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First Light |
Warm colours originated from the center of the canvas, transitioning into greens and blues as the image of the sun hit the water below. Ripples distorted the reflections and thick oil paints gave the waves a real presence. There was beauty but there was harsh reality too. No one painted sunsets quite like Marie Astor. Kate held back her white-blonde waves to keep them out of her face and give her a better look at the painting.
Standing beside the painting was Marie Astor herself. She wafted her hand at the canvas and turned her head away from it. “I keep it purely as a nostalgic token, I haven’t painted in years.” Her heels clopped on the wooden floor as she walked away and stopped beside a tall metal sculpture. “I find paintings to be so limiting. Sculptures are what the real artists make these days.” Marie Astor rested one hand on her hip while the other stroked the air around the metal art piece.
The woman was dressed in a form fitting dress and her hair had been ironed into tight curls. Though she was well in to her fifties she carried on as if still in her forties. Grey hairs were to be plucked or dyed and wrinkles hidden beneath several layers of foundation and blusher. She was the epitome of elegance and her surroundings suited her perfectly. The old Georgian house had tall ceilings and large windows, providing the perfect space and light for the art of Miss Astor.
“Do you not paint for fun even?” asked Kate.
Marie Astor scoffed. “Lord no, this isn’t primary school. My art has to have purpose.”
“But I’m still going to paint today right?” Kate closed the gap between them and stared at the sculpture. It was made of rounded shapes, creating what Kate assumed was supposed to be the female form. And that was only because of the placard underneath that read “Women are life”. Kate couldn’t help but feel a little disappointed in Astor’s move into other art forms.
“Yes Catherine…”
“Kate,” she corrected.
“Kate, yes. Everyone needs to start somewhere and starting with sculptures would be a little intimidating.” Marie Astor rubbed Kate’s arm and smiled. “Why don’t you set up your things over there? We can get started as soon as you’re ready.”
The spot where Kate had been asked to set up was on the other side of the room from the statue. She had brought her stool and easel from home as well as a bag full of painting supplies. Kate was a little sad to learn that she couldn’t see a single painting from where she had been told to sit. She did her best to shake her annoyance. She was with a great artist after all.
Kate was about to unzip her bag of brushes and paints when her eyes glanced to the polished wooden floor beneath her. Kate quickly became anxious about causing a mess. What would happen if she were to spill paint and make a mess in Miss Astor’s house? The woman must have spotted her hesitation. “Don’t worry about the floor. It’s been sanded, varnished and mopped more times than I can remember. Artists require mess in the creation process.” Kate grinned. Perhaps she would get to see Marie Astor in the way she had hoped after all.
Once she had set everything up, Marie covered a few of the basics. She out right refused to let Kate create a painting until she had practiced several brush strokes and sketching techniques first. It was nothing Kate hadn’t done in class before and she did exactly what was asked of her. Kate felt there was a certain added excitement to doing something under the watchful gaze of her hero, even if it was something she had done a hundred times before.
While Kate worked on her fifth page of sketches she heard the clop of heels as Marie Astor wandered over to one of her windows. She sighed heavily and folded her arms. Kate frowned, confused by the woman’s apparent frustration. To her relief Marie Astor wasn’t looking at her, but at something out of the window.
“Something wrong?” Kate asked.
Marie Astor pouted her lips and narrowed her eyes. “That man just will not give me any peace.” Her tone was clipped and her stance had stiffened.
Kate carefully leaned her sketchbook against the still-blank canvas and hurried over to the window. It wasn’t immediately evident who Marie meant. A group of men and women were just passing by. “Just wait,” said Marie. “There!”
The group had moved out of the way revealing a man, sat on the curb on the other side of the street. His hair was oily and uncut, his face dirty and covered in muck. The clothes he wore were almost as dirty as the soles of his bare feet. He hunched a little and lay his legs out in front of him. But his chin was lifted and his eyes were staring right at them.
Marie Astor visibly shuddered. “Who is he?” Kate stepped away from the window, feeling a little spooked out herself.
“He’s been showing up here at least once a week for the last two months. I’ve tried telling the police about him but they said there’s nothing they can do. Absolutely useless. What good are they if they can’t get rid of a frightening man on my own doorstep?” Marie flicked the curtain, just enough to block her view of the man.
