IAN's POV :
- - - - - Three Months Later - - - - -
This is a piece of crap.
Staring at the half-painted canvas in front of me, I groaned internally and threw the brush in the can. I picked up the canvas and threw it in the garbage pile. This one wasn't gonna go anywhere either.
Lately, I was feeling a bit off with my work. Don't get me wrong, these past few months living with Emma was the best time of my life, but in terms of my creative work, I was hitting a wall.
It's funny, I did some of my greatest work when I was feeling like shit. But when I'm feeling great, my work was shit.
The great thing about working at this school was that I only need to teach for a couple of hours a day and I could use the rest of the day and their state-of-the-art facility to focus on my artworks. But when I had no inspiration, it didn't matter how much time I had, I couldn't come up with anything. I've made some things, sure, but they were all shit. Everything was so boring and redundant.
I need an inspiration. I need something new.
I was lucky enough the be nominated as one of New York's artists of the year and the Met Gallery commissioned me to put a special exhibition for them in the coming year. It was the Met we're talking about, not some coffeehouse or underground art gallery in Brooklyn. We were in the big leagues now. I couldn't possibly be putting up shit like this on their walls, next to Van Gogh or Monet. That would be a fucking disgrace.
Damn. I really need a fresh idea. Like, fucking now.
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Standing and pacing around in the studio wasn't gonna get me nowhere. So, I decided to go outside for some fresh air. It was a chilly day in late October, so standing around outside wasn't a good idea either. I thought about going to see Emma in her office, but then I remembered how crazy the people she worked with, and I wasn't gonna go in there again.
Crazy would be a mean thing to say. No, they weren't crazy, they were just fans of my work.
I ended up doing an interview with them a couple of months ago. I only did it because of Emma. I knew it would mean a lot to her. I hated doing interviews, though. I just wanted to do art and not have to deal with the whole fame thing.
Anyway, I was just mindlessly walking in front of the school slash studio, when suddenly I felt a tap on my shoulder. I turned around and I had to do a double look because I wasn't sure I was seeing right.
"Hey, Ian," Ally said to me. "It's been a while,"
"Ally?" I gaped. "What the hell are you doing here?" my tone was cold and flat. Things didn't end so well between us and we hadn't spoken since I quit the gallery. I wasn't in a good mood already, and her appearance in front of me wasn't helping either.
"Hey, don't look at me like that. I come in peace," she laughed dryly.
Narrowing my eyes at her, I noticed that even under the trench coat she was wearing, she had a little bump on her stomach.
"Are you...?"
"Six months pregnant, yeah," she nodded her head. "It's Richard's,"
"Congratulations," I replied.
"Thank you," she said, pausing for a moment before continuing, "After you and I had that falling out last year, I've done a lot of thinking... and I talked to Richard, I told him everything. He was willing to take me back. I thought I can't find anyone else in this world that would love me as much he does, so... we got married! And now we're having a baby," she smiled and shrugged, showing off her wedding ring to my face.
"Good," I told her. "I'm glad to hear that. You two will make great parents,"
"Thank you," she paused for a moment and there was awkward silence there. Clearing her throat, she then said, "Anyway, I've read an article about you in New York Magazine the other day. I thought it was odd since you don't like interviews. You never agreed to do them. But then I read the editorial team members' names, and I saw name Emma's in it,"
"Yeah, she works there now," I shrugged.
"So, are you two back together?" she asked.
"Yup," I said proudly. "We are,"
"No wonder," she chuckled. "You look good and happy,"
"Thank you. You do too," I said honestly.
We shared a look with each other and just stood in silence for a moment. It was getting a little too awkward for me, so I cleared my throat and shuffled away.
"Well, it's been great catching up, but I have to go," I said.
"Wait," she said as I took a step back. "I'm actually meeting someone here. I think you might wanna meet him too,"
"Who?"
"Sergio Rossi," she said.
"No way," I shook my head in disbelief.
Sergio Rossi was one of the greatest artists alive today. I was a huge fan of his work ever since I was in college, studying his contemporary artworks in my classroom. The idea that some like Sergio Rossi would be coming to my studio was beyond my wildest dreams.
"I got in contact with him a weeks days ago. He's in New York. He agreed to do an exhibition of some of his works at my gallery," Ally explained. "I told him about you and how we used to work the gallery together. I showed him some of your work and I told him you're a big fan of his. He said he wants to come down here and see more of your work,"
"Are you serious?" I narrowed my eyes at her.
"Do I look like I'm joking?" Ally asked back. And as if on cue, she saw someone coming towards us and she waved her hand, exclaiming, "Ah, there he is!"
I turned my head around instinctively, and there he was, Sergio Rossi himself in the flesh. He looked as cool as I thought he'd be. He was a man in his late 60s, but he was fit and lean. He was wearing a suit and his white hair was slicked neatly to the back. He looked like a cross between Richard Gere and George Clooney.
"Ally," he smiled brightly and opened his arms. Ally leaned in and they kissed each other on the cheek. "Buongiorno bellezza,"
"Sergio, it's so nice to see you again," Ally replied. Then she motioned towards me and said, "This is my friend, Ian Hayes, the guy I was telling you about,"
"Mr. Hayes, nice to finally meet you," Sergio Rossi stretched out his hand to me. "I've seen some of your work, and I must tell you, I'm impressed,"
"Thank you," I shook his hand firmly. "That's a huge compliment coming from you, Mr. Rossi,"
"Please, call me Sergio," he waved his hand carelessly and said, "Would you mind if I take a look inside?"
