Aspirations

You can only wish for the best.

A few more strokes - that was all she needed. Just a few more hints of touch-up, an extra sparkle here and there. Bend one of the feathers a bit more. One of the swirls wasn’t quite symmetrical with its counterpart - its tip needed to be a bit sharper. The edges of each section must be straight. Were the feathers attached properly? Was each gem attached properly? Was the space between each of the swirls the same? It had to be perfect. Everything in her store had to be perfect. Perfection - that was her business. They expected it from her, and she would deliver.

Finally satisfied with her work, she placed a glass dome carefully over it to prevent anything from landing on it. The wind could easily carry dust and debris through the open windows of her studio, and her paintbrushes were not particularly adept at keeping the water and paint on them to themselves. She delicately placed her white glove, which was splattered with several shades of red and orange ranging from scarlet to peach, into the trash can. Of course, she couldn’t use it again. What if some of the paint smudged on to her next creation? Disgusting. She lifted her utensils towards her sink, where several other brushes and pots lay. Positioning the items she held on the counter, she removed the weights from on top of the clear piece of plastic that covered her sink before pulling the plastic screen off as well. After checking once again if the screen and weights were clean, she arranged the utensils into the sink and restored the screen and weights, turning away once she affirmed that it was secure.

Her studio wasn’t a typical one. There were not splotches of paint scattered around the room, nor utensils and pots that fell onto the floor to be forgotten. The Brazilian Redwood floor had been recently furnished, shining a rich shade of firebrick in the midday sunlight. Her tables, chairs, and easels were painted black so that any rare splatter of paint would be barely noticeable. Her walls and ceiling were a pristine white, decorated with her finished works and several cabinets that held her art supplies. On one wall was a window that covered almost half of the wall, but her view was blocked by the farthest reaches of a tree that was right outside her store. Her windowsill had several orange, red, and yellow leaves littered nearby. The wall directly clockwise was covered by a full-length mirror, reflecting a collection of her works on the opposing wall.

Finally relaxing completely and assuring herself that her newest work was safe from any sort of impurity, Luciana walked over to her favorite wall, which was buried under all of the masks that would soon be moved down to the store once space was cleared for it. She reached to the second row for a blue and black jester mask that was decorated with white and pale blue stars. Bells hung from the tips of the jester hat, jingling as she examined it. This would be the next to enter the store. She closed her eyes, trying to imagine the person who would buy this one. Perhaps a teenager with dreams, but no idea what to do it reach them. He would be among the stars one day, though, as long as he continued pursue his wishes, blindly or not.

“Ms. Anteli!” The young voice of her employee called from downstairs. She replaced the mask onto its nail, glancing quickly at the mirror to check if she was presentable to the customers. Of course, she had forgotten to remove her apron. Once that was taken care of, she hustled downstairs to her store. Across from her employee was a relatively well-dressed man with glasses. His graying hair was slicked back and covered by a black fedora, and his white tie was partially hiding under a gray suit.

He stuck out like a sore thumb in his surroundings. The walls of the store were brightened with pale, pastel colors in stripes and circles. Masks were arranged in front of the parts of the wall that complemented their colors. A pale yellow, rectangular pillar was in the middle of the store with masks arranged on each side. Even the masks that were painted black and white had flecks on gold on them. The register stood on a dark brown, wooden counter, and the register itself had been adorned with several ornaments.

“Welcome to my store,” Luciana spoke softly, bowing her head very slightly, “Is there anything in particular you needed?”

“Hello, Miss Anteli,” his voice was weary and nearly emotionless, other than a small spark of excitement that Luciana suspected was feigned. It was slightly authoritative, like a cold mountain standing in front of her. “I was interested in buying a selection of your masks for a museum on Italian art I was planning on creating.”

“A museum?” Luciana blinked, “You want to put my masks on display?”

“Correct,” he nodded slowly, “A museum on the history of art in Italy. Free of charge to all visitors. I hope to enhance the education of young, aspiring artists. Of course, I will pay well for your works.” His words were practiced, flowing out of his mouth with ease.

So you just want to flaunt your money to the public, don’t you? Luciana resisted the urge to speak her mind. “I’m sorry, I’m not interested in having my masks displayed.”

The man blinked. Was this the first time someone had rejected his offer? Well, it was definitely a good deal for business. That was what every artist should consider first. Money was power, fame, whatever you needed it to be. Even inspiration, at times. But it wasn’t enough. Luciana was greedy. She wanted money, but it wasn't enough. Admiration and love were different things, and she didn’t want people admiring her works. She wanted people to love her works. She wanted them to hang them up on a wall, and look to it for uplifting in difficult times, inspiration when the mind was blank, or strength when the body was weak.

