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Post by NELL DOE DALE on Mar 9, 2012 16:15:42 GMT -5
 all the rowboats in the paintings THEY KEEP TRYING TO ROW AWAY AND THE CAPTAINS' WORRIED FACES STAY CONTROLLED AND STARING AT THE WAVES Nell tilted her head as she eyed the painting, stroking the beard she didn't have. "I feel as if this is an expression of the artist's peace within himself, as opposed to the outward struggle of society around himself and the quasi battle of classes in the Middle Ages," she said matter-of-factly, and her father quickly rebutted without looking at her. "It's Dürer. A portrait." She grinned at him and said, "Now, now, I'm studying literature, which means everything has to have a deeper meaning." Of course she was doing this just to troll him, and he was well aware of that fact. One of her goals in life now was to get him to laugh, even just a little bit. Sometimes she felt like she got close, but his eyes remained flat and his lips straight. Nell ran her hand down her dress, straw hat in the other. She didn't often wear them, but she had to look nice. And besides, she wore a bathing suit underneath as she always did during the summer. She did want to go swimming today, after all. But she had been easily roped into going to the museum with her father. Nell was a sucker for culture, and he knew that. It was one of the only ways he could get her to spend time with him.
She continued to walk around, lightly hopping as if excited, the criss-crosses of her sandals digging into her feet. There were quite a few portraits in here, and she tried to find some new ones she'd never seen before. Finding a Van Gogh on one of the walls, lights shining down, she felt very pleased. "Do you like Van Gogh?" she asked the lady standing before it, always wanting to start conversation with anyone she could. The lady smiled, and Nell was very happy that the people around here were so ready and willing to talk. She guessed it was the environment. She didn't even mind the pretentious folk that preached their interpretations of art as the correct ones. People were just interesting and unique like that, and she soaked it all in like the lights shining off the dried paint and sculptures. "Did you hear they're going to have a Kandinsky exhibit soon?" the woman said, and this just got Nell going. "You're kidding," she said with barely veiled excitement. "When's it going to be?" The woman gave her the information, and she waved as her husband pulled her away to look at another sculpture.
Nell continued to walk around, hat held in front of her and a pleasant smile adorning her face. She wondered where her father had gotten off to, but didn't worry too much. She wasn't a little kid that was going to get in trouble and get lost. He wasn't even her ride. It was strange, whenever she thought of their relationship, but she didn't mind it at all. It felt right, because she felt what she had told him was true. They both deserved a family after everything they had seen and been through. After getting a drink at the water fountain, she took her phone out of the pocket the dress thankfully had and looked through the contacts. She found Ayden's name, and remembered that he would very much enjoy this. "I'm at the museum of art, you should come out. Might go swimming after. :]" She hadn't seen him in a spell of time, so she would love to catch up with him and get his opinion on a few of the paintings. Of course, he'd have to find her first. The place was huge, and the reason she chose to wander without aim was because she was lost. Or rather, in her eyes, on an adventure.
all the galleries and museums "HERE'S YOUR TICKET, WELCOME TO THE TOMBS." THEY'RE JUST PUBLIC MAUSOLEUMS, THE LIVING DEAD FILL EVERY ROOM |
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Post by ayden on Mar 11, 2012 20:46:39 GMT -5
 
Yelling had been happening all night, and most of the morning. Living in the house of his aunt had been hell for the past few months. With his sister being married, the couple thought it would be lovely to argue all day and night over the stupidest things. Ayden mostly stayed in his room with his ipod shoved in his ears to drowned out the noise of everyone. Even the maids tried to avoid his sister and her husband. Because of their arguing Ayden had gotten a lot of painting done, and had even managed to write a few songs. The songs were mainly about the ‘happy’ couple down stairs. Out of curiosity, Ayden took out his headphones to here what they were yelling about. In all honesty, Ayden was surprised his aunt hadn’t kicked the two out yet. Then again Skyla had been Marcy’s favorite since before Ayden was born. It didn’t bother him much that his aunt didn’t pay any attention to him, it was better that way. Skyla obviously needed it more than he did; sometimes it was like she was still a child. Ayden listened closely to what was being said, and from what he could tell it was on who had did the dishes last. Technically, the maid was suppose to do the dishes, but Ayden and Skyla still had chores they needed to do. That just meant doing the dishes once every week, and making sure their bathrooms and bedrooms were clean. To Ayden, that was simple. To Skyla, that was torture.
