Part 1:
“Do you like it? Be careful, it's still drying."
“Uh, what are we talking about?" I asked Colin.
“My latest flirtation with the creative arts," he said.
“Flirtation?"
“Is that not the phrase?" he replied, pointing to an easel.
“I'm not sure. You're mean this painting?"
Two ducks held center stage upon a canvas.
Mallards, I think.
Brown feathers contrasted a blue lake and garish sunset.
One duck swam, ripple lines around his body for movement, his gaze looking left.
The second stood in the sand, staring out at the viewer in a breaking-the-fourth-wall, hey-what's-up kind of way.
“Wow, that's nice. Wonderful."
“Ever since I relocated here from Punctuation. I've struggled with the concept of art."
“What do you mean?
“Why does art exist? How to embrace it? To be a part of it."
“And now?"
“I think I understand. These kits! They make it so simple."
“Uh, what are we talking about?" I asked Colin.
“My latest flirtation with the creative arts," he said.
“Flirtation?"
“Is that not the phrase?" he replied, pointing to an easel.
“I'm not sure. You're mean this painting?"
Two ducks held center stage upon a canvas.
Mallards, I think.
Brown feathers contrasted a blue lake and garish sunset.
One duck swam, ripple lines around his body for movement, his gaze looking left.
The second stood in the sand, staring out at the viewer in a breaking-the-fourth-wall, hey-what's-up kind of way.
“Wow, that's nice. Wonderful."
“Ever since I relocated here from Punctuation. I've struggled with the concept of art."
“What do you mean?
“Why does art exist? How to embrace it? To be a part of it."
“And now?"
“I think I understand. These kits! They make it so simple."
My appearance at Rick's was not to flirt with art.
I'd gone there just then looking for he and Dale.
My brother wasn't answering my texts!
And today was a huge day.
The results of my Weather Camp applications!!
I'd applied to the top three:
Dvorski Climate Academy.
Barometer Boot Camp.
Young Stars Forecasting Program for Teens.
And ... I'd gotten into all three!
Possibly the best day of my life!!!
While Dvorski is the most prestigious ... I'd decided to go to Young Stars! It looks more fun, not all dry and academic.
Does that make me a bad scientist?
I hope not!
Either way, Young Stars is my choice.
And now it's time to celebrate.
But with Rick and Dale not available?
I had Colin and his paintings.
I'd gone there just then looking for he and Dale.
My brother wasn't answering my texts!
And today was a huge day.
The results of my Weather Camp applications!!
I'd applied to the top three:
Dvorski Climate Academy.
Barometer Boot Camp.
Young Stars Forecasting Program for Teens.
And ... I'd gotten into all three!
Possibly the best day of my life!!!
While Dvorski is the most prestigious ... I'd decided to go to Young Stars! It looks more fun, not all dry and academic.
Does that make me a bad scientist?
I hope not!
Either way, Young Stars is my choice.
And now it's time to celebrate.
But with Rick and Dale not available?
I had Colin and his paintings.
“You really are on to something here," I said to Colin. “Good for you."
“Thanks, Josie. I'm quite proud."
“Maybe someday ... you want to try real painting?"
Suddenly his face looked as lost as Van Gogh's ear.
“What's not real about these?" he asked.
“This isn't art. Not quite. It doesn't come from you."
A silence draped the room.
“I did it. Painted it, I mean. I came from me?"
“Yes and no. Technically, you did the work. But someone else did the idea."
“The idea?"
“The art didn't really originate with you."
“Huh. Where does art come from?"
“Your mind. Your imagination. Your heart and soul."
“I'm confused."
“Start with a blank canvas. You know? And go from there."
“But if I start with a blank canvas? How would I know what to paint?"
Well, what do you like? What do you think about?
“I like ... all of you?"
“That's sweet, but faces might be tough for a first try."
“I like birds! And balloons, too. Things that fly."
“Maybe that's a good place start."
“Thanks, Josie. I'm quite proud."
“Maybe someday ... you want to try real painting?"
Suddenly his face looked as lost as Van Gogh's ear.
“What's not real about these?" he asked.
“This isn't art. Not quite. It doesn't come from you."
A silence draped the room.
“I did it. Painted it, I mean. I came from me?"
“Yes and no. Technically, you did the work. But someone else did the idea."
“The idea?"
“The art didn't really originate with you."
“Huh. Where does art come from?"
“Your mind. Your imagination. Your heart and soul."
“I'm confused."
“Start with a blank canvas. You know? And go from there."
“But if I start with a blank canvas? How would I know what to paint?"
Well, what do you like? What do you think about?
“I like ... all of you?"
“That's sweet, but faces might be tough for a first try."
“I like birds! And balloons, too. Things that fly."
“Maybe that's a good place start."
“I'll paint things that fly. What colors should I use?"
“I'm not sure you get it," I said. “That's up to you."
“Just choose some colors? How reckless!"
“It's what people do. Really."
“Okay, I'll try it. And then make some circles to be the balloons?"
“The balloons don't have to be round. If you want, they can be square."
“What? Impossible!"
“Make the balloons any way you want. The way you see them."
“The way I see them?"
“The way you feel them at that moment. That's art."
“I get it. I think. Well? Not really."
“What do you think is art?"
“Putting the colors from the numbered jars to the matching spots on the canvas."
“Really?"
“Oh -- and always stay between the lines."
I sighed and frowned.
We had much, much more to discuss.
“I'm not sure you get it," I said. “That's up to you."
“Just choose some colors? How reckless!"
“It's what people do. Really."
“Okay, I'll try it. And then make some circles to be the balloons?"
“The balloons don't have to be round. If you want, they can be square."
“What? Impossible!"
“Make the balloons any way you want. The way you see them."
“The way I see them?"
“The way you feel them at that moment. That's art."
“I get it. I think. Well? Not really."
“What do you think is art?"
“Putting the colors from the numbered jars to the matching spots on the canvas."
“Really?"
“Oh -- and always stay between the lines."
I sighed and frowned.
We had much, much more to discuss.