Page 2 of Curvy Crush
I take a deep breath and feel the stress slip away as I remind myself to see the good, not the bad. If only others could do that instead of only seeing my size.
Chapter Two
EVAN
I’m in my studio, and putting the finishing touches on the mountain I’m painting. I add some white paint to the edges of the gray mountain, making it look like snow. I add a little gray to the sky, making it a cloudy, dreary day. The mountains look sharp, jagged, and dangerous, but the snow blanketing the rock gives it a softened look. The soft fluffy snow gives the viewer the idea that the mountains are safe. Only the trained eye knows the danger that lies beneath.
The painting I’m working on is one in a series of six for the high school art department. Each scene or piece is a picture taken from our town of Loveville, Colorado. So far, I’ve managed to finish the Lovers Lake scene, the drive-in diner, and I’m now working on the third piece of the mountain range. It was left up to me to decide what to create. I think for my next piece I’ll paint the old Victorian house on Rosebud Lane. It’s a famous spot in town where a lot of tourists stay, since it’s now open to the public as a bed and breakfast.
I love to paint realism, but my passion lies with abstract. I feel that’s a real art form, to take something real and twist it and turn it until it’s completely unrecognizable. I love to make people look and think differently. While I have my favorite styles when it comes to painting, I’m also running a business and, in order to make money, I have to be willing to paint a variety of different subjects and styles.
While my art hasn’t slowed in production, my business has been dragging a bit, so I’ve recently decided to start up a website so I can feature my work and sell it around the world. The only problem is getting the website designed and finding a photographer who can take a picture of the canvases while making sure all the elements of the art are visible. This means finding not only a great photographer, but someone who shares my level of passion and understanding about my art.
I put an ad online in search of photographers, and I have a couple of interviews lined up. I’m praying that someone works out. I finish with the mountain scene and step away to look it over. My eyes start on the top of the canvas and move down it, searching for anything that needs more attention. I look at it as a whole, and everything looks perfect. I drop my brush in the jar of paint thinner and dust off my hands as I stare at it proudly. I check the time; it’s pushing noon. Deciding on some lunch, I wash up, leave the studio, and head toward the bakery. I order a sandwich and some soup, I have a seat by the big bulletin board. As I eat, I look over the ads. Plenty of people are looking for tutors for their kids. There are fliers for babysitters wanting work, and even some ads from the shops in town promoting their sales. Then my eyes land on one for a local photographer.
There are several images on the paper of photos they've taken. Things like family photos, landscapes, and special occasions such as weddings, but nothing as detailed as what I’m looking for. The bottom of the page has a phone number written on each little square. I tear off a square, and I slide it into my phone case, making a mental note to call her when I get back to the studio; the more interviews, the better.
I eat my turkey on rye and wash it down with a bowl of Italian Wedding Soup before getting up, leaving to get back to work. I usually don’t like to work on more than one piece a day, but I’m on a time crunch with this job. I like to start fresh first thing in the morning when everyone is still sound asleep. There’s something about the quietness of the morning mixed with a restful night’s sleep that really get the creative juices flowing. Not to mention, I don’t like to take the energy of the previous painting into the next painting.
I walk back to my studio. I go directly to my small office and have a seat behind my desk. I check my email and get a few confirmations for the interviews. Then I remember the number I picked up from that flier, and I pull it out of my phone case. I check the time and see that it’s not quite one yet. I don’t want to interrupt her lunch break. I set the number aside and decide to get a little more work done before calling.
I move the canvas of the mountains off to the side to try while I get everything set up for the new painting. I pick up a pencil and do a quick and simple sketch of the Victorian bed and breakfast, before going in with paint and bringing the picture to life with definition and light. I decide to paint the house at dawn in the early spring, using bright colors such as green grass, multicolored flowers in the front yard, and a bright sky of pinks, oranges, and yellows. I add in the white picket fence and the sign in the front yard. I even add in a few kids playing with a dog up front. The painting begins to come together, slowly but surely. Getting the main design is the easy part. It’s when you start adding in color, shadows and light that things get interesting. I get the entire outline done and have added some color to the painting before I take a break. As I’m walking back to my office, I hear my phone ringing, and I quickly pick it up as I fall into the chair behind the desk.
“Hello?”
“Hey, man. What’s going on?” my best friend, Shepard, says on the other end of the line.
“Not much. What are you up to? I haven’t heard from you in a while.”
“I’ve been busy, but I just happen to be in town. Want to meet up for dinner and drinks?”
“Oh yeah? You’re in Colorado?” I ask, unable to believe it. Shepard is a bigwig CEO. He never travels for pleasure. It’s always business. I can’t help but to wonder what’s behind his recent visit.
“Yeah, I’m doing some scouting for a new hotel I’m wanting to open.”
“Here? In Loveville?”
He laughs. “Yeah, figured I’d cash in on that high tourist population you guys have.”
“Smart man,” I laugh out.
“Anyway. Dinner?”
“Yeah, I’d love to catch up. What time are you thinking?”
“I have a few meetings with some town advisors, but how about seven?”
“Sounds good. Any place in mind?”
“I don’t know. This is your town. What’s good?”
“There’s a bar and grill on Main?”
“Perfect. See ya soon.”
He hangs up, and I check my watch to see how much time I have left before needing to get home to shower for dinner. I’ve pretty much wrapped things up for the day, so I head home to get cleaned up for dinner, not wanting to show up covered in paint and smelling of paint thinner. Being a painter means that I don’t have many clothes that aren’t splattered with paint. I have to dig into the back of my closet. I get lucky and find the one pair of jeans that I haven’t worn in a while. After showering, I shave and get dressed. I put some gel in my hair and work it through. I add a little cologne and head back to the kitchen to grab my wallet and keys.
When I glance at the clock, I see that I still have a few minutes to kill before leaving for dinner. I grab a beer from the fridge and sit at the table, looking out the back window and finding a couple of raccoons picking at the bird feeder. I watch them for a moment, but get bored quickly. With time still on my side, I go ahead and pull out my cell, typing the number of the photographer into the phone to give her a call.