Ayden got the feeling it wasn’t going to be a peaceful day, so he went back to his painting. He had All Time Low on repeat, but was still lacking some muse for the painting in front of him. He wasn’t sure what it was suppose to be, but he like to think that creativity will hit him if he stared at the painting long enough. Ayden let his blue eyes wander over the colors in front of him. He had decided for this project that he would only use shades of green, blue, and purple. He wasn’t sure what he would make out of those colors, but he did enjoy a challenge every once in a while. He dipped his brush in a light green, and began to paint on the board he set out. Ayden had just really began to get into the painting when Marcy burst through his door. Ayden gave her a frustrated look, and yanked out his earphones. “Can I help you?
[/color]” Marcy knew he didn’t like to be interrupted when he was painting or drawing. It messed up the whole mood. Marcy narrowed her eyes at him, and pointed for him to get downstairs. Now, Ayden wasn’t one to grumble or say things that would make someone angry at him, but Marcy was really starting to rub him the wrong way. He was almost eighteen, and he was tired of her treating him like a child. It wasn’t like he didn’t do the chores she asked him to do. It wasn’t like he didn’t do anything. He did things, so when Marcy came barging into his room, Ayden was furious. He’d have to start over again, and he hated to do that. Once he was down stairs, he let his blue eyes land on his aunt, and fixed her with an icy glare. “ Oh, quit looking at me like that. You need to get out of the house. I’m tired of you staying in that room,[/color]” she told him while rummaging through the cabinet. Ayden looked at her with an appalled look. Marcy shrugged, and Ayden started to go back up stairs. When he got back, he checked his phone to see that he had missed a text from Nell. Ayden grinned at the phone. Ah, Nell. Ayden grabbed a fresh shirt, and threw on some shorts then went down stairs to grab his keys. “ I’m going out, I’ll be back whenever,[/color]” he shouted to no one in particular. He jumped in his car, and drove towards the art museum. He hadn’t been to the museum in a while, and was excited to go back. Call him a nerd, but it was a passion of his. Ayden parked his car, and sent to Nell, “ I’m here, meet you by Van Gogh?” Van Gogh was one of his favorite artist, and he always visited his work first. [/blockquote][/blockquote][/justify][/blockquote] ___________________________________________________ |
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Post by NELL DOE DALE on Mar 11, 2012 21:16:49 GMT -5
all the rowboats in the paintings THEY KEEP TRYING TO ROW AWAY AND THE CAPTAINS' WORRIED FACES STAY CONTROLLED AND STARING AT THE WAVES Nell had decided to wander around a little, looking at the paintings, sculptures in their glass cases, some on display. There was always the temptation to reach out and touch them, just for the thrill, even though the thick red ropes warned museum goers from doing such a thing. And she respected rules. Most of the time. She couldn't help some of her reckless behavior, especially now that she had a little more freedom. She was still going through naturalization, but as long as she didn't get convicted of a crime, she'd be good. And she didn't plan on getting into any big trouble. She had had enough of that. Her life as a fugitive was one she didn't want to return to, it was living in fear of every siren heard, every policeman, every light in the rear view mirror. Nell preferred her status in limbo right now, waiting for her visa so she could become a legal citizen. She wouldn't miss being an American much. She still had her accent to prove that she came from New York, but America had never really been her home. This was her new home. She had a family, one that she made herself. She thought of the movie she watched with her kids in daycare. This is my family. I found it, all on my own. Is little, and broken, but still good. Yeah, still good. She found that she could feel for the little blue alien, she understood him. That movie moved her, and she thought that maybe she felt too much sometimes.
