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Post by kenna1 on Nov 6, 2012 0:40:34 GMT -5
Thunderstorms: its rage and dangerous force of nature; the mass amount of raindrops pelting the land; the howling of the wind ripping through the air... The strikes of gold flashing through the air with lightning, crackling, sending vibrations and hot air through the atmosphere to cause the exploding resounding noise and rumble of thunder. They can comfort us, relax us, excite us, scare us, shoot fear into our hearts and souls; help us sleep, keep us awake, make us sad, make us happy, accelerate our heartbeats. Jessie could remember as a little, she could sit there at the window, her heart rate speeding up in excitement building from the knowledge that a storm was coming, hearing the rumble of the thunder in the sky starting, building up the storm that would hit soon. Seeing the flashes of light strike through the air, scaring her at first, but amazing her with the colors and shapes it would make. Then watching the rain as it would hit the glass, seeing the drops roll down her bedroom window, creating sparkling diamonds.
Jessie use to be able to sit there and watch for hours, being soothed by its sounds and colors. Calming her, relaxing her, or even matching her mood sometimes if she was mad or upset with her parents. She remembered how when she first moved to North America, that thunderstorms would keep her awake, but then slowly became something to comfort her and put the girl into a deep sleep. She’d drift to sleep staring out of the thick wall of glass, watching as the rain pelted against it, forming the most soothing sound. The rain and the lightening were a perfect fit. Their beauty out shining all, their dangerous and powerful forces of nature that could destroy.
The only noise in the room was the steady drum of the rain outside against the windowpane and the incessant hum of students out in the hall. All potential students Jessie could have in this very room next year. The thought alone excited her, sending a giant chill down her spine. Jessie shook it out, jumping in place despite her crazy shoe choice. The new term didn’t start for another two months, but Jessie had just relocated back to Maple Hollow and was dying to see where she would be working for the New Year. The minute she got the last box of her junk shipped to her new apartment, she grabbed her keys and made her way back to the Academy. In some ways, the place seemed so similar, but as she walked past the students she felt a great swell of pride. No longer was she roaming the halls getting to class. She was the one who would be enriching their minds with the joy of culture!
She stood in the empty classroom, an ‘art studio’ as the lettering on the door had informed her. It was equipped with a few easels, paints of every color imaginable smeared on the framework, scattered stools, a lone pottery wheel, and even smaller kiln lay before her in the rather tight room. The facility was not generous, but by the time Jessie was through with it, it would be a welcoming creative environment. Tucked away to the side of the room was a rather beat up wooden desk, presumably setup to host the teacher during the class period. Quite ceremoniously, Jessie lifted her legs up onto the flat surface and crossed her legs. Jessie threw her hands up in the air, snapping along to a melody in her head as she belted out to the world, ”Hey there sexy lady with your legs on the table!” Not a number one hit by any means, but it was just the right tune to put a huge smile on her face.
Here's a little sneak peek at Jessie before the new term starts
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Post by ROWENA AUDREY BENNETT on Nov 7, 2012 22:28:46 GMT -5
She could not explain the feeling in her gut as she held the test in her hands. A pass. She breathed a sigh of relief, slow and steady. It had meant begging to retake the test (leaving out how she'd mostly failed by copying the answers from someone that didn't know what they were doing) but she now had a second shot at graduating. Now I just need to pass the exam. Ugh. Maybe she would have to ask Altair to help her study. Studying was what she'd had to do with the test, an effort she wasn't used to making. Still, she'd made it. It wasn't the highest mark in the world, only in the sixties, but it was better than a fail. Anything was better than a fail.
Of course, knowledge that she needed to study for the exam didn't mean that she had any immediate plans to do so. Instead of heading for the library as she probably should have, Rowena shouldered her bag and headed down a hall leading in the opposite direction. It led to the block of art classrooms and Rowena knew of quite a few that weren't being used for the year. She liked to use the easels for painting and generally enjoyed the quiet solitude of the disused rooms. As a Thunder, Rowena wasn't the biggest fan of crowds. She didn't owe any work for her art class, it was one of her best courses, but she enjoyed art enough that she liked to paint and design things outside of a classroom setting.
She was not expecting anyone to be in the room that she had chosen as her favourite. No one was ever in that room. They had touched it up and she'd heard rumours that it would be put back to use in the new year but until then she figured it would stay her own little safe haven. What she'd expected even less was for the intruder to be belting out the lyrics to what Rowena assumed was a song. She paused in the doorway and stared at the woman for a long moment, assessing the situation and trying to figure out what she wanted to do about it. "Who are you?" The woman looked like she was either a teacher or a college student but Rowena didn't bother to be polite. Instead her tone was blunt and almost demanding, her accent flooding the syllables.
She leaned against the frame of the door and played with the strap of her bag as she contemplated her next move. She could have just left but that felt like her space was being violated. This was where she always practised. She'd also laid a private claim to one of the music rooms that contained a keyboard so that she could practice her piano. The girl knew they really didn't belong to her but she felt possessive nonetheless. "And what were you singing?" That seemed to be another important question. She'd figure out what to do about the lack of expected solitude in a minute.