“Have you tried talking to him?”
“Absolutely not.” Marie’s eyes widened, shocked by the mere thought of it. “This man obviously has some sort of dangerous obsession with me. I’m not going to do anything to make the situation worse” Marie Astor’s expression softened a little and then a shrewd look came over her. She tapped a finger against her cheek. “I wonder. Kate, do you think you could get him to leave?”
The thought made her a little nervous, however there seemed to be enough people passing by to put her at ease. Should she get into trouble there would be people near-by and Marie Astor would be watching, though she wasn’t sure that was much comfort.
Kate agreed to it, in the hopes that such a favour might put her in Marie Astor’s good books. Perhaps her next sculpture could be titled “Woman and the Homeless” or something equally stupid. She grabbed her coat from the antique hat stand and went out the front door.
While not quite frosty, it was cold enough outside that Kate couldn’t help but pity anyone who had to sit in the open air. As she approached him the man’s eyes remained in place. Even when she came to a stop beside him, he kept staring through the window. Marie Astor was watching, waving her hand as if telling her to get a move on.
Kate opened her mouth to speak and was surprised to be interrupted before she could start. “What’s it look like? Up close I mean.” His voice was soft yet his speech was unclear. It sounded as if there were teeth missing in that mouth of his.
“What does what look like?” she was almost afraid to ask.
“First Light.” To anyone else it might have been a strange statement indeed, but to Kate it was a minor revelation. The tension left her body as she found herself quickly warming to the man.
“The painting?”
“Aye.”
Kate crouched down next to the man. “I was just looking at it, it’s beautiful. One of her best, I’ve always thought that.” She spoke softly, trying to be respectful to the man.
The man twisted at the waist to get a better look at Kate and smiled at her through the dirt on his face. “It’s my favourite too.” He returned to his former position and this time Kate followed his gaze. Perfectly framed by an open doorway, was the painting of the sunrise. “It makes me a little sad though, she said she’s done with painting.”
“It’s not for us to be sad about the decisions others make for their own lives. She created something wonderful and for that I am grateful.”
“I’m Kate by the way.”
“Bill,” he said with a nod.
“How long are you normally here for?” Kate asked awkwardly. She didn’t want to move the man and she hoped that if she could at least tell Marie Astor when he was leaving she might be put at ease.
“By 1 o’clock the sun’s on t’other side of the building. ‘comes too dark to see it and so I move on again.” Kate lifted the edge of her sleeve to inspect her watch. 1 o’clock was still over 2 hours away. It wasn’t that long in the grand scheme of things and Kate hoped the knowledge would be enough for Marie Astor.
“It was nice talking with you Bill.”
“You too Kate. Enjoy that painting while you can.” Kate waved goodbye, even though he wouldn’t see it. A force of habit.
Kate hurried back inside and Marie was stood waiting for her. She looked anxious to hear the news. “Well? Is he moving?”
Kate shook her head as she removed her coat. “Not until 1 I’m afraid. He seems harmless enough though, I don’t think you need to worry.” Marie scoffed. She folded her arms and began to pace along the hallway.
“Very well, I can handle that.” Kate was a little surprised to hear such positivity. Marie gestured for Kate to follow her back into the sculpture room. “I’ll get you started on your painting and then I’ll go out until that man is gone.”
“You’re leaving?” Kate allowed a hard edge to enter her voice. She was hear to be taught by Miss Astor, so to learn that she wouldn’t even be present for so long was angering.
Either Marie Astor was slow to pick up on it or she chose to ignore it. She waved her hand in the air. “Oh, not to worry, artists perform best when alone. You’ll still have my expertise for the rest of the afternoon.” She stood before her, hands on hips as she waited for Kate to get settled on her stool again. “Now, what I would like you to paint is this.” Marie Astor stepped aside and threw out her hands as if presenting to sculpture for the first time.
Kate frowned a little but had failed to be completely surprised. Marie carried on. “You can’t make one yourself but that doesn’t mean you can’t study the form. So, paint what you see from where you are and I’ll be back in a couple of hours.”
