While art is subjective, your hate for Stephen Vincent Strange was pure and simple. An arrogant, crude and tasteless man. One of close-minded thinking and a lack of creativity.
This was the type of person any artist like you would despise.
~~~
All...
Reluctantly, Strange found himself standing in front of the closed doors of your studio, Peter by his side. It was weeks later, after a delay from a busy Peter, but eventually, a day to help get everything done was found. Apparently, the tests had been postponed due to senior pranks, however, all was back on track.
"Oh, you'll love it! Y/n always has something cool in the works," Peter tilts back and forth on his heels before knocking again.
"Coming!" You yell, stumbling from your desk and knocking over some paint cans, "Son of a-." Fixing it up with your magic, you pry open the door, appearing dishevelled and sleep-deprived.
"Hey, Y/n... you okay?" Peter looks at you concerned.
You rub your eyes, "hm? Yeah, come in," you use your magic to freshen yourself up. "Sorry, got a commission, and this guy is not working with me," you point to the half-coloured figure running around the canvas and shouting in Italian for you to give him clothes. "I was going to! You kept complaining about the pattern!"
"Vai a morire ammazzato!" He throws an empty vase onto the ground.
"Screw you!" you grab a cloth and place it over the canvas. "Yeah, not so tough when you're covered, are you?" tussling your hair, you soon look over to the concerned two, "Ignore it... and Peter knows these rules, but since you don't: Do not touch anything. You can look, but if you touch anything, then getting Hulk smashed will look like mercy compared to what I'll do."
"Frightening," Strange mutters sarcastically, sitting down on a stool while Peter lays his things out on a desk you clear. "We will start with gene expression since you said you struggled with that,"
Sitting on the floor again, you continue another less aggressive painting than the commission. A woman in a small black dress fixing on her heels was interrupted by a man walking over and taking her hand. You let a navy build on his suit as he kissed her hand, looking into her eyes under the dim lights. He then allowed her hand to move and cup his face, her eyes darting to you and pointing to her lips, which you painted red. Within seconds, they share a heartfelt kiss, your lips tilting up with a small laugh.
"PG, guys, come on now," you paint her heels the same red, but just the bottom. "Go on, give it to her," you encourage the man, who pulls out a small box with a beautiful necklace. It was a romantic scene, his hands moving against her neck as he clasped the necklace shut, her half-hooded eyes and his of the same devotion.
Stephen had trailed off his lecture, letting Peter continue some practice questions while he saw the painting unfold. It was like a small story, one blossoming into a stunning conclusion. Every brush stroke was like a ripple; an alternate reality, an agile process he couldn't deny was enchanting at the very least.
"Is this good?" Peter looks to Stephen, whose eyes quickly avert from you.
"Let me see," he sees the short answer and gives a few comments, giving him near full marks, "that's about it, but still, really good job," for the next half hour, Peter was helped with biology until it was your turn.
Stephen resumed his own work while you sat Peter down beside you. "Got you two paintings here, Dalí and Magritte," you hand him two printouts of their paintings, "tell me two things you can see these paintings have in common,"
"Surrealist, cool colour scheme and... of landscapes?" he says unsurely.
"Well, why the hell do you need my help, Parker? You got it down perfectly," you tease, holding up a structure for an essay, "we got the compare and contrast and short analysis,"
Stephen did his best to zone out, but something urged him to listen. Understand. It was like a weird churn in his stomach saying this would be useful. He knew it was useless, but he kept up with what you said.
"Art isn't easy, so just do these questions, do your best, and I'll quickly get us some snacks," you walk past Stephen without a glance, focusing on... not focusing on him, ironically enough.
~~~
"What else can you see? Describe the colours," you wait patiently as Peter tries to find the words.
His mind turned up empty-handed, but it seems Stephen's didn't, "the saturation of the colours help express the intensity of the emotions. The blue is dominant, therefore showing a dominant feeling of sadness," he says smoothly.
You and Peter both turn to him, Peter looking as if he was just told how to use a knife and fork while you form a soft smile. "You'd only get half marks because the question asks to describe, not form meaning,"
Strange scoffs out of spite, closing his book as Peter is allowed to continue his Biology project after a short break. He went to the bathroom and maybe took a small nap, which you could hardly blame him for.
"Not bad," you clean your brushes before continuing on the painting depicting the lovers. "Maybe you're not a lost cause,"
"Art is easy," he lets Peter's biology book float your way, "try and tell me what gene expression is,"
You push the book back his way and sip at your tea, "it's molecular production through the process of cells reading genetic coding within DNA," placing the cup down, you see the dumbfounded look. "Hold on, can you keep that pose? I think it will go well with my exhibition 'Idiots proven wrong'," you wave your hands in the air, imagining the title in blinding lights.
"Ha, ha," he shuts the book and goes back to his own, "art is still easy,"
"And so is biology," turning back to the painting, a spark of magic caused a few pencils and papers to bounce over to him, "but art also includes a practical aspect,"
"Yeah, no," he pushes them away, his gloves being adjusted. "Not my thing,"
"Not so easy, now is it?" you then think for a second about the man on the canvas, "wait, the navy isn't working with her lipstick; come here," you gesture.
~~~
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I'm so tired and I have a presentation and proposal for my final creative piece tmrw