She was looking at a Braque, her head tilted to the side in observation, when she felt the vibration in her pocket. It was a return text from Ayden, and she looked up from the screen and around the hall she stood in. Oh crap. Nonetheless, she texted him back that she was on her way. She'd been around the Van Goghs only minutes earlier, but she was skilled in getting herself lost. Now it wasn't so much a journey as it was an obstacle course to go and reach her friend. She breathed in deep, starting on her way. She tried to use the statuettes as landmarks, whitewashed faces, eyes without irises, togas slipping off smooth shoulders... Unfamiliar. She recognized some paintings, but she couldn't decided whether it was from memory of reproductions or from seeing them in here. Abstract lines and splashes, muted portraits, flags flying over dead bodies and where in the world was she now? She was hoping that Van Gogh would call out to her somehow, that his sunflowers would appear from the corner of her eye, all threaded with color. Dead people could still send signs, right? Wasn't that why Christopher was on those little pendants, like the one that her father had given to her as a gift for her engagement? One didn't have to be canonized to live on, or at least in her mind. She wasn't very spiritual, didn't put much thought toward a life after death. She was much too focused on life.
She believed it was mere luck when she found the jet-black head of hair through a crowd of some other people. She headed over to him, and was quick with apologies. "I'm sorry for taking so long, I was over by the Braque's and...god, I don't even know where that was." If she had found the gift shop they probably had maps there, but that wasn't much help when you were already lost. "I'm glad you came. It was getting boring all alone, I need someone to share in art criticism, you know." It was fun with her father, but they had wandered away from each other, and they were always wandering, they were always apart. But they would come back, eventually, because they were all each other had of blood. "So how are you?" she asked cheerfully, brushing a strand of brown hair away from her matching eyes. She linked her arm through his and nodded to the painting. "And what do you think of Mr. Van Gogh's use of brushstrokes?" It was said rather facetiously, but she believed that Ayden would certainly have an opinion. He was an artist, after all, and she only had a really third-person perspective. She didn't see the world in form and shadow, could only really doodle when she attempted anything. Maybe that was why she admired those of culture so much.
all the galleries and museums "HERE'S YOUR TICKET, WELCOME TO THE TOMBS." THEY'RE JUST PUBLIC MAUSOLEUMS, THE LIVING DEAD FILL EVERY ROOM |
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Post by ayden on Mar 23, 2012 22:17:15 GMT -5
It didn’t take terribly long to get to the museum. It helped that Ayden drove like a bat out of hell, but still. His motto was if you didn’t get caught, it shouldn’t matter. He definatly needed this time to get out, and just be with friends. It would be nice to get out of that hollering match box they call a house. “More like a mansion of screams.” Ayden thought to himself on the drive there. He hated what had become of his dear sister, and her oh so lovely husband. Ayden knew that they’d be marrying too young, and it would end in divorce. But no, no one wanted to listen to the genius of the family. Ayden had even laid out the statistics for Skyla, but she just ignored him. She had claimed it was love, and that nothing would come between her and be loved. Oh how wrong Skyla had been. Ayden had been right, as usual. Now, Ayden got to hear the cries of his sister, which was something no brother wanted to hear. It took everything in his power not to march downstairs some days, and beat the man who claimed to love his sister. Of course, it most likely wouldn’t end well for Ayden. Ayden was barely one hundred and fifty pounds. Skyla’s husband was like a linebacker, and could easily take out the artist with a swift backhand. The thought made Ayden grip the wheel of his baby even more. He didn’t need to be thinking of that though. He needed to think of what happy times he was going to have hanging out with Nell today. Nell could always cheer him up with her happiness, and never boring ways.
If there was one thing he could count on, it was a good time with Nell. She just had this way of making him feel better, and he could use all the cheering up she’s got to give. Ayden had mad respect for the girl, and her fiancée, though he didn’t talk much with him. To be perfectly honest, the kid scared the shit out of Ayden. Not that Ayden would ever admit that to anyone, but it was the truth. Ayden would hate to get on the guys bad side, and feared for anyone who did. Something told Ayden that he had some bad mojo, and wasn’t afraid to use it when he needed too. Of course, like father like son, right? Ayden’s aunt knew of Josh’s father, so she told Ayden a little about him. She didn’t know much cause she had been a bit younger than him, but rumors could spread even to the younger kids. According to Marcy, Josh’s dad could be a scary guy, but Ayden didn’t worry too much about it. He doubted Josh wanted anything to do with a little old Wind boy like him.
Ayden raised a brow at the girl, and gave a slight chuckle. “Don’t sweat it, tiny one.