[Just a warning -- Ro muse is rusty! I don't know her as well as Rin and Josh and she doesn't get much so I apologise if my posts are kinda awkward until I get warmed up <3]
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Post by kenna1 on Nov 8, 2012 1:03:23 GMT -5
As if a shock of lightening zapped her, Jessie swung her legs off the table and bounced up to confront her visitor. Hardly able to contain her excitement and surprise Jessie clapped her hands together before pointing towards the girl. Who cares if pointing was rude, the voice totally took Jessie back to the streets of her true home. ”Would you look at that! And I thought I had this place all sussed out. It’s like I’m rolling with my mandem! Uh!” With a bit of flare she puffed her chest out and brushed her shoulders off. Who was she kidding? Jessie felt straight hood right now. She certainly wasn’t expecting anyone to have a similar accent. Granted, Jessie’s was a pretty distinctive Essex’s accent, one that had taken against the proper and prim one her family had. Pronouncing their damn ‘t’s and such as if they were proper London folk. The accent had sort of shifted from her time living with her mates back in they dingy neighborhood. ”Who am I? Who are you?” Wasn’t this supposed to be one of the abandoned studios?
She tossed her head back and for forth a few times, her accessories clanking together from the sudden movement. ”I’m not on one of those hidden camera programs am I?” Jessie held one hand on her hip while the other was held firm in front of her. ”Because when I’m scared my first reaction is to punch and I will not be held accountable for the damage.” The volume of her voice had risen a bit, warning anyone else who might be hiding in the room. She had built this idea up so much now and was too busy checking the ceiling for some sort of hidden cameras. ”And it should be known that I have a lot of rings on. I will jack you up!” With as much creditability as she could muster, Jessie began jabbing the open space like she was some karate master. The more she thought about it though the less sense it made to even her. No one knew she was going to be here so there couldn’t have been a setup. Plus wouldn’t this ‘plant’ have tried a little harder to get Jessie to make a fool of herself? Well…
Jessie straightened her posture and tucked at the end of her denim vest. With a good laugh at herself she fixed her bangs before settling down. ”Look at me, jabbering away about nonsense that probably isn’t true. You’re probably standing there thinking this teacher is crazy, yeah?’ Her face light up even more at the mentioning of the word teacher. She had said it a few times before, but being at the Academy made the choice even more real. Well, she still had two months before she could officially start teaching. ”I mean, you never know with all those Punk shows and crazy YouTube videos.” It had probably less than a minute but Jessie had already forgotten that she was the one to even suggest the whole crazy notion. Still, it didn’t stop her from casting one more wary glance towards one of the ceiling corners. ”That little number I was singing? That’s Jessie Yates new number one instant single. And by instant I mean completely off the top of my head, right now! All I need is a dope beat and some sexy disco lights and they’ll be blasting it on radios everywhere.” She pumped her fist and began to rock her hips to a beat she was dropping. ”Probably needs more than just one line, but whatever.” Her mouth opened as if she was going to say something else, but she shut it once she realized she had about twenty different scattered thoughts just dying to get out. ”Wait…who are you again?”
That's okay, Jessie is completely new to me, so her muse is like an infant...with ADD
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Post by ROWENA AUDREY BENNETT on Nov 8, 2012 5:36:22 GMT -5
Rowena's first reaction to the unexpected accent was to blink in surprise, her brain processing the shock as the woman hopped off of the desk and came toward her. The Thunder elemental did not smile or bother to look like the least bit welcoming but there was a stirring of home in that voice and it reminded her of how much she missed Britain, missed feeling like she belonged. Syria had been alive back then and everything had been better. Except it hadn't been, for she'd nearly gotten in trouble with the law and they'd been forced to relocate. She pushed the unwanted memories back, hating how such a simple thing as a voice could bring them all flooding back. There was no outward reaction, her expression impassive.
She might have answered the flood of chatter and question if she'd been given much of a chance to breathe but as Jessie babbled on, Rowena merely settled for looking disinterested and watching the woman with increasing disdain. She was rambling about nothing the Thunder girl knew or cared about. "What?" The stranger was babbling on about hidden cameras and it was all the blonde could do to follow the conversation. Then, just as quickly, she was being threatened. Her jaw shifted and she wondered if she'd be able to take the woman in a fight. She'd sure as hell try. Changing moods yet again like shifting the gears of a bike, the teacher—as she'd called herself—hit the nail right on the head. "You're a real nutter," she agreed, almost disappointed by this revelation. One of the few Brits from the school and she had to be off her head, didn't she? The Thunder suppressed a sigh.
The blonde shook her head, deciding that she really didn't care about the song if it was nothing she'd recognise. Rowena didn't care about a lot of things besides fashion, art, and her sister. She also cared deeply for her rabbit, Silk. It was the only creature she'd ever felt bring out her soft side. Dogs were too messy and cat fur got everywhere. Plus, their meowing was obnoxious. Silk was quiet like Ro herself. "Name's Rowena." She didn't have to give out her name if she didn't want to but she decided against being elusive or cryptic. It was just a name.
That Jessie was a teacher (or a professor, potentially, but she looked too young for that in Rowena's opinion) did not phase her as she asked flatly, "So what're you doing here?" She didn't recognise the woman from any of the classes she'd been to or passed in the hallways. Did she teach something obscure that only a small population of the planet cared out? Those types annoyed her. A lot of things did. "I came here to work on some things." She nodded toward the easels. Would the woman be content to leave her in peace so that she could get to creating the art she so wanted to or would she insist on being a pest? Was she one of the detention happy types? Ugh. I bloody well hope not. She'd gotten detention more times than she could count in the past year. The second semester was almost over but there was still this last month to go. She didn't need her record getting any higher. She usually just sketched in detention anyway but she didn't like being surrounded by other people.