“Would it be okay if I move over there?” Kate pointed to the adjacent wall. She got the feeling that if she out-right asked to paint the sun then Marie would refuse. If the sun just happened to be behind the sculpture however…
“You’re in the perfect spot where you are, trust me.” Marie Astor gave her a wide grin. At least she seemed enthusiastic about something, Kate thought. Marie clopped away and Kate could hear the metal clinks of keys and the zip of handbag followed by the slamming of the front door.
Before Kate could think of the strangeness of being in her hero’s house alone, she started sketching her outlines. Her eyes flicked back and to between subject and canvas with intense concentration. She began so well. Then, her hand seemed to slow of its own accord. She was not at the right angle to see Bill who remained on the curb outside. Even so his presence seemed to weigh on her. If she were a braver person she would have let him in to see the painting with his own eyes. Her mind refused to allow it, instead deciding to show her the numerous ways in which such a scenario could go wrong.
Even so, Kate felt a strong urge to do something for him. He was a fan, just as she was. Why did she get to sit here, getting a lesson? A very hands-off lesson, but a lesson from her hero none-the-less. All while Bill sat in the cold, staring through a window at a painting that could barely be seen.
Kate picked up her pencil and got back to work. Pencils were quickly swapped for paints and brushes. She followed her guidelines and painted with speed. 2 hours was ambitious for this particular project and she hoped she could finish in the time. She glided the brush, leaving perfect trails of yellow, orange and reds. Her body adjusted for each motion. Sometimes leaning back, her arms sweeping sideways and sometimes bent over, her face an inch away from the canvas to create the details. She painted like a maniac, chasing the clock, refusing to let it beat her.
A few minutes past 1 and Kate was caught off-guard by the sounds of the front door opening. She shook her head, fighting the daze that often took over when she was in the middle of working. Her heart began to race as she stared at the creation in-front of her. It wasn’t quite finished, but it was as near as she would get. Marie Astor waltzed in, paper shopping bags hanging from her hands and a satisfied look on her face.
“I hope you’ve had a fun couple of hours, I certainly have.” She winked and placed the bags on the floor. “How did you get on?” She trotted over to Kate to take a peek at what she had done. The woman’s face dropped. “This isn’t what I asked Kate.”
“I know, I’m sorry.”
“Do you often struggle to follow simple orders?” Marie Astor un-buttoned her coat and shook it off. This was it, she’d ruined it. Destroyed what little reputation she had built. “Still, I suppose you at least painted something of mine.” Marie Astor lay her coat over her arm and paused. The corner of her mouth twitched and for a moment Kate was worried she might start an angry tirade. Instead she beamed down at her student. “In fact it might be an improvement.”
“Really?” Kate breathed.
“No,” Marie laughed. “But it’s exceptionally good given the time constraints. Why don’t we have a spot of lunch and then you can start on the painting you were supposed to make after we’re done.” Kate was relieved. Perhaps the old-painter was still in there somewhere.
“Sounds good, there’s just something I need to do first.”
Kate grabbed the canvas, wetting the tips of her fingers with paint and side-stepped out of the room. She reached the entrance hallway and stared at the door. She had to admit to herself that she hadn’t thought this through. “Miss Astor, do you mind getting the door?”
The woman nodded, a little startled by Kate’s strange behavior. She ran as fast as she could in her heels and opened the heavy door as far as she could. Kate took on each step one-by-one and landed on the street in a hop. She jogged around the corner, looking for Bill. She started to panic when she saw that his spot was empty.
The street had filled up with workers out on their lunches. Kate moved as best she could to cross the street and look for Bill. She span on the spot, careful to hold the canvas away from her, so the paint didn’t get smudged. As hard as she looked she just couldn’t see him. She heard a knock on glass and spotted Marie, back at the window. She pointed a finger as if over Kate’s shoulder. She turned around and there was Bill, shuffling away past a set of black bins.
“Bill!” Kate shouted. The man stopped and waited patiently as she caught up with him. Between breaths she spoke. “I’ve got a present for you. It’s not the real thing but I thought you’d like it.”
Bill’s face lit up, his eyes like gems shining in the dirt. His fingers reached towards it.
“Careful, it’s still wet,” Kate shrugged. Bill nodded, his expression suddenly serious. He took it from her, displaying more caution than if it were the greatest treasure.
“That’s a grand painting that is lass. You’ll have paintings hanging right next to hers someday.”
