaches over, takes my hand, and silences my inner dialogue. “Nothing.”
“What?”
“You said that you don't know what to do. Nothing. If you're happy, then nothing needs to be done. Leave it alone and let it be.”
Nothing? Is that even possible?
“Don't start thinking, Ryan,” he playfully chides.