[Thunders are so quiet .-. -kicks her-]
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Post by kenna1 on Nov 8, 2012 18:24:22 GMT -5
Jessie expected to at least get some sort of laugh out of the girl, maybe even a nervous chuckle. ”It was funnier than you acted,” It did her heart good to hear a fellow Brit. If only her sister would return her phone call. She just arrived back on campus and she was eager to reconnect after six years of not seeing her. Scarlett probably wouldn’t go around in the same social circles of this young girl. Opinionated for sure, but nothing she hadn’t overcome during her days of pontificating in art forums. ”A Nutter?” It was always the same when she met people. Crazy, loony, nuts, mad, she had heard it all. Little girl was going to have to try harder to even make a dent in Jessie’s self-esteem. ”One person’s craziness is another person’s reality.” What were they teaching in this place? Teen angst was running wild in these halls. Perfect for art, terrible for social skills.
”Ro-wena,” she let the name roll of her tongue as if she was testing it out. Rowena was not a name she heard often. Unlike the common name of Jessica her borning ass parents came up with. Two Ph.Ds between the both of them in literature and the geniuses think of Jessica? Honestly those two were an enigma. At one point in her life she debated a name change, back when she was pretty bleak on the whole art career and offered some crap job serving up food to little kids in school. Maybe something crazy like ‘Tunafish the Lunch Lady” The little kids would probably love a lady named Tunafish. Oh God, she needed to tweet that out to her fans. She almost reached for her phone, but remembered she was not alone. ”I’m scoping out the place. Getting a better look at what I’ve got to work with. I’m teaching art for a bit come January, though I’m hoping to steer it a bit more towards fine arts rather than bullshit little arts and craft hour for kids to get easy A’s,”
Wait…what had she just said? ”Oh my God, I just said bullshit…again… I’m a teacher now, I probably can’t go around saying that right?” she asked Rowena. Gosh this was going to like a complete lifestyle change. This wasn’t like hanging out with her mates. She had to set an example and all that jazz. Was there some sort of rulebook she could get on this? Who was she kidding, Jessie wouldn’t follow some rulebook even if there was one. Not in art marking and not in the classroom. ”No way,” Jessie pointed back and forth from Rowena to the easel. What luck! Jessie wanders in and finds someone who is willing to do art even in her downtown. There was hope in her new adventure! Her shoes clicked against the floor as she went to exam the easel in question. ”So where you working on something already or starting off fresh?” So many questions to ask Rowena. What kind of paint was she using, who did she draw inspiration from, what sort of subject matter did she enjoy, Abstract tendencies or realism?
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Post by ROWENA AUDREY BENNETT on Nov 11, 2012 1:42:51 GMT -5
As someone who was neither easily amused nor sociable, it could be quite difficult to make Rowena laugh or even smile unless you were a close friend. Her blue eyes were cool and disinterested as she raised her eyebrows at the woman. "Whatever." She didn't find it very amusing at all but she wasn't in the mood to argue her point. Was it really a point at all? It was an opinion, no more and no less. Perhaps she should have been a little more soft with her words, a little less willing to whip out crazy as an insult but no matter how much of her mind Syria had been losing before her death, Rowena refused to acknowledge it. She preferred to remember the Water elemental as a bright and cheerful girl, the girl she'd been before things went downhill. She wasn't sure how to respond to the comment. Yours, you mean, she thought scathingly, but ended up merely blinking and looking unimpressed. It was clear she hadn't changed her opinion about Jessie.
The triplets all had strange names and sometimes Rowena wondered what it was their parents were thinking when they came up with them. She'd never been teased about it but it prompted a roll of her eyes whenever the teacher pronounced it wrong during the attendance list. The 'nutter' went on to explain her reasons for being in the room and the Thunder elemental was not sure how to handle the news. She's going to be teaching art next year? Great. The sarcasm rang through her thoughts. Least I won't be around to suffer through it. Needless to say that Jessie hadn't made the greatest of first impressions on the highly judgemental Rowena. "And what exactly do you consider fine?" Oh, she knew what fine arts were—of course she did—but she wasn't sure what sorts Jessie was going to prefer teaching. Not that it'll affect me, not if I pass. She planned on it, passing that was. She would have been in college already if not for being held back not one but two years upon starting at the Academy. She didn't need to add a third.
She'd barely noticed the word until Jessie pointed it out herself. Cursing didn't bother the girl and so she scoffed, shaking your head. "We're not a bunch of three year olds," she said with disdain. "Not like they don't all say that and worse outside the classroom." Fuck and bitch and slut and all those other wonderful words basically became part of many a high schooler's vocabulary. For a lot of kids it happened even before then when sixth graders thought it was cool to start swearing every other word or little kids picked up the lingo from their parents. She'd never really seen the point of censorship. Curses were everywhere, why were people still paying attention to them?
She followed the path of Jessie's finger, that judgemental look on her features once again. "Does it look like there's anything there?" She shook her head. Was the woman blind as well as nuts? She wanted to be alone again but she figured that it would be a lot harder to find a spot as good as this one. A lot of the other rooms were in use and the teachers didn't like it when she moved things around. She'd gotten detention once simply for occupying an otherwise empty room. Apparently she wasn't supposed to be there. Why did they even care? It wasn't like she'd been doing any harm. "Starting fresh. Or I would be if I had some space." Subtle, wasn't she? Well, she wasn't the easiest person to get along with, that was for sure.
