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Post by Charles "Charlie" Harris on Jul 7, 2012 9:41:29 GMT -5
Many people thought of dancers as the dumb kids of art schools. Theater kids knew Shakespeare, creative writing people wrote books, artists knew art history, graphic designers knew computers, and even models had knowledge of their industry. What did dancers have? Charlie knew what dancers had. They knew how to move their bodies in a way that looked both more real than anything in the world, yet so unreal all the time. They transformed the world around them into one of movement, even where there hadn’t been movement before. A forest could become the waving strands of grass which could become droplets of water splattering when the rain hit the ground. Charlie knew more than anyone that dance was an art form.
And he, more than anyone, knew that there was a connection between dance and tradition paintings also, which was why he was at the museum. He’d heard that it had the paintings of Jean Arp, his absolute favorite artist from the 1920s. His bold use of color and shape was simply an inspiration to Charlie, especially the piece he was looking at right then, Abstract Composition, 1915, in oil. It almost felt like it was a beam of sunlight coming down off the tree, like sunlight was a solid, vicious thing. He could make a dance off of this easily. A warm expression came over his young face as he began to imagine the steps such a dance would require.
(Painting: Here) |
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Post by Derica Guzman-Brashares on Jul 15, 2012 19:11:32 GMT -5
It wasn't Broadway, but Derica would be lying if she said she didn't like to stop by an art museum every once in a while, especially after a long day of flying around (quite literally), doing all sorts of other things. Even the most vivacious could appreciate the quiet beauty of paintings...except this one in particular couldn't be called quiet. Perhaps that was why she approached it with wide, reverent eyes. The colors just popped and it was so gorgeous and zany and...well, she supposed it was just right for her tastes. As if to prove that point, a lot of the bright colors on the painting just so happened to be on her shirt as well. She almost giggled at the thought, but just covered her mouth to make sure she didn't laugh too loudly.
She had vaguely noticed the other person by the painting, but had been so enthralled that her typical friendly nature waited (for once). Now she offered his a sideways glance, and she couldn't help but smile when she realized how happy he seemed just looking at this beautiful work of art. It was one of his favorites, she just knew it, and her empathy was kicking in just enough that it was making her appreciate the painting even more.
Not wanting to snap him out of his reverie too abruptly, she just sent him a little grin before turning back to admire it. If he wanted to greet her, he was more than welcome. It wasn't like she didn't give off an approachable vibe.
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Post by Charles "Charlie" Harris on Jul 17, 2012 1:27:04 GMT -5
He noticed the girl come up beside him to admire the same piece of art, but somehow he knew it was for a different reason. That was one of the things he loved about all types of art. Two people could look at the exact same thing and both agree it was amazing but for entirely different reasons. Or one person could love it and another hate it. It was something art had that math and history didn't. He hated the world of right answers when art...art lent itself out and belonged to whoever was viewing it or living it or noticing it out of the corners of their eye. He and the girl were side by side, looking at the same thing, and feeling completely different things.
He grinned at her as he asked a question, “What does it look like to you?” Charlie was a friendly person, and he had reason to be. He'd never met a person he didn't get along with. He was one of those guys that was likeable cause he didn't do any of the douchey things that guys usually did, and he was equally good at making friends with girls as with boys. He didn't always have a lot of very close friends, but he fit into so many different circles that it didn't matter to him. Maybe it was because he didn't judge people, or maybe it was that he liked everything.
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