BASTIEN
I have late night conversations
with the moon.
Rexanna seemed happy with his idea, touched to the point of tears even; Bastien smiled with the knowledge that he had made her happy. It had been the point of the evening, after all (as well as having a good time and creating two paintings, but...really all that matter was the way her eyes lit up when she looked in his direction, and he knew he wasn't alone in the sudden slide of emotion they'd begun to slip down).
"I often find the work of people just beginning can be far more poignant than that of the masters." He said, intending to encourage her in the case of any nerves. It was true: he had taught many classes and seen many amateurs capture a certain something in their work that even the greatest amount of practice could not manufacture.
She asked where to start. Ah, what a question. It was one he actually had to think about for a moment, always having just begun his artistic endeavours without any real consideration for how he was going to do it. But for her sake he took a moment to go through his process.
"I would take a moment to look. Just...drink it in, yes? The colours, the mood...what you would like to remember of this, and what might be best left out of the fantasy. We are under no obligation to represent the world accurately. Just as we like it." This was a major part of his artistic philosophy, something he'd quite wrestled with with the contemporary artists of his time. Representative was in, impression was out. But here he was not a part of their boring tradition, and he would do as he liked. "Then...some like to begin with a sketch, others with a wash of colour. What feels right to you, Rexanna? Personally...I will begin with a wash, I think. To get a beginning of the colours."
With that said he dipped his brush in the water and took some yellow, confidently running it over the canvas. Expertly and with clear practice he switched to another brush in his hand, dipped this one in orange and began to blend up.
"I often find the work of people just beginning can be far more poignant than that of the masters." He said, intending to encourage her in the case of any nerves. It was true: he had taught many classes and seen many amateurs capture a certain something in their work that even the greatest amount of practice could not manufacture.
She asked where to start. Ah, what a question. It was one he actually had to think about for a moment, always having just begun his artistic endeavours without any real consideration for how he was going to do it. But for her sake he took a moment to go through his process.
"I would take a moment to look. Just...drink it in, yes? The colours, the mood...what you would like to remember of this, and what might be best left out of the fantasy. We are under no obligation to represent the world accurately. Just as we like it." This was a major part of his artistic philosophy, something he'd quite wrestled with with the contemporary artists of his time. Representative was in, impression was out. But here he was not a part of their boring tradition, and he would do as he liked. "Then...some like to begin with a sketch, others with a wash of colour. What feels right to you, Rexanna? Personally...I will begin with a wash, I think. To get a beginning of the colours."
With that said he dipped his brush in the water and took some yellow, confidently running it over the canvas. Expertly and with clear practice he switched to another brush in his hand, dipped this one in orange and began to blend up.
he tells me about the sun,
and i tell him about you.
REXANNA