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Post by kenna1 on Nov 11, 2012 13:33:09 GMT -5
”I’m talking about some art with a little concept thrown in. Not too much to ask right? It’s time to steer away from those cutout magazine collages they made me do here and inject a little culture into this program,” Jessie had to remind herself that this was not a school meant for arts and that no one was really to blame. A feet that was impossible for her when she roamed the halls as a student. The Academy was a safe haven for the elementals and achieved the good deed of helping the confused teenagers control their powers. We couldn’t have a bunch of renegades out in the real world exposing them now could we? ”As much as it bores me I’ll have to start with some formal aspects of art. You know, the basic theories of form, color, perspective, a spot of art history here and there, blah, blah, blah.” How could she expect any wonderful results if she didn’t instill a little bit of structure and technical skill? ”Move on to the enhanced studies of craftsmanship so people can actually understand how to present their work.” Nothing got under her skin faster than walking around a gallery and seeing some rushed, sloppy, excuse of a finished piece. People were inventing here, and damn it they should take care and have a little pride. ”For the advance students I was thinking of helping them find their own direction. You could masterfully paint a landscape and have it look photo realistic and it will still be boring if all the thought you put into it was ‘I like the pretty colors.’ I will not have talented and dedicated students walk away from my class and be completely vapid and soulless.”
Jessie gasped in a mocking sort of surprise. ”You’re not?” she asked jokingly. With the way Rowena was acting, Jessie could have sworn she was dealing with a toddler with the terrible two’s. The angst coming from the girl was palpable. Jessie merely shrugged it off and offered Rowena a friendly smile. The artist was older than her and didn’t feel threatened by her cold demeanor. ”You could have been going for some edgy conceptual minimalism babe. A little nod to Duchamp never hurt anybody,” she teased. She took the blatant hint though and threw her hands up in truce. Jessie crossed to the other end of the room, calling out to Rowena as she retreated, ”Don’t mind me, I’ve got a bit of rummaging to do,” For the moment, she respected the girl’s need for space. As an artist she could understand the need for comfortable work environment, whatever the personal version of that was. She knew people who loved to have so many people in the room to bounce ideas off off, those who retreated to wide open studios filled with music, and then there were those who wanted no contact what so ever. Jessie found a mysterious looking wooden door that captured her attention for a bit.
She loved the escape; the solitude of art making. It was during those times when she was the other half of herself. Everyone knew and saw the overly hyper Jessie that could talk to all and shopped much. Few, very few, as in only her immediate art circles saw the serious side of Jessie. There were times when she tried everything in her control to avoid her manic outburst, when she needed to escape and for a little while be a "normal" human being. Jessie loved her crazy moments; they saved her life. If it wasn't for her glimpses into the bizarre genius of her sub conscious, when she awoke from a peculiar dream, found the way colors and concepts could create, where meaning meets vision, she wouldn't have ever seen a better way of life. It was that very first break that saved her, told her briefly what she was and how to survive in the harsh art world. Her visions saved herself as well. Had it not been for her larger than life persona she would have never been able to face the 'shame of her choices' that people loved to force onto her. Jessie’s gift was valued and appreciated by the art world even if her family turned their nose up at it.
She turned the handle on the door and looked in horror. It was a small closet with shelves filled with old art books. The spines were broken on many, as well as it looked as though someone filled with closet with water years ago. Jessie reluctantly tried to pry one of the books out only to see how outdated it was. Honestly? When was this closet last looked at? ”So Rowena, what would you say is the weakest area of study with the current art program?” she called out. One by one Jessie pulled crummy books, making piles on the floor. With the state some of these books were in, she wasn’t sure a library would even consider them for donations. ”I assume you must have some interest in arts if you wander into a vacant studio during your free time.” Jessie had done the same thing when she was at school. Most of her earlier pieces, which looked like complete crap to her now, had been dreamed up in a very similar fashion. Jessie was use to self direction and required little push from outside sources.
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Post by ROWENA AUDREY BENNETT on Nov 12, 2012 5:03:23 GMT -5
Apparently Jessie was pretty passionate when it came to her job. Even someone as detached and disinterested as Rowena could detect that, though whether or not it was appreciated remained to be seen. It was hard for the Thunder to get over her initial impression of a person and the art teacher hadn't made the greatest one. Still, that she had not yet turned on her heel and walked away suggested there was a chance. "It's a school for the elements, do you really think most people give a damn about the art program?" It was cynical and accompanied by a small smirk but in Rowena's opinion it was the truth. Once you reached college, or so the Thunder had heard, everything changed. Suddenly your classmates were those who wanted to be there and the professors had a lot more control and funding. If she'd been the sympathetic type she might have thus realised Jessie's dilemma and expressed regret for it but instead she simply shook her head. "Well good luck with whatever you're trying to do. Most of the pricks just take the class because it's 'easy'." The quotes were practically audible in her voice. She did not make it clear whether she was sincere about the well-wishes.
She wasn't very good with joking. It often took her a while to catch on and she was easily offended by things that weren't meant to be taken personally. She narrowed her eyes at Jessie and scrutinized her without a smile. "Are you trying to be funny?" A part of her almost hoped the woman was, sarcastic as her own question had been. She didn't like the idea of being compared to a toddler. Children irritated her. They cried and they kicked and they screamed and they drove the impatient and selfish woman up a wall. It was probably for the best that she didn't want any of her own.
She knew a flash of understanding as she recognised the name, the slightest hint of a smile tugging at her lips before it vanished. It was something, at least. "I'm not into the abstract shit." Oh, she knew the terms if she needed them for a test but she preferred to keep things simple. There was the portrayal of all things normal and sensible and then there were the clusterfucks of colours and shapes that many favoured. It wasn't that she didn't appreciate surrealism, it was that she didn't have the sort of mindset to create such works. She thought about it for a moment when Jessie seemed to unofficially invite her to do as she wished in the room, then shrugged and strode further in. She set about setting up the easel and then pulled from her bag a jumbled bundle of fabric that turned out to be a dress as she shook it out and hung it from the side of the neighbouring easel. I'd prefer a mannequin, but... Shaking her head, she brushed the thought aside and started to get out her other materials. She preferred her own equipment over that of the school, believing it to be of a higher grade.
