Post by STEVEN CHOI on Aug 29, 2015 21:05:10 GMT
[attr="class","cheerleader"]He stared at the canvas. Not bad. Steven could see where the inspiration for the piece came from. Probably a product of a trip of self finding and exploration. A label underneath the painting listed the artist's name, Helen Irwin. Local, minored in art history. A smiling picture of a brunette followed the description.
His attention was more so focused on the painting which hung beside lady Irwin's. It was an oil piece, a scene of a beautiful lake with majestic mountains shrouding it in a grey, mist like effect. The shoreline, which dotted the edges of the bottom, was a green silky color with little bits of red and violet scattered about. It was a scene from Versailles, only skewed and twisted to something out of a strange fantasy, both dark and welcoming at the same time. The label underneath this one displayed his only name, listing the other accompanying information as unknown.
Steven didn't want to be known for his work, it just wasn't what he saw for himself. He painted for enjoyment, not for a living. Still was nice to see his own creations on display. Something self-validating about it.
A guard approached him and politely asked him to put out his cigarette. Smoking wasn't allowed in the gallery and Steven respected that. Still, the absence of something in his hands was unnerving and he pulled out a pen, twiddling it in his fingers.
Many people had passed by his piece since his arrival at the gallery an hour ago. He watched them silently. Some of them stopped to stare. Many others simply walked by. Art was a lost cause these days. Most people only came to the gallery because it was raining outside and admittance was free. Heartbreaking.
He pulled out his phone, an android imported from overseas and checked the time. Like the gallery visitors, he took had come without an umbrella and the cackling thunder outside deeply made him regret that decision. If the rain didn't clear up he'd have to walk in it. At least he had his hat.
His attention was more so focused on the painting which hung beside lady Irwin's. It was an oil piece, a scene of a beautiful lake with majestic mountains shrouding it in a grey, mist like effect. The shoreline, which dotted the edges of the bottom, was a green silky color with little bits of red and violet scattered about. It was a scene from Versailles, only skewed and twisted to something out of a strange fantasy, both dark and welcoming at the same time. The label underneath this one displayed his only name, listing the other accompanying information as unknown.
Steven didn't want to be known for his work, it just wasn't what he saw for himself. He painted for enjoyment, not for a living. Still was nice to see his own creations on display. Something self-validating about it.
A guard approached him and politely asked him to put out his cigarette. Smoking wasn't allowed in the gallery and Steven respected that. Still, the absence of something in his hands was unnerving and he pulled out a pen, twiddling it in his fingers.
Many people had passed by his piece since his arrival at the gallery an hour ago. He watched them silently. Some of them stopped to stare. Many others simply walked by. Art was a lost cause these days. Most people only came to the gallery because it was raining outside and admittance was free. Heartbreaking.
He pulled out his phone, an android imported from overseas and checked the time. Like the gallery visitors, he took had come without an umbrella and the cackling thunder outside deeply made him regret that decision. If the rain didn't clear up he'd have to walk in it. At least he had his hat.
[newclass=".cheerleader::-webkit-scrollbar"]width:3px;[/newclass][newclass=".cheerleader::-webkit-scrollbar-track"]background-color:#000000;[/newclass][newclass=".cheerleader::-webkit-scrollbar-thumb"]background-color:#e3e8ee;[/newclass]
