Enfold by Sorel J. J

Author:Sorel, J. J. [Sorel, J. J.]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Amazon: B079TLQC64
Goodreads: 51491910
Publisher: Independently Published
Published: 2018-02-15T08:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

I dropped into the VHC to see how things were going in the world of art making. Although Roy had set up his own studio, he still attended the classes for Chris’s expert guidance and to hang out with his friends.

I stood in the room laden with canvases, moving from image to image. There was lots of variety, from contemporary abstract art to vases of flowers, portraits, landscapes, and images of pets.

It was inspiring being there. Just like the first time I walked into that room to observe the program in full flight, I was struck by how fruitful Aidan’s scheme had been. Most of the students who had come bearing heavy scars were at that moment, in my eyes, at least, transformed. I could tell by their concentrated attention that they were absorbed in what they were doing. I could see that they’d invested their heart and soul into their creations.

Chris was instructing a woman on how to mix color and apply it with a palette knife.

He glanced up and asked me, “What do you think?”

I studied the self-portrait rendered in crude brush and palette knife strokes, reminiscent of Van Gogh.

“It’s fantastic.” I smiled at the artist. She gazed up at me with a shy smile of gratitude.

“Chris, the work is mind-boggling. You’re really bringing the best out of students.”

He rubbed his messy blond hair, making it stick up all over the place. He really looked as if he’d rolled out of bed and dressed in the dark. But then, that was Chris. He had that grunge thing happening. Not that I believed he designed it that way. That concept would have been abhorrent to someone as original as Chris. But he was a type. Just as we all were.

“I can’t say it’s my doing, Clarissa.”

“You’re being too modest,” I countered, glancing up at the woman whose work we were studying.

She nodded in agreement with me.

“Chris is a grumpy so-and-so,” she said with a chuckle. “But he’s brought my markings to life. That’s for sure.”

“They’re more than markings. It’s a terrific self-portrait,” I said.

“There are some great pieces,” said Chris, directing me to his office. “I especially like some of the abstract-expressionist ones. Did you see Mary’s canvas?”

“I did. It’s very original and fashionable at the same time.”

“My thoughts exactly. Speaking of which, have you set a date for the next auction?” He gestured with his arm for me to enter his office.

“I asked Aidan, and he thought we could run one in a month’s time. I will have to send out the invites and market it. That shouldn’t be hard. I’ve been swamped with requests for placement on the mailing list.”

Chris nodded. His lips formed a lazy smile. I was sure he’d been up all night. His face had that pale-and-haggard look about it.

“Yep, the program has had good press, all right. You’re a talented publicist, Clarissa Moone.”

“I’ve done very little. I just got in touch with some art publications and websites and plugged the philanthropic element.” I smiled.

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