Paying no attention to the teacher as she rummaged through the closet, Rowena glanced over at her for a moment when she spoke. She was almost done setting up the paints herself but she paused in what she was doing so that she did not mess up. Once she'd registered the question she looked back at the easel and made the first careful stroke with her brush. "I don't stalk the whole department," she said at first, a little dryly. Then, after a couple more seconds of consideration, the blonde amended, "What I'm interested in's never got much coverage but I never expected it, really." She lifted her shoulders in a shrug, not really elaborating on what her interest was at first. Instead she concentrated on the deep reddish-purple of the dress, frowning as she debated the best way to capture that colour with the paint. "I didn't wander in. This is where I always go." She scowled at the colour and amended it, the pause filling the silence before she said, "I'm mostly into fashion, really." She was a good artist and it was something Syria had always encouraged in her. She had picked art and fashion design back up again after her sister's death, a way of honouring the lost triplet's memory. "I like sketching out the designs and then painting them once they're finished. I can do other things, but..." Another shrug. She wasn't very good at talking about herself when it didn't come to bragging and trying to sound more confident than she actually was. Art was her way of immortalizing the pieces she created. It was also, though she'd never admit it, a sort of escape.
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Post by kenna1 on Nov 12, 2012 18:51:41 GMT -5
”I don’t have to try,” Jessie said. Looks like she was baiting a dragon with her sort of silliness though. Did all Brits have a stick up their butt, because Rowena was just like her parents. She felt the urge to correct Rowena on her statement, but what good would it do for the sour puss. Sure, abstract, but Marcel Duchamp’s famous Fountain was really a founding piece of Dada work and a prime example of what became known as a Readymade. Oh the domino effect Duchamp created during his time. The stark contrast of his ideals in Readymades versus The Treachery of Images concept. Fountain and Ceci n'est pas une pipe duking it out for Surrealism supremacy during the Post World War Two era. Jessie got chills just thinking about it.
Jessie stopped what she was doing and turned on her heel to watch the blonde setup. She remained quiet as the teenager pulled out what looked like a dress. Ohhhh was she going to do something on the clothes? Her smile dropped a bit when she saw Rowena mixing up paint. What was she trying to get at? It saddened the artist to hear Rowena go on about the school’s art classes. A student needed someone who could facilitate the needs of a student. Hence the proper title of faculty. Jessie only wished she would be able to fill those shoes. ”And that’s exactly why this program needs an advance studio program.” Hmm fashion wasn’t a world Jessie freely dived into. Yes, she had her own funky fresh style and knew what she liked, but sewing and tailoring things was a whole new world to the artist. If she had any plans involving fabrics she merely gave her rough sketch to a friend who had better skills than her and turned it into a collaboration piece.
Jessie turned her attention back to the overflowing closet. ”I’m not looking for miracles. I’d settle for even just a little enthusiasm,” She said, chucking a few books past her ears. She had given up on salvaging any of useless texts and her neat stack of books had turned into a giant jumble mountain of clutter. Who was she kidding in the first place, it was going to get disorganized if she liked it or not. ”And if no one tries to light a fire under your arse then this program will die out.” ”Like if you had a decent art program you would have know that mixing up a Quinacrdone Magenta, Naphthol Red Light, and Phthalo Blue, green shade of course, in a eighty/twenty-five/two ratio you could have wasted a lot less paint and know that your red lacks the slight cool to match that dress.” Her color theory and mixing was a bit rusty. With her back towards Rowena she had a hard time containing her glee.
”Sketching is always a good place to start. Flesh out the ideas before committing to something solid. It’s a good habit to have,” Sketching was like making a blueprint for an artist. It helped prevent problems with construction, cleared up questions. Jessie guarded her own books like her life depending on it. Part journal, part sketchbook, and part scheduling book. ”Most of my sketchbooks end up looking like a giant jumble of drawings and written jibber jabber. It’s a wonder I can read my own recordings. Who knows how much good work is buried in may old books. I need a damn decoder ring for my own handwriting. Though I haven’t reached DaVinci level paranoia that’s for sure.” There was a loud crack of thunder from outside that caused Jessie to drop a huge art encyclopedia on the ground, creating a loud thud. "Thunder is messing up my moves!"
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Post by ROWENA AUDREY BENNETT on Nov 14, 2012 10:50:07 GMT -5
The raised eyebrow that Rowena met Jessie's words with suggested that she was not in agreement. She decided against saying anything as she felt that her opinion had been made clear enough. She was a tough one to please and an even harder shell to crack.
The Thunder shrugged as if to say that it wouldn't affect her either way. She was almost out of high school. Perhaps she have had an easier and more enjoyable time at the Academy if her schedule had been filled with classes she was passionate about instead of taking things like Math, History and Science but it was too late for all of that now. She'd reached the end of the road and she was happy to be there at last. Should she care about the art program for the sake of the future student generation? Probably, but Rowena was selfish and tended to think only of herself. Jessie spoke of wanting enthusiasm and it seemed she was getting the opposite from the blonde. Ro was focused on her art, though she listened to the woman all the same. It was hard not to hear her when they stood so close.
She paused after a light stroke in order to process the list of colours. It was clear that Jessie either knew a lot more about the nitty gritty details of art (which would make sense, being that she was a teacher) or she was very good at bullshitting. The Thunder was uncertain of how to respond right away. She settled for a shake of her head. "Fuck Math. I prefer to eyeball it." She didn't really care how much paint it took her to get to a certain point as long as she got there in the end. This lack of concern for wasting things was likely the root of her problems with money. She worked as a model but spent anything she made on art and fashion. What little was left went to food and rent. She felt bad for Altair, her twin had a lot of stress on her shoulders as she was technically head of household, but she was not the type to take action and do anything about it.
