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Son for Hire: Chapter 92
🕑 Added 2022-07-04 21:02:53 +0000 UTCRather clumsily I set up the sturdy wooden easel as I’d never set one like this up before. I return to the supplies and bring them back to the dining area. Out on the table I spread out the different brushes and paints and supplies. I return again and bring back one of the blank canvases from the stack and place it on the easel. I stare at the blank white rectangle, an empty field of pure possibility, then I look about at the different items on the table feeling both excited and hesitant. Excited because I was absolutely pumped to be able to try my hand at making art but hesitant because everything here looked too nice to just play around with. These were materials for somebody who actually knew what they were doing, not an rank beginner like me. In the end excitement wins out. It had taken me too much courage just to get to this point to back out now.
I first put on some pleasant background tunes, not only because it was relaxing but also to cover the barely perceptible sounds of my sister jilling off to porn in her room. On the table I prop my phone up and begin to search for a video to walk me through the basics of oil painting. I begin with Bob Ross, which was certainly interesting and informative, but thankfully soon find another linked video that really started at the very beginning to teach me step by step. I get a crash course about surfaces, paints, mediums, thinners, palate papers, color mixing, stroke thickness and technique, and some basic dos and don’ts. I go and collect some paper towel and an apron too as the instructor suggests. It was a fantastic amount of information condensed into a mere half hour but I find that I pick it up with ease. I was never the best student in the world but a lot of this stuff just made sense. The most useful tidbit I discover is the advice near the end of it: ‘Don’t fear failure, it’s the only way you’ll learn.’
“Right.” I say as I choose my first brush. “No fear.”
I ready everything. I knew precisely what I wanted to paint. I could see it as clearly as the beautiful peonies on the table just waiting to be brought to life on the white expanse in front of me. Thankfully it was a simple image of basic shapes, plain background, and bold colors. Something even a newb like me could take a crack at. After testing a few things on the paper I begin my very first oil painting.
This was niiiiice! The brush had a weight and solidity that just felt right, unlike those tiny frail water paint brushes I used to use from those children’s kits. The paint moved smoothly yet took effort as I pulled it across the textured surface of the canvas. After the very first stroke I pause to admire it, noting how the color thinned toward the end. Through just studying the curved line I could see how the stiff bristles must have bent and twisted as I moved it. The thickness and richness of the pigment gave it a tactile quality that I could see without needing to touch. I look at the tip of the brush, feeling the comfortable smooth grain of the wooden handle in my hand, and then back to the canvas. It was just a line but it was a damn good line. It wasn’t exactly the way I pictured it would be when I started it…it was somehow even better. Daubing the brush back into the paint I go again.
After the second stroke I pause again simply to admire the color and shape. I could feel my confidence building. “No fear.” I say again as I set to work. Two lines become three, then four, then smooth back and forths as I fill a section in. There were smudges and blobs, pesky little spots that wouldn’t fill right, and despite my best effort my hand would only kind of do what my brain was telling it to. Overall though the image in my my mind started to actually began to take shape.
It isn’t long after that Kitty emerges looking a bit flush in the cheeks.
“Feel better?” I chuckle.
“You know it babe.”
“Ugh.” I shudder and we both laugh.
“What is this?” She says as she hurries over to stand beside. “An orange?”
I shake my head. “Something else.”
She watches me apply a stroke. “That’s so cool. Is it pretty easy?”
“I don’t know.” I shrug. “This is all I’ve done so far.”
“Well it’s a good start.” She pats my back. I give her a look for jostling me. “Sorry!” Sniffing the air she makes a sour face. “What is that smell?”
“The thinner.” I say as I swirl the brush in the paint and add a few more dabs. “It’s powerful stuff.”
“I didn’t know painting was going to stink! Ugh! I just aired this place out too.”
“I love it.” I whisper. “The colors, the feel, the smells. It’s just…wonderful.”
She laughs and watches me for a bit longer before encouraging. “You do you bro.”
It is maybe twenty or forty minutes later, though I honestly couldn’t say as I’d completely lost track of time, when Evelyn comes down the stairs. In her hands she carries a plastic container full of chocolate chip cookies, freshly baked no doubt.
Looking past the canvas I smile and let the words flow naturally. “Hi Mom.”
I could hear a little scoff of surprise from Kitty but I ignore it. She was just going to have to get used to this.
“Hey baby.” Evelyn replies. “Hi Kitty.” Her face brightens the moment she sees me and sees what I am doing. “You started painting already! Ohhh, this is exciting.”
“Yeah.” I say. “It’s been really fun.”
“Hey Evie.” Kitty, who was kicked back on the sofa and checking out school options again, claps the laptop closed then gets up and goes to Evelyn to take the treats from her. There is a small nod of appreciation from her for the cookies and a nod back from Evelyn that she was only too happy to do it. “He’s pretty intense about this stuff.” She nods back at me. “I don’t think he’s heard half the things I’ve been talking to him about.”
I giggle because it was true. There was something in the paints that just…held me. The colors, the textures, the feel of the brush as the paint rolled off of it, the aromas, just everything. In my new home, in this place of fresh starts and second chances and clean karma, I paint with a freedom I had only dreamed of back at the apartment. My limited skills were frustrating to be sure but there was something magical about creating something where there had been nothing that tapped into my soul.
The moment she was relieved of the cookies Evelyn makes a beeline around to see the picture. “It’s not very good.” I warn her.
“OH!” She exclaims. “Oh Donald! That is incredible!”
I can’t help but smile. As in physically incapable of not smiling. I knew she would have said that no matter what it looked like but it didn’t change how good it felt to hear that coming from her. Especially because I knew it actually didn’t look that bad for my very first try. “Thank you.”
She comes up behind me and lightly rubs my back as she tries to makes sense of my crude work. The moment she does she lets out a startled gasp. “Hah! Oh my goodness! Is that…? It’s the little fox from my cup! Isn’t it? Bottom’s up?”
I nod and say softly as I point to the larger figure beside and behind the little one. “And his Momma.”
“And his…” I swear Evelyn nearly bursts into happy little bits right there on the spot. “…and his Momma? His Momma! Oh my goodness! Yes it is!”
“He got scared ran back home to her.” I say softly.
“Yes! Of course he did.” Evelyn slips her arms around me to hug me from behind. She squeezes me tight. “And his Momma was waiting for him with open arms.”
“Yeah.” I look back over my shoulder and the pair of us just beam at each other.
“Ugh!” Kitty rolls her eyes, her plump lips are dotted with crumbs and her right cheek bulges with a cookie that she was chewing on. “Could you two tone it down? I’m tryin to eat here!”
