Through out the entire week I had scowered the art shops in the city trying to find all assortments and shades of blue. Stemming from aqua to storm cloud, I’d gathered up my choice selections and tucked them away in my bag safely, wondering if he would actually turn up to let me paint his eyes, despite his sweet acceptance and promise he would be here by one, as soon as he could get away.
He’d been most willing to save me from bumbling on, smiling slightly as we walked onwards back to the car park, the light dimming over the trees at an amazing rate. Maybe I’d jumped the gun, asked too much of this imaginative stranger, but part of me was desperate for him to turn up, the prospect of painting such blended eyes as well as enjoying the company of another inspired soul, was just so strong. My desire to be understood through art was as great as his need to seek creative independence.
’Where do you want me? Vogue strike a pose?’ a jolly voice sniggered from behind me, startling me slightly as I dropped the thin tubes of oil and acrylic paints instantly.
’I’ll strike something else in a moment, what’s with the element of surprise?’ I beamed, watching a very plain clothed Taylor saunter round to sit beside me, shrugging his bag off his shoulder, tossing a thick hardback novel down on top of it. His hair was notably lighter, no doubt thanks to the 90 degree temperatures we’d been sizzling and roasting in all this week, his skin tinged with a bronzed hue punctuating his bold sapphire blues boldly.
’No element just wanted to make a grand entrance, I believe that’s what muses do… that and wear berets, parading round town as if they are the oh dark and mysterious wonders of the earth,’ his tone was highly playful, cheeky and endearing, successfully managing to put my mind at ease that he thought that I was perhaps some psycho nit wit who came across as an okay kinda gal but then careered into his loony bin list as soon as I asked to paint his eyes. Yes you ask every celebrity stranger you meet if you may paint their eyes *smacks forehead*
’You might raise more than a few eyebrows If you wore a beret I think muse,’ I winked, trying to decide how to tackle my personal project for the day.
I reached down, swiping his book and opened it at the page somewhere around the middle where he’d folded down the corner neatly. Deciding that a perspective drawing could work well for me I looked out at the scenery of the chine, my sideways angle allowing me to capture anything I so desired.
’Okay if you take your book and sit the other side of me, sideways then I will just warm up with that, then I’ll do just a side profile of your eyes,’ I instructed, watching him shuffle round behind me to plop himself, cross legged with his book laying on his bare calf’s, his black shorts riding just up over his knee. At that sight I almost wished that we were doing anatomy drawings, those legs had potential…
Over an hour had passed and I’d managed to get through a good three chapters of my latest book find, a battered old second hand copy of Pride and Prejudice I had found in a book store when we were in England. She’d not said much so far, just rummaged around a lot, pursed her lips and narrowed her eyes, the odd time turning to me, slightly tilting my head or move hair out of my face. It felt kind of strange, her soft fingers touching me, looking at me time and again, and knowing that this felt unlike any other time a woman’s eyes had scrutinized me. There was no shyness from her, she touched me, turned my head and tilted my chin, all whilst staring into my eyes trying to gain the most from the right lighting and precise angle. There was no motive and no flirtatious intention behind it and the more she did it, the more relaxed I felt around my new found friend.
Being totally honest, her proposition of helping her with this had shocked me a little but when I realized that I had a potential to help this talented woman press on with her artistic wish, I knew I was doing a good deed in maybe getting her an ‘A’. I felt almost guilty for forgetting that not everyone had a flexible itinerary where they could write what they wanted and when they wanted like I could with my music, my career. She had to do things to establish herself, but by the past two weeks and seeing her work she needs no course, she has all the training she needs in her vision and her heart. No doubt her strong independence and ability that practically flowed and lived in her every word of our conversation last week would see her through life well and good.
’Can I break this pensive silence by any chance?’
’Depends how you want to break it,’ she smiled, glancing at me for a split second before she turned her valued attentions back to her work. I shuffled a little, moving my feet and wiggling my toes cooped up in their sandals, shutting my book softly.
’I just wanted to talk, try and find out more about you,’ I started, deciding upon finding my sense and asking a bit more about her, more things of a valuable nature rather than just the bare essentials.
’Apart from university what do you do? Do you have a part time job, or do you go partying every night? Do you live in a house or an apartment? Seeing as how I’m numbing my ass I thought I’d make use of the time here,’ I explained, flashing her my best toothy grin, watching her as she leaned forward and turned my head slightly, placing two fingers against my chin and moving it a couple of inches to the right.