A nod signified her agreement to the comment on sketching. She really was big on non-verbal responses to things. The base of the painting was starting to take shape. It seemed from a distance like a mess of random strokes but upon closer inspection an outline was visible. It did not resemble the model-built woman that she was aiming for—her sister. When no one was around to model the designs, she defaulted to Altair. She knew her sister so well that painting from memory was not hard. Altair could look beautiful in anything and Rowena envied her. That they were identical twins did not matter. The Thunder's own beauty paled in comparison to that of her sister in Rowena's mind. "I'd be more afraid of becoming like Van Gogh. Least you've still got both your ears." Her hair draped over her shoulder as she turned her head to crack a slight smile and she flicked it back to avoid it dipping into the paints. It was the closest Rowena got to making a joke. The moment faded quickly and she turned back to her painting but for a second there had been a flash of what-used-to-be.
The clap of thunder did not phase Rowena in the least and she glanced over when she heard the loud thunk of something hitting the ground. "What, are you afraid of it or something?" She sounded amused and for good reason. As a Thunder, the idea entertained her.
[I'm sorry she's so difficult/quiet xD Thunders.]
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Post by kenna1 on Nov 15, 2012 12:08:27 GMT -5
Ahh the old ‘fuck math, use your eyes method.’ Not to be confused with it’s opposite ‘Don’t question science!’ For once Jessie walked the line on an issue. The artist was torn between artistic freedom, and proficient use of materials. ”To each their own I suppose,” Jessie said. Back when she was pinching pennies she had learned the hard way how to ration off her supplies. Quality paint cost an arm and a leg, especially for a girl would was in between jobs all the time. School was like a fantasy land for Jessie when it came to budgeting. When she was at school she didn’t care that a 8 oz jar of Golden’s Cadmium Yellow Medium cost almost thirty-six dollars. She blasted through so much paint it almost hurt her to think how much money went down the drain. Jessie went from globing paint on like no tomorrow to giving up food for days in order to pay off on metal rivets she needed. One day it might bite Rowena in the arse, but until then, it seemed okay to let her be free of worry and experiment.
She missed the girl’s nod as she continued to tear apart the closet. The artist merely assumed she was playing moody teenager again. Was this task never ending? You’d think a closet this small would be an easy fix. Maybe it really was the closet leading into Narnia. Jessie ran her hand up against the doorframe looking for some sort of secret trigger. ”Of course nothing cool would be in here,” With a frustrated huff, Jessie gave up on her halfway finished job. She stretched over the rather large mess she had created with a shaky landing after crossing. Instead of going to the chair, Jessie slide across the table surface and planted herself there. She leaned back on her hands and crossed her legs, swinging one absentmindedly as she considered Rowena little joke. ”Again with the nutter jab?” The girl’s tiny smile was a tiny victory for the future teacher. ”I can appreciate his work enough to sacrifice an ear if it meant achieving what he could do.”
Before going back to London six years ago, Jessie had forced herself to visit the Museum of Modern Art in New York for the first time in her life. The experience was profound enough to cause her to tear up every time she went up to a new floor. It had been her first true visit to such an established place of art. She spent hours wandering the floors and soaking up as much information as she could. Van Gogh’s Starry Night held a permit residence and she had been brave enough to touch it when the guards weren’t looking. Back before they had guards standing right next to the painting because people would break pieces off and take them home. Not Jessie though, she just wanted to feel those legendary brushstrokes underneath her fingers. It was anything but a disappointment. The layers of colors so caked up and so gesturel. His genius, or his madness, creating a very sculpture of a painting just to try an capture the images on his mind. ”I could do without the immense sadness though,” Van Gogh’s story was so tragic. All the joy he could bring people and not a shred of it he was able to have for himself.
Lightening was Jessie’s natural enemy so to speak, but for some strange reason she couldn’t help but enjoy it. At least in nature. The thunder rolled in the distance and then a shot of lightning. It had such a beautiful sort of dance to it, the way it cut across the sky. The sound of rain pounding upon the window was all she could hear until the sharp crack of thunder that rattled the window. It was beautiful and dangerous. ”Only when it surprises me,” she said bit vaguely, her eyes fixated on the outside world. Funny how it rains and thunders at the same time. At the Academy is was the opposite, no such harmony usually existed at the student’s age. There she went again, trapped in her mental ramblings. She shook the feeling and looked back at what the student was doing. ”So Rowena,” she started off, ”You know Duchamp, you know Van Gogh. Is it safe to say you all the heavy hitters that have trickled into pop culture?” It was always a safe bet to assume people with very little art backgrounds would know such names as Pollock, Warhol, Van Gogh, Degas, all artists who have somehow broken past regular art fame and into celebrity. ”What sort of artists do you turn to for inspiration?”
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Post by ROWENA AUDREY BENNETT on Nov 16, 2012 8:39:42 GMT -5
Rowena should have followed by Jessie's example and tried to save money by conserving her paints and fabrics but she was not good at being responsible. The Thunder elemental acted upon whims and desires in the moment. She would buy an expensive new dress that she saw in the mall without thinking ahead to consider how much of that money was meant to go toward the rent. She was lucky her sister had a better head on her shoulders. Rowena was not completely incompetent—she certainly realised her mistakes in retrospect but instead of learning from them in the future she simply took on extra modelling stints to make up for the money where possible. Rinse, repeat. It was not the best way to live but as they weren't on the streets yet, Rowena was comfortable in saying that it worked. As did her habits with her paint. If it wasn't broken, or at least if it didn't look broken to her, she wasn't going to bother fixing it.
