Page 25 of Love Is an Art
“The video made this painting look doable—at least to create that.” I show her the video. “I wasn’t aiming for a masterpiece, but I was hoping I could create something worthy of motel art. What am I going to do now?”
“I can give you some tips. I think your strategy of mastering this one painting can still work. And like you said, you’re not aiming to look like a successful artist,” Miranda says. “Maybe it’s even better to test Zeke’s desire to date someone creative by portraying an aspiring artist with all the rejection rather than some glamorous world of art openings.”
Does Zeke want to date an artist for the social cachet? Ugh. I’m definitely not about that. Wyatt wanted someone who could accompany him to society events.
No. Zeke couldn’t. Not with the way I was dressed at the art opening. That outfit definitely did not radiate glamour. I chuckle.
“Oh no. What if Zeke has dated a string of accomplished artists?” I rub my hands on my smock. “I didn’t think this through. I hate looking incompetent.”
Miranda shows me how to hold the brush properly and how to sweep the paint to get the effect shown in the YouTube video. She pulls her red hair back into a messy bun, slides over another easel next to mine, and works on her painting while I try again. We paint in a comfortable silence. My second attempt looks a bit better.
“This one seems too difficult,” I say. “Maybe I should just paint the background and put some stick figures on it. Remember that lecture we went to that linked the cave painters with today’s modernists? I can make stick figures. Or make some scribbles.”
“You could try that,” Miranda says. “I doubt drawing a stick figure will seem credible. Keep working on this one. Remember the rule of thirds.”
“Are there rules? Good. I can learn rules.”
“You divide the canvas into thirds, vertically and horizontally. And then you place focal points within that, so that you are leading the viewer around the composition. See what I did with this painting?” Miranda points to one of her paintings on the wall. “What do you see first?”
“The blue dot.”
“Exactly. Okay, for blue, you should say, ‘ultramarine.’ You should at least memorize the names of the paint colors.” She gives me a box of paint tubes. I put them on our oak dining room table to memorize later and return to stand next to her at my easel.
“And then what do you see?” she asks.
“The thick, orange line.”
“Right. That’s intentional. Because that gives a feeling of balance. I lead the viewer kind of like the way you lead a witness to admit the truth.”
I nod. We discuss the composition some more. The concepts are not completely foreign. Between Miranda and my sister, Kiara, I’ve gone to enough art exhibits that I know the language. Maybe this is doable.
Watching Miranda painting is very soothing.
“How’s work going?” she asks. “Still in the running for the bonus?”
“As far as I know,” I say.
The light from the streetlamp outside filters in through the crack in the curtains. Our track lighting spotlights the three easels we set up.
“You must like Zeke,” Miranda says. “I thought you couldn’t date and work at the same time.”
“It’s definitely not easy. And I actually thought he might be that unicorn who doesn’t mind dating a workaholic. After all, he received a work call and had to cut our evening short. But then he advised his friendnotto date a workaholic. I don’t know. I had fun that night.”
Miranda says, “You’re usually quite good at compartmentalizing. Saying something like, ‘See you in two months after I’ve received my bonus.’”
“Yes. But there was definite chemistry.” That look he gave me by the East River … mmm. “And I should be able to date and work. You always tell me that.”
“You definitely should,” Miranda says.
“And given all the women hitting on him, I don’t think he’ll be around in two months.”
“You looked happy when you were with Zeke. Happier than I ever saw you with Wyatt. But.” Miranda’s brow wrinkles and she looks down. “This is it. This is your chance to get the bonus and the FLAFL job. You’ve said yourself that the position doesn’t open up that often.”
“I’m going to get the bonus.” My mess of a canvas mocks me. “Last time, with Wyatt, you were worried that I wasn’t allowing myself to get too emotionally attached—that I was holding back too much. And now, I actually like Zeke, and you’re telling me I should put him on hold?”
“I’m just concerned that he won’t be supportive if he doesn’t like lawyers,” Miranda says. “And it’s the timing. Especially when I know how much you’ve always wanted to work for FLAFL. You’ve always been so clear on your goals.”
Except that I enrolled in law school intending to work for FLAFL, and instead, I went to a corporate firm so I could pay off my grad school debt and benefit from law firm training.