’And what if I said to you that I manage just fine, I live my life just fine and I do plenty of things to keep myself occupied through the week? Would that be the kind of answer you so desire?’ her eyes didn’t lift from the canvas, just continued on paying attention to her creation, her fingers gripping the small detail brush in her hand tightly.
’I’m just curious as to how you manage and how you keep yourself occupied. What makes Season Mally the woman sitting here and painting my eyes?’ I was a little surprised that she hadn’t replied with some in depth answer like she did to my every basic curiosity last week during our first, real conversation.
’Season Mally makes herself and makes herself just fine, anyway, what’s with the sudden quick fire questions?’ her tone wasn’t threatening, nor was it lilted with a giggly laugh or a smile, her unwillingness to elaborate for me on more detailed areas of her life was obviously apparent in her answers.
’I wouldn’t call them quick fire just sheer curiosity. If I’m honest and at the risk of blushing like a beetroot, I find you very thought provoking, the simple fact that you have a raw love for creativity cannot be ignored and I just want to understand that more. I’ve never come across such a creative female mind in my day to day life and that’s why my mind wishes to understand,’ I did not wish to seem rude or pushy in my desire to understand her and what makes her so expressive and imaginative, so I explained truthfully what I was really focusing on. I watched as she blotted some of the paint from the canvas with the rag, before she changed her brush and leaned forward to move my head once more, this time tilting my chin upwards a little and asking me softly to move round. The impression of her vision felt to me like a male throwing his head back in pure ecstasy, but I was sitting beside her now, facing her, my eyes wide so she could merely glance down at me and draw her inspiration.
’I know for me that my friends can only see two faces of me, the music and the family faces and despite the fact they don’t see a face of fame- I wish they could see a plea to be taken seriously as a photographer, as a poet. I know I have it inside of me somewhere near the surface. I want to make my friends see that, god I was even too afraid to tell them I’ve looked into doing a photography degree on the road next year,’ I decided to take the helm, hoping maybe she would follow, as well as feeling partially cleansed for opening up and telling some things I knew well inside of me, but needed someone else to hear.
’I’ve thought about following Isaac’s lead and getting a place out here, near the beach so I can have my own creative sanctum, our family home is more of a melting pot zoo than a sanctum. I love my friends but if I lived away I just know that I would be able to create my own separate world of creativity, something totally separate from the band. Don’t get me wrong I love the music and I’d never dream of leaving it, or the band behind but I just wish I could be independent individual as well as being one third of a commercial unit,’ looking out the corner of my eye I could see her listening to me, nodding her head slightly in a silent understanding, yet her lips remained pursed keeping her silent.
’When your coming and going, signing boobs and stomachs your independency tends to go on the back burner. You get used to the parties and the meetings, getting to a city and having to write the name of it on the back of your hand because you mind is so full of business and music you fear you may get it wrong. There’s no time to grab your camera and take a picture of the setting sun or the bright blue sky when people forever perceive you as one third all of the time. I guess if I didn’t love what I was doing, being known as a fraction instead of a whole would have driven me crazy by now. Friends keep my feet on the ground and take me out for taco bell and ice cream milkshakes, but even they don’t see a whole person,’ I was starting to feel braver, being more honest about my crazy life and my wish to moderate the craziness and unleash the visual demon within but I could tell by her looks at me the topic had provoked a different reaction from her, and that only intrigued me more.
He finished another, revealing and honest speech and I felt like I had to stop myself from showing a visible look of curiosity about his life, that was so very much different and more multi coloured than mine ever was or could ever really be. What he was saying was a total contrast to anything that was true in my life and it was scary to hear that he could be so apart of everyone else and only be able to reserve such a little piece for himself, such as Saturday afternoons down at Summerton Chine.
’But enough about me, come on you can tell me, do you and your girlfriends go man spotting at the local club and then head back to watch a cheesy movie and paint each others toe nails? Or do you and your arty friends go down to the galleries every Sunday exhibition day?’ I finished the pencil outline of this new angle of his mesmerizing peepers and sighed, looking at him with his flushed cheeks, wriggling his bum on the grass, no doubt trying to get some feeling back in it.
’For me I don’t need friends or nights on the town to gain validation. Since moving here I’ve not made any friends and I’ve not gone in search of companionship, I feel that I have everything I need right inside of myself me, myself and I have a great time just sitting at home, painting up some random sketch I may have made on my way home from class my TV blaring out jeopardy and empty Chinese take out boxes resting on my counter. That, dear Taylor is my social life, friendship circle and general happiness all rolled into one, easy instalment,’ I was wondering if my recluse like response was what he was expecting, weather it sent a scared pang through him like his words did, the stark contrast of our lives apparent and suspending in the air around us. I finished mixing up an array of colours before looking at him, his head upright and his expression displaying a look of pure shock.
