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Anwar showered her with praise, and as she faithfully recorded his kind words in her feedback journal, she grew more confident in her abilities.
She loved her nightly catch-up with Anwar and telling him of all the paintings she and her team had found and acquired. Their conversations delved deep into the meaning behind every brushstroke, every sculpted masterpiece in both the paintings Lucy was creating and the growing collection she had procured for him.
She wondered if the creation ofMaerid al'ahlam. The Gallery of Dreamshad always been the additional purpose of her journey to Anwar’s kingdom. When he had discovered her pregnancy, Anwar had stolen her away from New York to bear his heir but also to leverage off her continued expertise as his private art advisor.
He just didn’t want mefor me, she thought forlornly. She pushed the painful thought aside and turned her thoughts to what she could control.
Known for his passion for art and his unwavering support for women's empowerment,Sheikh Anwar had a burning ambition in his heart - to create a world-class contemporary art museum dedicated solely to women artists. Despite her disappointment, she felt her admiration for him deepening during the many conversations they had where he reinforced the purpose that drove him.
As an avid art collector, Anwar had always been captivated by the artistic expressions of women throughout history. He believed their voices deserved to be heard and celebrated on a grand scale. This vision had been brewing within him for years, but now, with the resources and influence at his fingertips and Lucy beside him, he felt it was time to turn his dream into reality.
Anwar knew that creating such an audacious museum would require meticulous planning and unwavering dedication, and he knew that Lucy had the breadth of contacts to ensure its success. His faith in her was not misplaced.
She began by assembling a team of curators and art historians who shared Anwar’s and Lucy’s passion for procuring works by pioneering women artists.
Next, they embarked on many journeys to select a suitable location. Anwar wanted the museum to symbolize the Kingdom’s commitment to art and gender equality. After careful consideration, together, they chose a prime spot overlooking the sparkling waters of the Arabian Gulf. The museum would have a commanding presence, its architecture blending seamlessly with the surrounding landscape.
Then came the task of curating an exceptional collection of artworks. Anwar agreed with Lucy that showcasing diverse women artists spanning different cultures, backgrounds, and artistic styles was essential. Lucy and her team scoured the globe, seeking hidden gems and collaborating with renowned art institutions to purchase and secure loans for iconic pieces.
In an outstanding coup, they acquired a stained glass window by Tiffany’s greatest female designer.The Garden Landscapewindow was attributed to Tiffany’s leading designer, Agnes Northrop, whose watercolor sketch of the central panel was also acquired for the museum’s collection. The large, vibrant colored panel had been commissioned in 1912 by an American philanthropist, Sarah Cochran, who had channeled her wealth and influence into supporting women’s suffrage.
“This is such a masterpiece,” Lucy told Anwar. “A triple C— conceived, commissioned, and crafted by a woman.”
As well as incorporating the monumental stained-glass window within the museum, the design of the building was to be a work of art in itself, inspired by organic forms and Anwar’s love of orchids.
Anwar envisioned a space that would house extraordinary artworks and serve as a sanctuary for creativity and inspiration. He wanted visitors to feel a sense of awe as they entered as if stepping into the beauty of a flower and a world where women's artistic genius was celebrated and revered.
He wanted it to be contemporary and modern—with a futuristic vibe that blended seamlessly with a reverence for the past. No easy feat. But he knew Tariq’s wife Melanie could meet the challenge better than anyone.
The architecture would incorporate innovative elements such as natural light-filled galleries, interactive installations, and immersive technologies to achieve this. The museum would also feature spaces dedicated to workshops, artist residencies, and educational programs, nurturing young talents and fostering community among artists and art enthusiasts alike.
The name of the museum, carefully chosen by Sheikh Anwar, wasMaerid al’ahlam: The Gallery of Dreams.It represented his belief that dreams can become reality and that art has the power to transcend boundaries and inspire change. It was a testament to the dreams and aspirations of female artists who had often been overlooked or marginalized throughout history but refused to be silenced.
Anwar knew that to truly make a difference, the museum had to be more than just a collection of artworks. It had to be a catalyst for change, challenging societal norms and perceptions of women's artistic contributions. He envisioned the museum hosting thought-provoking exhibitions, engaging panel discussions, and collaborations with international women's organizations, amplifying the voices of women artists and empowering future generations.
In this ambitious project, at least Anwar and Lucy were kindred spirits, two people who could understand their shared passion and quest for authenticity, Anwar reflected.
Together, they sought to uncover art that spoke to the soul and could, in time, unite differing genders and cultures and change the world—ending gender apartheid for good.
CHAPTERTWENTY-THREE
Lucy’s due date was now only weeks away. What if her son came early? What if she hadn’t finished the body of artworks Anwar had demanded be ready to exhibit in a celebration of his son’s birth?
She stared at the blank canvas. “Don’t overthink it! Just do it,” she said as she smeared Carmine Red straight from the tube.
It was true. Painting was exhilarating and cathartic. Just as her therapist, Issy, had told her. Art facilitated a sort of emotional bloodletting. She picked up a large brush and plunged it into a bucket of magenta, swept it over the canvas, then blended it into the red pigment with her hands. Gosh, that feels good, she mused as the paint dripped down her fingers.
The healing power of art was also one of the few things she remembered from a book she had browsed at the local library when she was small. Supposedly, it was a medieval practice that purged bad humors from your system. A kind of way to balance things out. It was a term she had always loved.
Art was her release, her bloodletting—only in a more beautiful way. Art purged all the toxicity and left only bubbles of bliss. Painting allowed her to express her anger and sorrow and free them from her soul.
When Lucy escaped her small-town upbringing in her teens, she dreamed of painting and becoming happier every time she painted. She dreamed of leaving an impact that would make other people happy, too. A legacy that would last forever in people's lives. And now, thanks to Anwar, that dream was about to come true.
She stared at her hand smeared in magenta pink. Pink as bright as the sunrise, pink like the satin ballet pumps and tutu she had worn as a child, pink the color of fairytales and romance. The magenta paint stuck to her like honey, clinging to the baggy T-shirt she loved to paint in decorated with Disney’s Minnie Mouse. Mickey and Minnie were soul mates, she suddenly recalled. Like Lucy and Anwar, she hoped. She thought it would be fun to call their daughter Minnie if they had another child and she was a girl. But Anwar would never allow his son to be named after a mouse.
Lucy filled the sink with warm, soapy water and began to scrub vigorously at the paint staining her hands. Why was she so obsessed with pink? Her intellect told her that the blues, baby blue, blue like the Arabian sky, was what she should be painting. Blue was safe. Blue was for boys, but for some reason that she couldn’t fathom, she didn’t feel like painting blue.
But she should, she reprimanded, as she scoured her skin until it was pink and tender. Anwar was a traditionalist regarding what colors were suitable for boys.