"Oh, please," I quickly went and grabbed the door, opening it for him.
Sergio Rossi walked into my studio. Ally followed right behind him. This was insane. I still couldn't believe this. My hero was walking into my art studio. Holy crap.
"Don't be nervous, he loves you already," Ally whispered to me as Sergio started walking around the room, scanning my artworks.
"Why are you doing this, Al?" I whispered back to her. After what she did, you can't blame for questioning her motives.
Smiling a genuine smile, she replied, "I owe you, Ian. Regardless of what happened between us, I still consider you one of my closest friends. I'm really sorry for what I've done. This is the least I could do,"
If Ally was lying to me, I couldn't tell. She sounded genuine and real.
"So, Mr. Hayes, I heard you also like to teach art," Sergio called out to me. I immediately went over to him. "I'm also a teacher, and an artist on the side,"
"Yes, I know. I follow your work. You're a big inspiration to me," I told him.
"How interesting, because now I found you to be an inspiration to me," he chuckled.
"Oh, please," I shook my head in disbelief. This guy was a genius artist and yet, he was so down to earth. It only made me admire him even more.
"It's true. I see a lot of raw honesty in your work that I don't see much in the contemporary art these days," he said, turning to one of my paintings on the wall, he said, "Like this one, for example. I love this one. It speaks to me in ways I can't explain in words,"
Sergio Rossi was referring to this big black painting with slashes of bright red paint in the middle. In between the slashes, there was something else on that canvas other than paint. If you look carefully, you could make out that there was a piece of red lace underwear, all torn up, but it sat beautifully in the middle of the painting. It was Emma's red lace underwear, the one she wore that night when we met.
"I call this one, A Broken Barrier," I said to him.
"There's a story behind it, I'm sure?" he looked at me meaningfully.
"Yes," I nodded my head. "It's about a girl,"
I couldn't help the smile forming on my face as I remembered that moment. To many people, this painting was only a painting. And even to those who noticed the red lace fabric, they couldn't possibly know what it means. It was a secret that only Emma and I shared, which was why I hated giving interviews and answering people's questions about what my paintings mean.
Sergio, like the true artist that he was, didn't ask about the meaning. But he seemed intrigued when I told him that it was about a girl.
"Ah, she must the muse," Sergio chuckled lightly. "Of course, it's about a girl. It always is,"
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It took about half an hour until Sergio Rossi finished going around the room. Ally and I were waiting on the side. He nodded appreciatively at almost everything. I let out a deep sigh every time he did. His approval meant a great deal to me.
Finally, when he was done, he turned to me again and said, "So, what are you working on lately, Mr. Hayes?"
"Nothing much... I, uh, am actually in a bit of a rut. I can't seem to make something I'm excited about," I shrugged.
"An artist's block, huh?" he said as he walked towards the door. I was walking right next to him. Ally was behind us.
"Yeah, something like that," I nodded.
"That happens to the best of us. That is why I travel so much," he then paused for a moment and leaned closer, whispering into my ears, "Are you, uh, still together with the lady in the story?"
"Yes, we are together," I smiled proudly. "We're engaged,"
"Congratulations. Life must be treating you well,"
"I can't complain," I chuckled.
"And thus the wall hits you,"
"Exactly," I nodded and smiled knowingly. He smiled knowingly right back.
"Perhaps you and your muse need to venture out of your comfort zone a little bit. Gain a new perspective," he said.
"What do you mean?" I narrowed my eyes at him.
Stopping for a moment, Sergio Rossi then took out his name card from his wallet and wrote something on it with his pen. Once he was done, he handed it to me.
"I tell you what, I'm a professor at Florence Academy of Fine Arts in Italy. I want to invite you and your fiancée to come and spend a summer in my home. You can assist me in my summer classes and focus on your work. What you call it, a... teaching fellowship?"
"Are you serious?" I gaped.
"Yes. You still have plenty of time before the summer of next year to get your business in order. Just send me an email, let me know in advance if you'll be coming,"
I felt like I was struck by lighting. My jaw fell open and my throat went dry. Spending a full summer in Italy, learning under the famous Sergio Rossi, and with Emma by my side, nothing could be greater than that. If someone asked me what my definition of heaven is, this would be it.
"Mr. Rossi... Sergio, I don't know what to say..."
"Just think about it and let me know," he said as he pushed the door open. If it wasn't for the cold autumn air hitting me in my face, I would believe that this was a dream.
"Thanks for the tour, Ian," Ally said to me. "I'll see you around,"
"Italy is a lovely place, Mr. Hayes," Sergio said as he waved his hand good bye and walked away. "Who knows? You might enjoy the change in scenery,"
Ally also waved good bye and she turned around, following right behind Sergio. My hand went up to wave back instinctively, but my brain was still processing everything. My eyes were glued to their backs as Sergio and Ally walked away, disappearing on the corner. I was still in complete shock. Everything happened so fast. Did that really just happen?
Did the art god that I had looked up to for the past twelve years really walked into my studio and complimented my paintings? And did he really invite Emma and me into his home for a full summer? A teaching fellowship in Italy? Is this all even real?
And then I looked down at my hand and read the name card Sergio gave me. He had written a note under his name and address.
Sergio A. Rossi
Florence Academy of Fine Arts
Via Aretina, 293, 50136 Firenze FI, Italy
"Mr. Hayes, sometimes even the muse needs a muse."
- - - - - To Be Continued - - - - -