[/color]” Ayden gave her pat on the shoulder. He would’ve pat her head, but it seemed that a rather large hat blocked his hand from connecting to her head. He gave a light frown at the hat, then said, “ You know me, always up for criticizing the art of someone who’s dead, and hanging around the most awesome girl.[/color]” Ayden glanced down as she linked her arm through his, and he gave a slight smile. He refused to blush at the simple gesture, but the truth was he wasn’t use to linking arms with a girl, but thankfully Nell never made it feel awkward. “ Oh, I’m great. A bit sleep deprived, but other than that, I’m great.[/color]” All true. Ayden just left off the part about the newly weds always arguing. Ayden knew that Josh and Nell were engaged, and he didn’t want to worry her. Though, some people, like Nell and Josh, would do well to get married. He believed they balanced each other well. Like when white and black mix to make the shade of grey. That’s how Ayden viewed their relationship; a clash of colors making something brilliant. “ How are you?[/color]” He asked her while taking a look at the picture. Ayden examined it quietly, looking at the strokes, and coloring Van Gogh used. He had seen this painting numerous times, and still loved it. The starry night painting had always been his favorite of Van Gogh. He glanced down at Nell, and smiled. “ His brush strokes are exquisite actually. Quite brilliant for a mad man, if I do say so myself. The way he captures the stars, and makes them to a swirl. I love it. He had a way about his paintings that make me think he saw the universe differently than the normal human sees it.[/color]” Ayden turned to look at Nell with a smile on his face. “ What do you think?[/color]” He was such a nerd when it came to talking about paintings, and he was glad to have been invited, and share this with her. [/blockquote][/blockquote][/justify][/blockquote] ___________________________________________________ |
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Post by NELL DOE DALE on Mar 25, 2012 1:19:07 GMT -5
all the rowboats in the paintings THEY KEEP TRYING TO ROW AWAY AND THE CAPTAINS' WORRIED FACES STAY CONTROLLED AND STARING AT THE WAVES She rolled her eyes when he patted her arm, dubbed her the 'tiny one'. All in affection. She had a bit of a Napoleon complex, mostly when she felt insignificant and tiny, a blip on the radar. "It's thrilling isn't it," she said mischievously when he told her how he just loved criticizing old people's work. She looked furtively around, before her brown gaze met his again. "Were you expecting an awesome girl?" She nudged him with an arm, her bangs veiling her eyes. When they did that, it always gave her an air of mystery, like she was hiding something. "I could bugger off, if you are." She pointed her thumb behind her, pulling his leg. Observing art with her father was enjoyable, but with her friend it was better. She wouldn't have to troll him as much, and there wouldn't be that undercurrent of eternal silence that never seemed to vanish between the father and daughter duo.
She flicked the obscuring bangs from her eyes, and turned to him. "School or something? Coffee is always good. Or those little five-hour energy drinks." A lot of people thought they tasted nasty, but she had never found a taste she did not enjoy. However, she only tried it once, when she had work and immediately after went to a party with her friend. The crash wasn't worth it. "You have to guess," she told him, holding up two fingers. Two words, classic charade. Then she held up one, and another. One letter. She drew an 'S' in the air with her finger. The next word, three letters. Pointed to a painting nearby, at a bird. Super fly. She wondered if he'd guess how she was doing. It was more fun that way.
Nell waited quietly, one hand resting on the arm she had linked her own through. She wondered what went through his head. Artists like him always saw in form, in shape and shadow. They saw the world differently than say, an engineer. But everyone's way of thinking had some kind of beauty to it. After he spoke, she gave a soft humming sound in her throat. "All artists are mad," she said with a fluid chuckle, water running through rocks. "You don't become an artist unless there's necessity, right?" Maybe Van Gogh needed to paint to cope with his insanity. He had been institutionalized when he painted his magnum opus. The greatest minds in the world had craters, gaps. Newton and Virginia Woolf, Tolstoy and Keats, Tchaikovsky and Michelangelo. Maybe they couldn't handle the minds they had, the greatness there. Maybe people weren't supposed to be born that beautifully. Ayden could understand that, he was an artist. It wasn't a want, but a need. She only imitated art, folded paper, doodled in the margins of notes.