“Well, it was a pleasure doing business with you, Madame,” the man turned and left the store. After the very slight display of initial shock, he had completely returned to normalcy.

Luciana was about to turn away when her employee interrupted her. “Um, Ms. Anteli, why?”

Luciana met her employee’s curious, blue eyes, “Favian, why did he want my art?”

“…To put it in his museum, right? So people could look at it, and learn from it…” Favian trailed off, looking at Luciana with a confused expression and wondering if she saw some hidden intentions in the man’s wish. Looking down again, he adjusted his dark purple hat, biting down on his pale brown sleeves.

Smiling, she patted Favian on the head, ruffling his hair slightly, “You still have a lot to learn, kid. Though I guess the way I worded the question was a bit unfair. You’ll probably understand - eventually. Please take care of the shop for now, then.” She turned and went back upstairs, rolling her neck as she walked over to her newest creation. It would be a while until the paint dried, but she couldn’t help but take a look to make sure there wasn’t anything she’d missed.

The answer was that he never wanted the mask to begin with. He just wanted some masks. They didn’t have to be hers. They didn’t have to be perfect. They just had to be - well, pretty. Not even elegant or meaningful or cute. Just pretty.

All she wanted from a customer was someone who would notice the shape and differences in size of every swirl that framed the eyes, the slight changes in color at different spots on the face, and the volume of each feather. Someone who would smile wistfully at the mask’s teasing expression. The details. The whole. Everything.

She walked over to the wall of masks, taking out the black and blue jester mask she had handled earlier, and skipped downstairs once again. “Favian!” The boy looked up at her, “This is for you,” she placed the mask in his outstretched hands, “So you’ll always remember your dreams.”

And in case you ever lose your way, the stars will be there for you.

Author's Note

Honestly, I thought this was a bit...flat. I don't really know what I mean by it, but...what do you guys think? And do you think the description is over/underdone?

Reviews

[Dahlia Phoenix]

One thing that others may have already suggested, give some paragraphs a double space so it won't look to squashed in but other than that, this was pretty good. I love this story because of the development and the ending where she learns that perfection isn't everything. Sometimes even the simplest things look beautiful in one's eyes. A good story to read. :)

[Dancing in time]

I love it. I love the way you describe everything in detail. I could really imagine everything that was being said. It was very well done. :)

[Esana Bridges]

I like the descriptions very much, and I like the idea that she's going for. Flat - well it's not exactly a topic that requires incredible passion and the way you wrote it kind of takes out the need to be dramatic or more...unflat? The description is not overdone or definitely not underdone. It's very nice and creates a great setting.

Consider adding more spacing between your words to make it easier to read or making the font just a bit larger.

A major highlight of this piece is your format used, very easy on the eyes which makes a "You have a no idea how awesome" phrase come to mind. Lots of people on here like to get fancy with their story and write like a structure similar to poetry which has NO similarities at all in format. Your short paragraphs which are divided up into readable sections just make me giddy with "Thank the god, somebody who can see what they're typing" lol... (you could though break up the first three paragraphs a bit more, and the ones from the 5th one downwards)

Anywho, as for the story itself, "Flat" you say? not at all I think. And descriptions are never overdone, unless it's used incorrectly (to describe the non-important) or over-lengthens a sentence too much. By all means, imagery and description is something you wanna dwell into, not keep on a rail.
Another thing about the story is the moral it delivers. Which, I don't know the appropriate term would be for, but to keep your achievements for yourself rather than have them displayed in a museum to support some massive ego. Shows alot of character.
The plot itself is pretty original, perhaps the only thing that is "flat" is plot progression. It seems to be a bit on a rail with the starting point being an artist doing what she loves and having finding her work almost effortlessly into a museum (even though she said no to the idea of it). If anything, that would be the only that would need work on, which is character and plot development. For example: what if she finally got her art deal but her single print portrait was destroyed in a fire cause she left the burner on the stove on while she was gone grocery shopping.... depressing plot twist right? but her working for years to finally get another deal would symbolize hard work. But did find the story had a great sense of morals, which I think was the main concern when writing it.

Overall I'll give it a 95 rating. I think it's deserved.
Btw, the style is somewhat reminiscent to that of those Teen-Drama novels which many chicks like to read that usually has pornographic scenes and usually deals with drama plots related to that of a young mistress and contains a cover which is usually using "cool" colors, like blue, to display calmness. Anywho, I would recommend checking out and studying that style/genre, it seems to be one that would possibly be a good fit for you and one you could probably make a career with.

[Inyourshadow]

I honestly loved the fact that she was all about the art and not the money, the very thought that some think money is everything is both shameful and so sad. Your message to enjoy art for it's beauty really appealed to me. Keep em' coming