You are art. (Closed for now for FF and a GF who wishes to remain anonymous)

[FurryFury]

Occ: This is being played in IM so the entries will be short. This is an experiment. The first entry is by my GF.

IC:

A tall, tan, long-haired blonde in a leather calf length coat and broad brim hat enters the Pier. He carries a zippered leather folio and an over-the-shoulder satchel. He heads toward the benches near the shore.

 

[FurryFury]

Meredith walked to Fisherman's wharf. The smells in the art were comforting though they didn't all go together in most people's minds, unless you lived here. She ordered a bowl of soup with some sour dough and sat at an outside table watching the tourists and workers alike mingle as if life were a race.

 

[FurryFury]

His long frame slides into an empty bench. Pulling a few charcoal pencils from a pocket he tucks one behind an ear. He pulls the waist length hair to the side out of his way. Right hand balancing the pad he starts sketching.

 

[FurryFury]

Once she had felt the same way, racing along in life. That was before she got sick. Now she was taking life a bit slower. She was over the self pity most of the time. Taking life slower made some things much more enjoyable. Knowing it could all be gone in a blink and probably would added the spice of the night.

The art gallery she had just come from had been disappointing. None of the art spoke to her. Usually art did, but this stuff had been just a bit too pretentious and self conscious. The opening her friend had convinced her to go to ended up making her feel empty.

 

[FurryFury]

The smell of turpentine is in the air. Mixed with the salt from the ocean and a few unpleasant smells like rotting seaweed and fish heads.

 

[FurryFury]

A walk down the pier just seemed right. It was a beautiful clear night. It seemed fortuitous that she felt well enough for the walk so she seized on the opportunity. Smelling the soup she smiled and noticed a man who was quite handsome.

He moved with a certain grace that was rare. He could be a work of art all by himself. Then he pulled out some things and began to draw. She was intrigued after a while she made a move. Picking up her bowl and bread she walked closer to peak at what he was doing. She was trying to be sly about it. She didn't want to disturb him.

 

[FurryFury]

Thumbnail sketches made it hard for her to see what he was drawing.

 

[FurryFury]

She sort of pretends she is just strolling by. It frustrates her that she can tell what he is doing. It's probably the water, maybe some boats. Meredith sighs, but stands further along looking out at the water and finishing her soup. I'm too noisy for my own good, she thinks.

 

[FurryFury]

He unbuttons his leather calf length coat and the broad brim hat he tosses onto the bench beside him. He has on bell-bottom jeans and a red long-sleeved shirt underneath. Still wearing his Blublocker sunglasses even though it is way past sunset. From what she can see as she passes the sketches are not of the ocean, the wharf or the beachfront.

 

[FurryFury]

I wish I could do that. It's not fair to see images like I do and not be able to draw them or make them in anyway. She thinks to herself. She finds a garbage can and throws her refuse away. She couldn't finish it, she never can anymore. Still she was grateful to have enjoyed what she did.

 

[FurryFury]

"Would you like to see some of my work?" His deep tenor voice reaches out to her along with the hint of English Leather aftershave.

 

[FurryFury]

Her long dark hair is pulled by the breeze off the water. To look at her, one wouldn't know she was ill at all. She is glad of that at least. Pity is the last thing she craves. In fact, she hates it. Her brown eyes are wide and catlike in some undefinable way as she makes another pass by the man, enjoying what she can see of him and his art.

She jumps at his voice just a bit. She looks a little sheepish. Caught!

"Yes, I would. Was I being that obvious?"

 

[FurryFury]

His smile is coy. "Come have a seat." He moves his hat out of the way. "These are just prints and a few drawings I have with me." He chuckles. "A little hard to carry ceramics or sculpture around."

 

[FurryFury]

"I'm impressed you work in more than one medium then? Do you show anywhere I would know of?" She asks, sitting where he indicates and make room for her. A bit of a blush flows into her cheeks as she does so.

 

[FurryFury]

"Drawing, painting, prints, ceramics, I pretty much work with them all. Mostly the subject suggests the medium." He pulls the folio around in front of him.

 

[FurryFury]

"I wish I could do that." She says. The way she talks, it sounds like there is a little bit of a question at the end of her sentences.

She gestures to the sketch pad. "May I?"

 

[FurryFury]

He hands her the pad. The thumbnails are of people.

 

[FurryFury]

She notes how fine the detail and porportion is on the hands, a rare talent that. Her mouth opens a little her face relaxes as she soaks in the bits and pieces of art that he has done. Even these initial drawings call to her. She is mesmerized.

 

[FurryFury]

"I believe these are what you want to see." He sweeps his long blonde hair back over his shoulder then unzips the folio.

 

[FurryFury]

What is it about him that keeps startling her so? Something about his voice perhaps? She watches him, just as fascinated by his movements, the skin and muscle sliding under his shirt as he moves.

 

[FurryFury]

He has the look of a California surfer a slightly squarish jaw line with just a hint of reddish blonde stubble. As he opens the folio you can see that the one on top is an Acid rock concert done in psychedelic colors. "Fillmore West" he says giving the title of the work.

 

[FurryFury]

She blinks. For some reason pulling her attention from him to his art work seems to be hard. Eventually she manages to look at the work he shows her. It's a beautifully detail thing.

She finds herself feeling less empty as the art warms her, connects her with something inside her.

"It's wonderful!" Was all she could say at first. Her eyes finally going back up to his face.

 

[FurryFury]

"The next three are charcoal sketches from North Beach, a cheap place of underprivileged and prostitutes along the strip area." They are emotional poverty scenes.

 

[FurryFury]

She can't believe how much she wants to go on staring at him. When did she get so rude? Forcing her eyes back the art she smiles as she looks she knows the area a bit. One particular piece makes her eyes wet with emotion. This one is a real artist.

"Do you have a place you show?" She finds herself asking again. She thought she had been in most of the galleries and museums but she had never seen his work before.

 

[FurryFury]

The third one is one of the best charcoal sketches you have seen in a while. It is drawn by someone with talent. The details are suggested not forced.