Nothing But The Truth

10: Unpredictable

I took in a deep breath as I set up the last piece of my abstract collection. It was a collection of seven abstract paintings that I had recently worked on. They were the best ones I had done yet and I was quite proud with how they had turned out. I had learned a lot from the art school in the little time I had been attending and anyone could tell how much I had improved. I had finally felt like a true artist, especially after I had gotten a call from a curator wanting to see my works.

Mr Demi had been a friend of Henry's mother. He had been looking for up and coming artists to include in his upcoming showcase and Henry had recommended me.

According to Henry, Mr Demi held an art showcase every four months where he showcased new talents and the turn outs were always great. It was a wonderful opportunity to get my name out there in the art world and I was truly grateful to Henry for recommending me. This could have been my big break. Finally.

I had booked a studio at the academy and set up my best works for Mr Demi to see. He had promised to drop by at noon and there was just a few minutes left to go.

I took a step back to assess the paintings one last time, ensuring I had arranged them in the right order and none of them were hanging upside down or skewed to the side. Once I was certain everything was in order, I gave myself a mental pat on the back.

Just then I heard a soft knock on the door and I glanced to the left to see a man in a pure white suit walk in. The man looked to be in his early or mid forties and was of a small stature, however, he didn't look like someone that could be looked down on. He had the aura of a leader, he carried himself like one too and in all honesty, I began to feel intimidated although I stood much taller than him.

"Mr Demi, welcome!" I put on a smile as I walked towards him. I stretched out my hand to shake him and he took my hand in a firm shake. He took a look round the studio before his eyes settled on my collection.

"Hmm." He hummed as he walked closer to the paintings, crossing his arms behind him as he began to assess my work. "And what do you call this?"

"Down to earth." I answered, stepping up to him.

I had used earthy colors; green, brown, red and black to create a splash of simplicity and chaos. From the first painting, it progressed from a simple touch of colors to an explosion of colors and back to a soft touch of the brush on paint. It was expressive and attention grabbing. Henry had said so himself.

"Hmm." The man hummed once again and my heart began to pound in my chest as he continued to stare at the paintings with a blank expression. I couldn't even tell whether he liked it or not.

After a few minutes, Mr Demi gave a nod and turned to me. I straightened my position and prepared myself for his critique. Hopefully, he had nice things to say. I really loved these pieces and I hoped he did as well.

"You're a promising young artist." He began. "You have a creative mind which is something all artists need, however, your work is boring."

I felt my heart sink at this comment. He thought my work was boring. This? This masterpiece? How?

"I have seen thousands upon thousands of paintings in my almost thirty years as a curator and an art critique and I must say that your paintings most certainly do not stand out." He pointed out, gesturing my paintings with his hand. "Your paintings are too safe, too predictable. There is no risk, no edge, no emotion. It's all too predictable and bland."

I glanced down at my feet, feeling a wave of disappointment wash over me. I had poured my heart out into these paintings and he called them emotionless and predictable? What was he seeing that I couldn't?