Astrid Magnussen (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
white_oleander) wrote2019-02-06 03:32 pm
white_oleander) wrote2019-02-06 03:32 pm
Entry tags:
Room 210; Wednesday Afternoon [02/06].
Good-bye, pinwheels. You were fun while you lasted, a blip in Astrid's amusement after a ridiculously long case of artist's block, and now she was so fueled with a new idea for her wall so soon after putting you up. Like flowers that wilted soon after plucking them from their life-giving stems, the joy of the bright colors and the unexpected moments when the light would catch them just right or a breeze from seemingly nowhere would push them to spin had faded, wilted, fell away, replaced b a vision she couldn't get out of her head since Monday. A memory, really, more than anything else, but the urge to get it out of her head and onto her wall was finally strong enough to pull her to drag out the tarps, pull her bed away from the ever-changing canvas, crack open all the windows, and get to work with white-washing the boxy geometric shapes that had complimented the pinwheels.
How much smaller would this room be by the time she graduated, shrunken by slowly building inches of whitewash and paint on this wall?
And then she'd get started on next vision, a blurry, somewhat impressionistic scene, cloaked in dark shadows. Dark blue background, bold black shapes in the foreground, stretching in a long line diminishing as it went to the horizon, but in the center, a sliver of bright, golden light. A burst of a star, the unrelenting sun, if not for the curves and lines to suggest the vague shape of a woman. She was already looking forward to figuring out how the light would cast itself against those shadows; that was always what intrigued her the most about a new piece, the distribution of light. And around the edges, starting in shadow, slowly growing brighter into a light pink at the edge, bunches of oleander, little bubbles of red dotting their petals, a bit like blood, a bit like dew.
In a way, it was nice to feel so absolutely driven and inspired again. But, considering the source, she wondered if it'd better if she wasn't.
[[open door, open post!]]
How much smaller would this room be by the time she graduated, shrunken by slowly building inches of whitewash and paint on this wall?
And then she'd get started on next vision, a blurry, somewhat impressionistic scene, cloaked in dark shadows. Dark blue background, bold black shapes in the foreground, stretching in a long line diminishing as it went to the horizon, but in the center, a sliver of bright, golden light. A burst of a star, the unrelenting sun, if not for the curves and lines to suggest the vague shape of a woman. She was already looking forward to figuring out how the light would cast itself against those shadows; that was always what intrigued her the most about a new piece, the distribution of light. And around the edges, starting in shadow, slowly growing brighter into a light pink at the edge, bunches of oleander, little bubbles of red dotting their petals, a bit like blood, a bit like dew.
In a way, it was nice to feel so absolutely driven and inspired again. But, considering the source, she wondered if it'd better if she wasn't.
[[open door, open post!]]
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"You think?" Mae asked. "I never really thought anyone would be interested but future-me. And maybe not even her."
Future!Mae would probably have her own crap to deal with.
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It did not matter that she was talking to a cat person.
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"I have definitely met some kids who are depressingly normal."
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No offense, anyone!
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