And what did she think? "From a technical standpoint...there's a lot of movement. In the sky, and in the curves of the structure." She shifted her feet, noticed little things. The points of the roofs, the hills like waves in the background, the too-bright moon. "It's different from his other paintings." She said it as if realizing it for the first time. "He painted it from memory, instead of his usual method of actually sitting outside to observe. Maybe he painted how he was feeling, not what he saw." The original was in a museum at New York, and she wished that she could have had the chance to see it while she lived there. Nell tugged at his arm, "There's so much to see. Unless you wanna blow through quickly and hit the beach?" She'd been through the museum several times, the art like old friends. Every time she saw something different, something new. Art may have been permanent in form, but not in observation.
all the galleries and museums "HERE'S YOUR TICKET, WELCOME TO THE TOMBS." THEY'RE JUST PUBLIC MAUSOLEUMS, THE LIVING DEAD FILL EVERY ROOM |
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Post by ayden on Mar 25, 2012 18:37:43 GMT -5
Ayden glanced down at Nell, and shook his head at her mischievous grin. She was something else, that’s for sure. Always managing to put a grin on his face, and get him into some sort of trouble. “Yes, it definatly is thrilling. Luckily they aren’t alive to hunt us down, and shake their old fists at us,
[/color]” he said with a grin. That would be quite the site, and he had a feeling Nell would get a lot of fist shaking from old people. “ Of course I’m expecting an awesome girl. Why else would I drive all the way here?[/color]” He gave her a serious look before smiling again. Ayden raised his black brow before saying, “ You wouldn’t dare bugger away from me, Ms. Shepard. We have paintings to look at and judge.[/color]” Ayden loved looking at paintings, but it could be quite boring when he was alone. The only time he really enjoyed looking at a painting alone was when he was feeling stressed, and just wanted to get away from the world. He usually would come to the museum when he knew it wouldn’t be busy, and he could just stare at a painting for hours, and not be disturbed. He watched as she flicked her bangs back, and just stared for a moments. “ Skyla and her husband have been at each others throat for the past few weeks. It’s not easy to sleep anymore,[/color]” he said with a small smile. Ayden wasn’t terribly worried about it, but it was annoying at times. He just wanted some peace and quiet, and he knew it wasn’t too terrible to ask for. They could argue somewhere else if they really wanted to. Say like their own freaking house, but noooo. Marcy insisted they stay with her in the mansion. Ayden didn’t mind it at first because he figured it was normal couple stuff, but after the first month of arguing it had become a nuisance. “ I could drink coffee, it’s just a matter of finding it in the cabinets.[/color]” He smiled kindly at Nell. She was always full of bright little ideas. Ayden watched as she started to spell out how she was. He raised a brow, but watched as she did so. Ayden was pretty sure she was crazy. “ Super fly?[/color]” He asked her, unsure. He was pretty positive that’s what she was saying, but he could’ve been wrong. Ayden knew that most artists were mad, but he liked to believed he had a sane head on his shoulders. He was sure that he seemed mad to other people, but in his mind he wasn’t crazy. Though he was pretty sure only crazy people said they were crazy. Oh well. If he was crazy, then he was crazy. Ayden shrugged, then said, “ Depends on why they’re mad. Some were born mad, then other’s driven to madness. I’m almost positive Van Gogh was born mad.[/color]” Some people don’t know that they will become artists, but life drives them to that point. Ayden knew when he was younger that he wanted to be an artist, that’s why he picked up on the musical part of life, then as he got older it expanded into painting and photography. Though he was pretty sure his paintings were not driven by madness, but by inspiration of landscapes and people. Ayden, suddenly feeling the need to ask, turned to Nell, and asked, “ Can I be your photographer at your wedding? You wouldn’t have to pay, I would just love to take them.[/color]” A blush crept up to his cheeks after asking. It was such a random question, and not like him to blurt out such a question. Maybe he really was mad. His blue eyes watched as she talked about the technical standards and structures of Van Gogh’s painting. She was right, there was a lot of movement in this painting, and Ayden was sure that was why it was his favorite. “ I agree. I think he might have taken this from a memory, and painted it. Maybe he saw it before he painted or ran out of paints, then painted it later.[/color]” Ayden stared at the painting, and almost wished he could paint something like that. He wasn’t much into colors like that; he preferred to paint a landscape in black and white, with shades of grey. Maybe a fleck of colors here and there to make something stand out, and catch the eye. Ayden looked down to Nell, and nodded. “ Sounds like a plan to me, tiny one. What do you want to look at next?[/color]” He asked her. [/blockquote][/blockquote][/justify][/blockquote] ___________________________________________________ |
