Unnatural Life in Picture
“It’s like they vomited colour theory on the canvas.” Said Sanja, swirling her warming champagne in the thin-stemmed glass, sucking at her teeth.
I stared intently at the curious painting hanging on the wall of Gllry, a hip new art space in the trendy North end of town. The painting had appeared anonymously one day, wrapped in fading brown paper, and Sanja, desperate to have a new discovery on her hands, hung it immediately in pride of place. She didn’t know who the artist was, and wasn’t that just the best PR money couldn’t buy?
“I find it disturbing…” I said, trailing off as I stared, fixated on one corner of the picture. Everywhere I looked for any length of time, something slowly emerged from the mess and chaos that chilled me.
“Oh, it’s certainly dark and morose. That’s kind of what I like about it.” Sanja said between sips of champagne. “Well, ‘like’ isn’t the right word, but you know. I mean, it has a certain ‘something’.”
I started at Sanja. Was her desperation for infamy and wealth blinding her to this hideous panorama facing us?
In the corner that had been bothering me, the form of a creature gnawing on what looked like a large bone slowly formed out of the maelstrom of magenta.
I pointed at it. “Isn’t that someone, I mean, something eating, well, someone else?” I asked bluntly.
Sanja shook her head, her undulating earrings clattering as she did. “That? No, that’s the internal image of the starving artist eating the scraps from the table that feeds them.” She said confidently, “It’s a common trope.”
I nodded, unconvinced.
“I’ll agree that the use of colour is, is, out of this world.” I offered.
“Isn’t it to die for!” Said Sanja.
I stared at a blur of colour in the top middle of the canvas that had also been drawing my attention.
“This might sound stupid, Sanja, but it’s almost like… It’s almost like the artist has invented new colours here. There are combinations I’ve just not seen here before —“ I stopped short, laughing uncomfortably at how ridiculous my statement sounded.
“You know, you might be right…” Said Sanja, staring at the same patch as me, leaning in for a closer look, her glass tipping as she did, drops of champagne dripping to the floor. “I have to revise the press release and update the event invitation. I can see it now, ‘unknown artist invents new colour’. Can you imagine the publicity?” She turned back to me, her eyes wide with unbridled enthusiasm and specks of spittle forming on the edges of her lips.
“You’re going to exhibit this?” I asked.
“That is kind of the point of a gallery, June.” She said, shaking her head dismissively as she made her way to the phone on her desk. She casually dropped the champagne flute to the floor, where it smashed casually into small pieces at my feet.
My eyes returned to the picture as I heard her babbling maniacally in the background, my stomach filled with unplaceable dread.
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