“Gah, the blue! So stupid!” The woman railed and flung her arms wide, disgusted, at the painting hung under delicate lights to enhance its bold colors. She stamped off towards another painting, her red kitten heels slapping the white, wood floors.
Behind her trailed the younger woman and man, her arm through his, as she leaned close to his bent head.
“And why did we bring her?” Janell muttered to Todd as they stopped at another painting in the very white, very austere gallery. This was another abstract piece. Slashes of olive green with bits of red, ocher, and turquoise dotted and swirled in an alarming pattern. It was not a comfortable painting. Janelle arched a brow, but kept her comments to herself.
“It’s. . . ah . . .” Todd trailed off.
“Horrible! Too bold. To impertinent. Too Imperialistic.”
“Well, um, it’s not that bad,” Todd said, then flinched as the woman rounded on him, her long grey hair snapping, icy blue eyes burrowing into the tall man until he slouched in fear.
“It. Is. Disgusting.” The woman snapped at him, then whirled and marched off towards another painting, pushing through the groups of people holding champagne flutes. They had come to the opening gala of the artist, Sharon Meyers. A celebrated painter if one was to believe the critics. And one usually did.
“Imperialistic?” Janelle asked, but Todd just shook his head and sighed.
By all accounts, or as far as Janelle could tell, the evening had been a smashing success.
Several paintings had been placed in new homes and the curator of the gallery had been all smiles. Despite the railings of a crazy, mad woman who had practically insulted every painting there and the idiocy of the people purchasing the artwork.
Janelle sighed as she watched the other woman rail at another painting. She tugged Todd to her side.
“Next time your mother shows a series of paintings, leave her home,” Janelle requested and winced as Sharon Meyers pointed a sharp, red nail at a scared man who was admiring an abstract flower. “She’s going to scare off any prospective buyers of her work.”
Todd just groaned and reached for another glass of champagne on a tray as a waiter passed by. His mother was completely insane. But it was art….
I write a lot of critiques, what with book reviews and general opinions. So I decided to forego a traditional critique and write a bit of flash fiction. I had several ideas as I wrote this, and it was quite fun. Ah, those crazy artists out there. Me being one. 😛
As for the painting…. Well, it is an original Sharon Meyers piece…. *wink wink*