AllFreeNovel
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I stare at the picture. The beauty of art is that it's subjective. The imagery seems pretty clear to me but, then again, I painted it. The memories that flood back when I study it take me right back to my mind-frame at that time.
It's a snapshot of my feelings, thoughts, observations on life.
"It means…" My words trail off. "The rich might look down on the poor for being classless or undignified, but it doesn't mean their lives hold no value or happiness. Art is subjective for a reason." I shrug. "It's hard to explain what each painting means to me because once someone buys it, it could take on a whole new meaning for them."
Vince grunts from where he's studying some of the Pop art paintings.
"What does it make you feel?" I ask Jude, who's still studying the same painting.
"What you described," Jude says, standing back to his full height. "That the rich monkey in the suit is miserable, and judging those who are busy making the most out of the little they do have."
"Good, then my point came across." I smile up at him.
"You've got crazy fucking talent," Vince says, pulling out one of the portraits I painted of the guys a few years ago. "Did you make them pause on stage and paint this?" He chuckles.
I laugh. "Why didn't I think of that? No, unfortunately I had to paint that from memory and a picture. Then I made a few artistic interpretations."
It's a painting of Issac and Dexter on stage, rocking out with their guitars strapped to their chests. They look very god-like with the white glow of the lights that surrounds them. The audience stares with rapt fascination. It's a bit of a play on the rock-god stereotype.
"It's realistic as hell," Jude says, studying the brush strokes.
"Thank you," I say with a grin.
"Which ones are you displaying?" Vince asks, putting the picture of Issac and Dexter back where he found it.
"I'm not sure," I muse distractedly while studying some of my older pieces. "She said there's space for eight or possibly ten pieces, depending on the size of each piece. They're mostly grouped by theme, but I think the Surrealism pieces."
"Definitely," Jude agrees. "They're compelling and thought-provoking."
My heart races as I nod my thanks.
"You've got an amazing gift," Vince says, catching my eyes.
My art is a huge part of who I am. Issac and Dexter understand that artistic side of me, but they don't necessarily appreciate art in general the same way I do.
For them, their music is their art. They're hella famous, and way more recognized for their work than I am. But they've always been proud of me. They show up to every show they can. It's hard not to compare my meager success to their level of fame. It's a completely different animal, though.
It's an awesome feeling seeing Jude and Vince appreciate my art, and even identifying some of the meanings behind my paintings. It makes me feel connected to them on an entirely different level.
"Which one of you wants to play my date for tonight?" I ask, eyes bouncing between the two men. "I can't very well have two security guys. It'll draw attention, and unfortunately people around here are already likely to recognize me."
"Walker can be your date," Vince says, frowning.
"Nah, you can do it," Jude says, slicing pineapple on the kitchen island. He had healthy groceries delivered earlier.
"Thanks, guys," I grumble, readjusting myself on the barstool. "I know I'm super chunky these days, but yeah, way to kill my self-esteem."
I let out an awkward laugh.
"Stop," Jude barks, making me jump in my seat.
My eyes widen as my jaw falls open.
"Shit. Sorry, Love," Jude says, dropping the pineapple. "We both want to be your date. We're not fighting to get out of it."
"Exactly," Vince says, frowning at me. He slides up next to me, running a hand over my belly. "You're not chunky. You're baking a human."
"Wanna split it?" I ask, grinning. I was mostly joking. I've got self-esteem issues, but not about my body. My issues are with my designation. "Half the night one of you can be my date, then switch off?"
