Page 35 of Painting Celia

“How does ‘excited’ make your body feel?”

She closed her eyes without him asking. “Interested. I want to try—”

“No, in your body, your heart, your fingers.”

She hesitated, trying to get to where he was aiming her. The silence went on too long.

“Your breathing is faster,” he prompted. “Your neck is hot.” She raised a hand to feel it. He was right. How did he know?

She shivered and opened her eyes to his.

“I feel it,” she breathed, surprised. “How do I paint it?”

“Colors, lines, shapes. What comes to your mind?” She started considering. What was the correct answer? “Quick!” he barked.

She jumped. “Orange. Wavy lines. Small waves. Not like fire, like….”

“Don’t think of an analogy. Feel it.” He reached out and grasped her wrist, feeling the pulse there. For once, she didn’t stiffen up.

“Fluttering lines,” she said, set upon her task. “Pale bubbles rising, tiny ones. Movement, expanding over the whole canvas.”

He smiled proudly. “You’re starting to get how feelings can translate visually.”

“Can I write this down?” she asked.

He laughed, releasing her wrist. “Sure. Are you going to try to paint it?”

“Do you want me to?”

“It’s your feeling. You decide.”

She grinned. “I guess it depends on if I get any homework. Maybe I’ll try it. Maybe I’ll try other feelings too.” She went to a side table to write down the words she’d listed. He stayed to look at the quick line study he’d made.

“Just remember to paint when you feel it,” he said. “You can’t force it.” He bent to look closer at his little study. “When you want to paint something, you’ll know.”

She wrote silently behind him, jotting down everything she could remember, closing her eyes to recall more clearly. The physical feelings had been faint and subtle.

She was so accustomed to feeling nothing that she had to concentrate, but she could practice. If she could force emotions, like with a scary movie or sad song, she could practice alone. But she could also try to practice in real life. Surely there would be opportunities.

When she turned, he was still studying the figure. And frowning! Celia’s fledgling emotions drained away in response.

“Is something wrong?”

He exhaled, a scowl still twisting his mouth. Then he tried to relax, soothing himself, calming his features. She brightened, knowing that technique now.

“I should go,” he said. “I know this was short, but you made a big breakthrough there. It’s a good place to stop.”

Oh.

He picked up the canvas board as if to take it with him. Then he set it back down just as quickly.

“I’ll be busy this week,” he said. “I’ll see you in a few days, I guess.”

He was already heading for the door.

“León, wait!” He paused impatiently. “Sometimes, I get bored with my usual stuff. Is there maybe some exercise I could do then?”

He still looked a little irritated, his eyebrows lowered.

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