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Post by NELL DOE DALE on Mar 25, 2012 21:01:28 GMT -5
all the rowboats in the paintings THEY KEEP TRYING TO ROW AWAY AND THE CAPTAINS' WORRIED FACES STAY CONTROLLED AND STARING AT THE WAVES Nell didn't think she could ever be a good critic, she didn't have it in her to be super critical. Then she remembered the outliers, her family, who she could verbally assault with the worst things. She was a child when she argued in the way that she was brutally honest about things that she knew would hurt. Dead people couldn't defend themselves, though. "We can handle a couple of old coots," she said with certainty. At the mention of expecting a girl, she mocked offense. "Oh, I knew it! For shame! Woe is me!" She waved a hand in front of her face, and the breeze was awfully refreshing. The museum had central air like most other buildings, but the atmosphere still felt heavy. "Fine, fine, I'll judge paintings with you," she sighed, a pout on her lips. Definitely better than her father. Would the man be upset that she still didn't know if she liked him much? No, she believed that he probably thought the same way about her. He got the worst of her, and so he only knew her as a problem child. She didn't know if she could say anything to change that, or if she even wanted to.
Nell's smile was wan. "Honeymoon phase is over, I guess," she said, remembering him talking about the wedding. "It'll get better once they get used to it. Meanwhile I have a friend whose sleep-deprived because her sister snores. I suggested plugs in her nose." She nodded certainly, as if that was a good idea. She was sure that the couple wouldn't be arguing forever. That seemed impossible, but maybe some people could manage it. She didn't like to argue, and thankfully she never did Josh. There were only a couple of times worth mentioning. Well, not worth mentioning, because she'd rather not remember the time she'd accused him of cheating. "Do your cabinets lead to Narnia...?" she questioned, canting her head to the side. Ayden was definitely an interesting person, and she liked hearing about his life and was going on with him. She snapped her fingers when he got it and said, "Yes, quite fly indeed."
Nell nodded as he spoke, as if she could only take in the information if she did so. Driven to madness? She didn't like the idea of that. She didn't like the idea of madness in general, not when it came to herself. Her family was full of brilliant minds, brilliant and disturbed. "Probably," she said with an amused upper tone in her voice. "He was born to be an artist, then." And a good thing, too, because she was positive the world would be a different place without people like Van Gogh, who made an impact with his life and his art. The question seemed rather random, and she lifted her eyebrows, glanced at him with a grin. "Yeah, of course," Nell said. She was pretty sure Josh would have no qualms about it. "And we'll pay you, too." That was something she was positive about. He'd be working, after all. "Of course, we don't really have plans for the wedding yet." Most everything was left up in the air. They were young, too young at this point. Wedding plans didn't occupy her mind now. She heard that every girl planned their wedding from the time they were little, but she never even considered the possibility, really.
Nell imagined Van Gogh looking out the window of his asylum, viewing the town below. Is that really what he saw? Was it what he yearned for? What he felt? "He was in a sanatorium at Saint-Remy," she explained to him. It was more of a fact that he painted it from memory. "I guess he was too tired to paint it at night. Or maybe he rather wanted to try something different. Or...you know, the patients couldn't have paints in their room." It was a little bit of a joke, even though it disturbed her to think of places like that. Unnerving. She tugged on his arm, wrinkled her nose. "You know what? You need a nickname." She pursed her lips in thought. "...Meanie one." Yeah, she wasn't very good with the insults. She tried, at least. "I know Kandinsky's around. They're having an exhibit for him soon, I heard." He was one of her favorites, she rather liked abstracts. She led the way, and then admitted, "...Uh, I think I need a map or something."
all the galleries and museums "HERE'S YOUR TICKET, WELCOME TO THE TOMBS." THEY'RE JUST PUBLIC MAUSOLEUMS, THE LIVING DEAD FILL EVERY ROOM |
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