“That might be a ways off yet. But when that day comes I can reserve you a seat in the gallery if you like.” She patted him on the arm and he grasped her hand with a tight grip.
“Make it a comfy one eh?” He winked.
Standing beside the painting was Marie Astor herself. She wafted her hand at the canvas and turned her head away from it. “I keep it purely as a nostalgic token, I haven’t painted in years.” Her heels clopped on the wooden floor as she walked away and stopped beside a tall metal sculpture. “I find paintings to be so limiting. Sculptures are what the real artists make these days.” Marie Astor rested one hand on her hip while the other stroked the air around the metal art piece.
The woman was dressed in a form fitting dress and her hair had been ironed into tight curls. Though she was well in to her fifties she carried on as if still in her forties. Grey hairs were to be plucked or dyed and wrinkles hidden beneath several layers of foundation and blusher. She was the epitome of elegance and her surroundings suited her perfectly. The old Georgian house had tall ceilings and large windows, providing the perfect space and light for the art of Miss Astor.
“Do you not paint for fun even?” asked Kate.
Marie Astor scoffed. “Lord no, this isn’t primary school. My art has to have purpose.”
“But I’m still going to paint today right?” Kate closed the gap between them and stared at the sculpture. It was made of rounded shapes, creating what Kate assumed was supposed to be the female form. And that was only because of the placard underneath that read “Women are life”. Kate couldn’t help but feel a little disappointed in Astor’s move into other art forms.
“Yes Catherine…”
“Kate,” she corrected.
“Kate, yes. Everyone needs to start somewhere and starting with sculptures would be a little intimidating.” Marie Astor rubbed Kate’s arm and smiled. “Why don’t you set up your things over there? We can get started as soon as you’re ready.”
The spot where Kate had been asked to set up was on the other side of the room from the statue. She had brought her stool and easel from home as well as a bag full of painting supplies. Kate was a little sad to learn that she couldn’t see a single painting from where she had been told to sit. She did her best to shake her annoyance. She was with a great artist after all.
Kate was about to unzip her bag of brushes and paints when her eyes glanced to the polished wooden floor beneath her. Kate quickly became anxious about causing a mess. What would happen if she were to spill paint and make a mess in Miss Astor’s house? The woman must have spotted her hesitation. “Don’t worry about the floor. It’s been sanded, varnished and mopped more times than I can remember. Artists require mess in the creation process.” Kate grinned. Perhaps she would get to see Marie Astor in the way she had hoped after all.
Once she had set everything up, Marie covered a few of the basics. She out right refused to let Kate create a painting until she had practiced several brush strokes and sketching techniques first. It was nothing Kate hadn’t done in class before and she did exactly what was asked of her. Kate felt there was a certain added excitement to doing something under the watchful gaze of her hero, even if it was something she had done a hundred times before.
While Kate worked on her fifth page of sketches she heard the clop of heels as Marie Astor wandered over to one of her windows. She sighed heavily and folded her arms. Kate frowned, confused by the woman’s apparent frustration. To her relief Marie Astor wasn’t looking at her, but at something out of the window.
“Something wrong?” Kate asked.
Marie Astor pouted her lips and narrowed her eyes. “That man just will not give me any peace.” Her tone was clipped and her stance had stiffened.
Kate carefully leaned her sketchbook against the still-blank canvas and hurried over to the window. It wasn’t immediately evident who Marie meant. A group of men and women were just passing by. “Just wait,” said Marie. “There!”
The group had moved out of the way revealing a man, sat on the curb on the other side of the street. His hair was oily and uncut, his face dirty and covered in muck. The clothes he wore were almost as dirty as the soles of his bare feet. He hunched a little and lay his legs out in front of him. But his chin was lifted and his eyes were staring right at them.
Marie Astor visibly shuddered. “Who is he?” Kate stepped away from the window, feeling a little spooked out herself.
“He’s been showing up here at least once a week for the last two months. I’ve tried telling the police about him but they said there’s nothing they can do. Absolutely useless. What good are they if they can’t get rid of a frightening man on my own doorstep?” Marie flicked the curtain, just enough to block her view of the man.
“Have you tried talking to him?”
