Chapter 1(LENA's POV)
The city looked like a painting this morning.
Soft sunlight touched the tops of buildings, and the sky was a pale, perfect blue. Trees along the sidewalk swayed gently, their leaves catching the light just right—like brushstrokes. I smiled, trying to hold the picture in my mind.
I should’ve brought my sketchbook, I thought.
But today wasn’t about painting. Today was about the interview.
My first real chance. An artist position at ‘The Aldrich Gallery’. I had gone over my answers the night before—what inspires you, what kind of work you create, how do you handle feedback.
But now, sitting on the bus, with my portfolio clutched tightly in my hands as if it held the answers to my prayer, I saw the bus stop approaching.
As I stepped down from the bus, my gaze shifted towards the lovely couple sitting in a dimly-lit cafe across the street. This took me back to last night when I met him in front of ukiyo-e-prints of Vega and Altair in a museum.
He was a blue eyed, tall man with a deliberate grace that made people turn when he entered a room. He had an effortless style. Baggy brown trousers, a dark shirt, and a paperback tucked behind his back. His hair was a little messy in a way that made it seem intentional. The kind of guy who probably spent hours in bookstores and late-night galleries, getting lost in stories and art.
He approached me when he caught me eyeing him and asked me, “What is it that moves you about art?”
I was totally taken aback when the first question he asked me was this but nevertheless I told him, ”It’s the emotion it evokes in you, the part of you it touches, the idea it conveys that makes it so important and amazing. So I always come here to calm myself down before any big event.”
He chuckled and said, ”My God you are such an enigma. I have never seen someone give that great an answer. By the way, if you don’t mind me asking, what is the big event?”
“Why don’t I tell you this the next time we meet?”
“A woman of intrigue! I like it. Or, you could tell me this over a cup of coffee”
***
To say I was nervous would be an understatement. Still I gathered my courage and knocked on the door. When a voice asked me to enter, I walked in with confidence. A knowledgeable woman sat across from me and asked for my portfolio as soon as I entered.
Immediately, she started looking through the photos. She stuck on only one photo and asked me to describe it. That was the photo of my neighbourhood where I grew up as a kid. I was ready for a well - rehearsed answer that included words like abstract, minimalist, pastel, serene. As I was about to say, she asked me why I think that she got stuck on this particular portrait. Nothing could’ve prepared me for this question.
I racked my brain for big words but nothing came to mind. After taking a deep breath, I said “ I lost my parents when I was 14, and this portrait is the only thing that still makes me feel connected to them after all these years. This painting is not perfect, far from it actually; but the real and subtle quality of the painting could have been the factor that struck you the most. The strokes are hazy and not clear because they depict distant memories like mine.”
She looked thoroughly impressed and after some time which felt like an eternity, she finally told me that the interview was over. I exited the building and headed home. I made myself some lunch and completed my unfinished painting on my canvas.
The next day I woke up to the phone ringing and little did I know that this call would change the course of my future forever.