In other words, she was a bit irrational.
"I never said the word nutter." She raised her eyebrows, the smile on her lips feigning innocence. It was nice to have humour every once and a while. She'd never be a comedian, that was for sure, but it helped her to feel like she was normal. Like she wasn't lapsing back into the girl that had walked through the halls with her head down and her mouth shut, relying on substances for any sort of confidence. Normality was an anchor. "I'd prefer to keep mine," she said honestly. She wasn't denying Van Gogh's talent but her passion for art was not so strong that she'd desire giving up bits of herself for more of a talent. She'd never wanted to become an artist no matter how good she was with painting and sketches so she was comfortable with her current level of talent. Rowena didn't have anything to say on the subject of Van Gogh's sadness, so she did not speak.
Ro had always loved storms, not that it came as any surprise for a Thunder elemental. As a child she would sit at the window when a storm rolled in and listen to the rumble and cracks of the thunder as the rain battered the earth and the lightning lit the dark skies for brief moments. She liked to try to capture the essence of a storm in some of her artwork but she'd never been able to get it quite right. It was hard without the aid of sound. What was a storm without the assault of the thunder and the wind, the relentless rain pouring down?
Jessie asked after her knowledge of artists and she lifted her shoulders in a shrug. Having found her perfect shade, she was now concentrating on the short brush strokes being applied to the canvas. "I know some," she said. "Probably not as much as you." What she knew of art history came from the occasional deviations from visual arts in her courses. The history of art did not interest her as much as the application of it. She was an aspiring designer, after all. An art of a different kind. She'd been to the National Gallery of London before they'd made the move to Canada and had seen a lot of paintings by famous and favourite artists. She wasn't incredibly invested in art history but paintings were nice to look at. Monet's Bathers at La Grenouillère might have been a sketch and not the final intended product but it had been neat to see it all the same.
Speaking of Claude, Jessie's next inquiry had to do with her inspirations. "I really like the impressionists," she said lightly as she paused to contemplate her next move. "Mostly Monet, Sisley and Guillaumin." She liked the style of the paintings and landscapes were some of her favourites despite the fact that a lot of her own paintings incorporated her design work in some way. She enjoyed trying to capture the scenes outside almost as much, even if she didn't invest a whole lot of her time on painting. Her sister had encouraged her painting and her death had, in turn, encouraged her to return to it. "Really, though, I'm not much of an expert." She'd never be labelled an art enthusiast no matter how good she got at it. It was simply something that she enjoyed. It seemed to be different for Jessie. That was fine. Besides, it made sense. Why would someone teach art if they weren't passionate about it?
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Post by kenna1 on Nov 16, 2012 17:25:18 GMT -5
Jessie nodded along thoughtfully as Rowena listed off a few prominent impressionists. She was more than impressed at this point. Rowena’s answers seemed like art was more than just a hobby, but her nonchalant engagement of the conversation would leave someone to think otherwise. ”So you’re a fan of the oldies then.” Sisley was strictly landscape, as was Monet in his later years. From the looks of the girl’s piece, she was far from hitting the mark on what they loved to do. ”It’s nice to hear someone young interested in that sort of movement.” Who was she kidding? Jessie was only twenty-four. Hardly an age gap between her and the twelfth years. The teacher herself was still wet behind the ears on a lot of things. Like how in God’s name was she going to teach a class? The choice was made in haste and she flip flopped on how good of a decision is really was the closer January got.
”You don’t really need to know a lot when you first get into it,” When she first started she just knew she liked what she did and that what she saw painted on the streets was enough interest to keep looking. ”Art can come from almost anything. You can look at the changing leaves and you’ve got a whole color palette to do whatever you want. Doesn’t mean you have to draw some precious New England riverscape. You could listen to an ill beat from some hot new DJ and all of a sudden you’ve got a brand new idea just waiting to be released into the world.” She was working herself up into a frenzy again. At least now she had a bit more confidence in her lecturing skills. She could definitely talk and fill time, all she needed was open ears and able minds.
”A little bit of this, a dab of that, store it all up in the noggin and then completely forget about it. You’d be surprised to see how many diminutive hints there are in your work that can be picked apart and brought back to one of your original influences,” Jessie was rambling again. Thankfully this time she was at least on topic. Or was she? At this point she had no idea what Rowena even said to prompt this onslaught of words. Give her a platform and the woman would let the world know how she thinks. What could she say... she had the gift of the gab. ”That’s where all the academics get caught up on. They stop making art and just start talking about it. I think they just lose touch of what it’s really about.”
Damn she gave herself chills. ”What the hell were we talking about?” Houston this is Jessie Yates, we have a problem. Jessie had a blank stare as she searched her chaotic mind for what Rowena had even said before. Something about…chicken nuggets? No, that didn’t make sense, why would she be thinking about chicken nuggets. Had she not been tested as a child, multiple times by the request of her parents, she and the rest of the world would have sworn these were signs of ADHD. Results showed Jessie was as fit as a whistle and the mystery of her quirkiness remained a mystery even to this day. ”Sooooo…. what’s with the dress? You doing a still life or something?” Jessie craned her neck a bit to see how Rowena’s progress was going.