“Absolutely not.” Marie’s eyes widened, shocked by the mere thought of it. “This man obviously has some sort of dangerous obsession with me. I’m not going to do anything to make the situation worse” Marie Astor’s expression softened a little and then a shrewd look came over her. She tapped a finger against her cheek. “I wonder. Kate, do you think you could get him to leave?”
The thought made her a little nervous, however there seemed to be enough people passing by to put her at ease. Should she get into trouble there would be people near-by and Marie Astor would be watching, though she wasn’t sure that was much comfort.
Kate agreed to it, in the hopes that such a favour might put her in Marie Astor’s good books. Perhaps her next sculpture could be titled “Woman and the Homeless” or something equally stupid. She grabbed her coat from the antique hat stand and went out the front door.
While not quite frosty, it was cold enough outside that Kate couldn’t help but pity anyone who had to sit in the open air. As she approached him the man’s eyes remained in place. Even when she came to a stop beside him, he kept staring through the window. Marie Astor was watching, waving her hand as if telling her to get a move on.
Kate opened her mouth to speak and was surprised to be interrupted before she could start. “What’s it look like? Up close I mean.” His voice was soft yet his speech was unclear. It sounded as if there were teeth missing in that mouth of his.
“What does what look like?” she was almost afraid to ask.
“First Light.” To anyone else it might have been a strange statement indeed, but to Kate it was a minor revelation. The tension left her body as she found herself quickly warming to the man.
“The painting?”
“Aye.”
Kate crouched down next to the man. “I was just looking at it, it’s beautiful. One of her best, I’ve always thought that.” She spoke softly, trying to be respectful to the man.
The man twisted at the waist to get a better look at Kate and smiled at her through the dirt on his face. “It’s my favourite too.” He returned to his former position and this time Kate followed his gaze. Perfectly framed by an open doorway, was the painting of the sunrise. “It makes me a little sad though, she said she’s done with painting.”
“It’s not for us to be sad about the decisions others make for their own lives. She created something wonderful and for that I am grateful.”
“I’m Kate by the way.”
“Bill,” he said with a nod.
“How long are you normally here for?” Kate asked awkwardly. She didn’t want to move the man and she hoped that if she could at least tell Marie Astor when he was leaving she might be put at ease.
“By 1 o’clock the sun’s on t’other side of the building. ‘comes too dark to see it and so I move on again.” Kate lifted the edge of her sleeve to inspect her watch. 1 o’clock was still over 2 hours away. It wasn’t that long in the grand scheme of things and Kate hoped the knowledge would be enough for Marie Astor.
“It was nice talking with you Bill.”
“You too Kate. Enjoy that painting while you can.” Kate waved goodbye, even though he wouldn’t see it. A force of habit.
Kate hurried back inside and Marie was stood waiting for her. She looked anxious to hear the news. “Well? Is he moving?”
Kate shook her head as she removed her coat. “Not until 1 I’m afraid. He seems harmless enough though, I don’t think you need to worry.” Marie scoffed. She folded her arms and began to pace along the hallway.
“Very well, I can handle that.” Kate was a little surprised to hear such positivity. Marie gestured for Kate to follow her back into the sculpture room. “I’ll get you started on your painting and then I’ll go out until that man is gone.”
“You’re leaving?” Kate allowed a hard edge to enter her voice. She was hear to be taught by Miss Astor, so to learn that she wouldn’t even be present for so long was angering.
Either Marie Astor was slow to pick up on it or she chose to ignore it. She waved her hand in the air. “Oh, not to worry, artists perform best when alone. You’ll still have my expertise for the rest of the afternoon.” She stood before her, hands on hips as she waited for Kate to get settled on her stool again. “Now, what I would like you to paint is this.” Marie Astor stepped aside and threw out her hands as if presenting to sculpture for the first time.
Kate frowned a little but had failed to be completely surprised. Marie carried on. “You can’t make one yourself but that doesn’t mean you can’t study the form. So, paint what you see from where you are and I’ll be back in a couple of hours.”
“Would it be okay if I move over there?” Kate pointed to the adjacent wall. She got the feeling that if she out-right asked to paint the sun then Marie would refuse. If the sun just happened to be behind the sculpture however…
“You’re in the perfect spot where you are, trust me.” Marie Astor gave her a wide grin. At least she seemed enthusiastic about something, Kate thought. Marie clopped away and Kate could hear the metal clinks of keys and the zip of handbag followed by the slamming of the front door.