’I’m sorry if I seem a little taken a back, it’s just what you said seemed unlike anything I’ve ever heard from a female I have met in my life! Each and every girl I have dated seems to think that friendship and social function is life or death. Each and every date I have been out on consists of expensive dinners, dancing and making sure they have something worth able to tell their friends. But how come you manage? Surely there must come a point when you need help or feel the need for company and companionship?’
’My easel and brush are all the company and companionship I so need and if there is something that truly vexes me, that I cannot seem to work out for myself I will just have to go without or do my best to try and understand it. I don’t like conforming or having to live up to any expectations other than my own. What you were saying about your friends only thinking you have two faces, when really there are many more hidden beneath the surface is exactly why I choose to go without them- I can show all my faces this way and it makes me happy,’
I was now well and truly struck dumb with awe at this woman. I felt a surge of overwhelming high esteem for her, for her capabilities that stemmed beyond her pride and being proud or stubborn but I felt somewhat intimidated by her abilities to choose her ways and paths without worrying about what another thinks. Art really did control her life, she lived it and breathed it and was the absolute worshiper of the self-happiness that a palette and brush could bring. It scared me, it alarmed me and it most defiantly shocked me, that someone so inspirational and imaginative could function souly on the basis of her passion. Even I can’t function souly on music, despite my eternal love for it and the happiness it surrounds me in, I have to have more things to make me a complete whole. My photography, my family and the like have to be added to my main passion to fill my life-all she needed was art and I wanted to know her secret. I was a captivated man with an urge to understand.
’I don’t live grandly and I don’t wish to, just enough to get by is all I need as long as I can paint. Life is forever about art and it makes me. Anything I paint has me in it, weather it be a lone flower in a vase or a rock from this chine it all has me in it, symbols and objects that make up me as a person,’
’The lone flower would represent you standing alone, surviving on your own, the rock would display your tough shell, your hard train of thought and the many minerals of your imagination that is the glue that holds it all together,’ I continued, picking up on her words and understanding them completely. It was then I watched her smile, looking straight at me in a simplistic look of realization that I totally understood everything she was opening up and telling me.
’If it’s just you then you chose how to make yourself happy and when it’s okay to be weak, you have total control and for me personally, I don’t like to feel out of control I have to know where I’m going, life’s to precious to waste time,’
’Okay you can see now,’ she announced proudly, calling me over from the trashcan where I was tossing away our sandwich cartons and paper cups from our late makeshift lunch. Things had fallen pretty silent between us during the last hour, both of us satisfied with the revelations for now and if anymore were to be shared today one of us would most defiantly over load with all the new information about the other. I strolled over beside her, finally seeing the various looks, stares and positions she had me posing in, duplicated painstakingly on the canvas.
’How do you do that? I mean, just literally lift my eyes from me and place them on the page? Getting a numb ass and a slight sunburn was worth it Season,’ I exclaimed, examining the multiple sets of my eyes placed around the page, the multitude of blues all lovingly blended and each individual fleck, arch and line gave them all a solo air.
’You make a good muse Taylor, even if you do squirm!’ she jibed, nudging me slightly as she dabbed her finger over some of the oil paint to check how well it was drying.
’So is a muse the same as a friend, or is it something different?’
’Does it have to have a definite classification?’
’I’d like to know, after all I can’t weren’t this as a passing acquaintance anymore, we know stuff about each other and I’ve sat here for almost 5 hours helping you out, so what would you call it?’
’You’re a pleasure to draw, you bring out a flurry of imagination, you are an inspiration in a sense, exactly what a muse should be,’
’So what are you to me then if I’m your muse?’ the pause rose between us, stopping her from packing up her things as I sat on the ground still, looking up at her with a faint curling at the corners of my lips and looking at her through a thin sheet of awe that seemed to be thickening as I grasped just how able she was, how successfully individual she had made her life. I was wondering just how I could get me some of that and still be a part of something else, could it work that way or would I have to go and stick on one side, be a unit or an individual?
’I can be what you want me to be in your own mind, a mystery, an inspiration, a loner or just a girl with a paintbrush. We all make the people we know what we want,’
’Would you be my muse?’
It was as easy as that. The woman I had caught on camera three Saturday’s ago had just screamed out to be captured by the lens and was screaming twice as loud now. There had to be a way to imprint such an unusual and pensive being in a still picture. So I thought it best to try, for like a blue moon, such opportunities and spiritual minds only come around every once in a while.