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Post by ROWENA AUDREY BENNETT on Nov 16, 2012 18:24:01 GMT -5
Rowena shook her head before shrugging. "Just the movement." It didn't matter if they were modern artists or artists from ancient Rome, if she thought something looked pretty she was going to admire it. She'd looked up impressionism because she'd liked the way it looked and that was that. She lifted her brows when Jessie mentioned her age. It was never something she'd been comfortable with, mostly because she'd been held back not one but two years when she'd started the Academy. She and her sisters both had been so elementally underdeveloped that the Academy had insisted. "I'm nineteen," she pointed out. She'd be twenty soon enough, if one considered May 'soon'. It felt soon. She could remember first coming to Canada at seventeen and wondering how she and her sisters would ever settle in. Oh, how things changed.
Apparently she had hit a point of passion with Jessie, or at least she had touched on a subject that the woman could ramble about. Not much of a talker, Rowena half-listened and half-focused on her painting. It's not like I'm new to art, she thought indignantly. She didn't say anything, however, merely pressed her lips together and frowned at the canvas. She was not a temperamental person like her sister Altair was, not a Fire. Instead she was quietly vindictive like her elemental kin in Thunder. "I guess so." Her tone was non-committal. She definitely liked the colours of fall for paintings but she also really liked the winter and the beautiful blankets of snow that settled over the landscape like nature's decorations. There wasn't much of a colour scheme to work with but that didn't make it any less special.
It wasn't anything she was unaware of. The brain was really good at turning people into unintentional plagiarists by conveniently forgetting the source of material and bringing it up later as an original idea. At least she couldn't accidentally steal her fashion related paintings from others, though even those were not completely safe. For what happened if the fashion design itself wasn't completely of her own creation? This didn't deter her from design nor art, however, as Rowena didn't really care if she accidentally took inspiration from somewhere else. Hell, everyone probably did it. "That's why I never really got much into it," she agreed. "I like painting and I'm even all right with some other things but I don't really care for a complete history because I'm not going to be an artist." There was typical Rowena, blunt and honest as ever. She wasn't being hard on herself, either, but instead expressing that her passions lay elsewhere. Her works were some of the only things she felt confident in. She didn't like her body much and she didn't think she was intelligent but if you handed her a paint brush or a piece of clothing, she could work enough of a wonder to impress herself.
Ro blinked, confused by the question, wondering if it was literal. "Art..." She spoke slowly as if talking to a small child and she was beginning to wonder if the weird lapse in sanity Jessie had shown when she entered the room had been an isolated incident or whether the woman was simply strange. Rowena never knew how to deal with people like that and so generally she didn't, choosing to avoid or else ignore them.
A still-life, would she call it that? "No," the Thunder said. "It's a... portrait, almost." A smile touched her lips as if she was sharing a joke with herself, a joke which she did not clue Jessie in on. The woman would not know that the woman in the painting was Altair, Rowena's twin, nor would she fully understand the significance. That was all right by her. She'd always felt that art of any kind should mean more to the artist than any and all who viewed it afterwards. Interpretations were a load of bullshit most of the time. Unless you heard if from the horse's mouth, how could you be sure? "The dress is mine, I designed it." She'd seen the colour of the fabric when she'd been shopping and had fallen in love with the shade and so, in true Ro style, she'd shrugged off the fact that she had to pay her own way through college and rent and food and all that real life bullshit and she'd bought herself a length of it. She was proud of how the article had turned out, at least, so she couldn't consider it a waste.
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Post by kenna1 on Nov 17, 2012 10:53:07 GMT -5
Nineteen and already so cold. Jessie was a strange case and didn’t go through the whole tough girl apathetic thing Rowena had going on. She just went the rebellious route and ended up getting kicked out of her house. Still as chipper as a songbird. ”I take it you don't sit around and dream of rabbits in a field and other positive shit that like” she mumbled. If this was whole she acted about something she considered a hobby Jessie wept for whoever had to deal with her when it came to something she loved. This Ro was a tough cookie to crack. She’d be a tough student to get through to, but she wouldn’t give up. Everyone had a soft spot somewhere. ”Your enthusiasm is overwhelming,” she mocked. Nothing like a little dose of her own medicine. Jessie hopped off the desk and made her way towards Rowena’s dress. ”How ‘bout that…” Her hand went out to lightly trace the fabric. ”that’s pretty cool.”
Jessie felt a vibration in her jacket pocket. Pulling out her phone, the songs of her ring tone stopped her from commenting on Rowena piece so far. ”Excuse me for a moment…” she said, placing the iPhone to her ear and taking a few steps back. ”Hello Marty, please tell me this is about that mold…” Jessie was cooking up a new big public installation. A few weeks ago she had sent her production buddy a new prototype she wanted to make mass quantities of. Marty was her inside guy went it came to eco-friendly art methods. Jessie would not be targeted by her harsher critics for ruining this beautiful mother Earth. She prattle on with Marty going over what Marty had to offer her, giving him corrections to some of his points. She needed to get this thing up and running by the end of February without any further delays. ”Just tweak that and sent it as soon as you can Marty.” She concluded her call and tucked the phone back into her pocket.
Jessie clicked her tongue a few times as she ran through a few possible scenarios through her head. If her new molds came in within the week she could get at least a month of free studio time. The artist needed to get at least five hundred of her pieces cast, sanded, and painted before she started to juggle school and art. Jessie’s piece was about the idea of a single object coming from the same mold and then morphed and finished to look completely different. She was hoping to fill her space with a thousand piece and she wasn’t going to fall short on her own goal. She’d have to push forward on her sketch work when she returned to her studio. It was too much stress for her to put on herself this early in the stages. ”Sorry about that. So, what is it that you do want to do if you're only doing art to pass the time?” Her hands were clasped behind her back casually, her posture one of complete nonchalance.
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