Before Kate could think of the strangeness of being in her hero’s house alone, she started sketching her outlines. Her eyes flicked back and to between subject and canvas with intense concentration. She began so well. Then, her hand seemed to slow of its own accord. She was not at the right angle to see Bill who remained on the curb outside. Even so his presence seemed to weigh on her. If she were a braver person she would have let him in to see the painting with his own eyes. Her mind refused to allow it, instead deciding to show her the numerous ways in which such a scenario could go wrong.
Even so, Kate felt a strong urge to do something for him. He was a fan, just as she was. Why did she get to sit here, getting a lesson? A very hands-off lesson, but a lesson from her hero none-the-less. All while Bill sat in the cold, staring through a window at a painting that could barely be seen.
Kate picked up her pencil and got back to work. Pencils were quickly swapped for paints and brushes. She followed her guidelines and painted with speed. 2 hours was ambitious for this particular project and she hoped she could finish in the time. She glided the brush, leaving perfect trails of yellow, orange and reds. Her body adjusted for each motion. Sometimes leaning back, her arms sweeping sideways and sometimes bent over, her face an inch away from the canvas to create the details. She painted like a maniac, chasing the clock, refusing to let it beat her.
A few minutes past 1 and Kate was caught off-guard by the sounds of the front door opening. She shook her head, fighting the daze that often took over when she was in the middle of working. Her heart began to race as she stared at the creation in-front of her. It wasn’t quite finished, but it was as near as she would get. Marie Astor waltzed in, paper shopping bags hanging from her hands and a satisfied look on her face.
“I hope you’ve had a fun couple of hours, I certainly have.” She winked and placed the bags on the floor. “How did you get on?” She trotted over to Kate to take a peek at what she had done. The woman’s face dropped. “This isn’t what I asked Kate.”
“I know, I’m sorry.”
“Do you often struggle to follow simple orders?” Marie Astor un-buttoned her coat and shook it off. This was it, she’d ruined it. Destroyed what little reputation she had built. “Still, I suppose you at least painted something of mine.” Marie Astor lay her coat over her arm and paused. The corner of her mouth twitched and for a moment Kate was worried she might start an angry tirade. Instead she beamed down at her student. “In fact it might be an improvement.”
“Really?” Kate breathed.
“No,” Marie laughed. “But it’s exceptionally good given the time constraints. Why don’t we have a spot of lunch and then you can start on the painting you were supposed to make after we’re done.” Kate was relieved. Perhaps the old-painter was still in there somewhere.
“Sounds good, there’s just something I need to do first.”
Kate grabbed the canvas, wetting the tips of her fingers with paint and side-stepped out of the room. She reached the entrance hallway and stared at the door. She had to admit to herself that she hadn’t thought this through. “Miss Astor, do you mind getting the door?”
The woman nodded, a little startled by Kate’s strange behavior. She ran as fast as she could in her heels and opened the heavy door as far as she could. Kate took on each step one-by-one and landed on the street in a hop. She jogged around the corner, looking for Bill. She started to panic when she saw that his spot was empty.
The street had filled up with workers out on their lunches. Kate moved as best she could to cross the street and look for Bill. She span on the spot, careful to hold the canvas away from her, so the paint didn’t get smudged. As hard as she looked she just couldn’t see him. She heard a knock on glass and spotted Marie, back at the window. She pointed a finger as if over Kate’s shoulder. She turned around and there was Bill, shuffling away past a set of black bins.
“Bill!” Kate shouted. The man stopped and waited patiently as she caught up with him. Between breaths she spoke. “I’ve got a present for you. It’s not the real thing but I thought you’d like it.”
Bill’s face lit up, his eyes like gems shining in the dirt. His fingers reached towards it.
“Careful, it’s still wet,” Kate shrugged. Bill nodded, his expression suddenly serious. He took it from her, displaying more caution than if it were the greatest treasure.
“That’s a grand painting that is lass. You’ll have paintings hanging right next to hers someday.”
“That might be a ways off yet. But when that day comes I can reserve you a seat in the gallery if you like.” She patted him on the arm and he grasped her hand with a tight grip.
“Make it a comfy one eh?” He winked.
