Posted Feb. 17, 2022, 4:15 p.m. by Civilian Mirembe M'Ahar (Director of Terraforming) (Trin S)
Posted by Civilian Eryn Romanov (Colonial Intelligence Agent) in Art for Art’s Sake - Tag M’Ahar
Posted by Civilian Karina Enger (Director of Education) in Art for Art’s Sake - Tag M’Ahar
Posted by Civilian Eryn Romanov (Colonial Intelligence Agent) in Art for Art’s Sake - Tag M’Ahar
Posted by… suppressed (5) by the Post Ghost! 👻
In the days leading through Eryn’s recovery there was a lot of work done behind the scenes. As well as many outings to learn the immediate layout near their current dwelling. They would have to move soon, but for now the safe house was mostly secure. During one of the those outings though, Eryn discovered several art galleries. And one just happened to be an auxiliary location for the gallery on Risa that had exclusive rights to her art work. A few hours on the computer, letters to the ‘Family’ and the gallery on Risa set things in motion. Later she was able to procure the materials and with endless quiet hours of work had Eryn in possession of a few mostly finished metal work pieces. With those put aside she made her way toward the gallery in question with the intention of speaking to the curator.“I vould speak to Ms Thostelistique…now.” Eryn always got her way. Blue eyes flashing and short cropped white blonde hair swirling like a storm around her. The nearest employee took in the woman with the mild Russian accent, the stance, visible scars across arms and one maybe even on her chest, and the aura of danger and decided she wanted nothing to do with it. Ms Thostelistique could deal with her.
The Risan woman appeared and stopped short staring at the back of the woman who was looking at a piece, “It’s very expensive.” It was clear she didn’t think Eryn capable of affording to the breathe the air in the gallery. Eryn turned slowly meeting the woman’s gaze head on. “And I’m sure it’s vorth every penny, plus your commission Ms Thostelistique. Eryn Romanov, we have business.”
Thostelistique paused, a bit stunned and then composed herself, her attitude changing immediately. “Ms Romanov. Yes of course I was told you were coming, but I didn’t quite believe it. Please come this way.”
“We are so pleased to be able to showcase some of your pieces Ms Romanov. I worked at our main location on Risa and always appreciated the detail of your pieces and the perspective they provided. I look forward to your first piece.”
Eryn nodded in appreciation. “I believe it shall be a very lucrative endeavor for both of us. Ze first piece vill be finished in less than a month.” She looked around the space as they walked. “I vould like to peruse vat is on display, yes?”
The woman nodded, “Of course, any time.” Eryn walked away from her, already dismissing her from her mind and made her way slowly amongst the pieces taking the time to enjoy each one.
Eryn Romanov
Ms Thostelistique for her part was very ready to collapse in the chair behind her desk. She’d made a very grave mistake. She knew of course that artists could be excentric, and Ms Romanov seemed to be one of the more level headed types. Other than wearing every day practical clothes, (rather than the expensive wardrobe her fortune could provide for her) Romanov was easy to deal with. Other than the woman was scary. She was a fosterling of the Korda family who was a patron of the arts and a huge supporter of their gallery. Her boss would be very upset if they lost their exclusive access to Romanov’s work. She sat at her desk and breathed a sigh of relief and started sketching a rough idea for a display of Eryn’s work.
Eryn made her way around the gallery. She loved art, not just creating but appreciating it. In her many years she had seen other artists who were incapable of appreciating the work and creation of others. That was not Eryn. She moved slowly about the gallery stopping at each piece whether she liked it or not, but to appreciate it anyway.
(bump)
Eryn RomanovMirembe took in a pensive breath and tilted her head, curiosity forging creases at her protruded temples. Though having strolled through the gallery—stopping and admiring—for nearly an hour, this piece struck her different. Abstract captured its style through deliberated scrapes and chips that manipulated a slab of driftwood into a work of art. Mirembe tucked her fingers as if gripping the hilt of the palm-sized blade that chipped away its outer flesh to reveal a pale heart. The echo of her worn and now-blunt knife felt hollow in her hand, but she brushed it away. Envisioning the jagged movements of the blade, she tried to decipher the image. Did it have a purpose? Or was it the product of a person’s boredom or agony? Mirembe resolved not to speculate.
Closing her eyes, she allowed her imagination the freedom to summon a concept from deceivingly jumbled and rambling lines. Bzz-Bzz-Bzz. Three vibrations tempted Mirembe from her trance with a warning of approaching footsteps. IAN was programmed to alert her of passersby out of her visual range, but his single warning (three buzzes) were generally safe. Generally. She leisurely peeled open her eyes, glancing behind her to find a young woman moving slowly through the displays. A friendly, perhaps unnoticed wave shifted Mirembe back to the abstract woodwork perched before her. Thoughts? She facetiously signed to IAN, who responded only with disinterested silence.
— Mirembe M’Ahar
Seeing the next piece - a drift wood carving, Eryn carefully approached the woman. She did not want to startle her in her meditations. She recognized her from outside the coffee shop. She had been speaking with the police commissioner. Eryn returned the wave, and perhaps mistook the signed Thoughts? as directed towards herself. Her signing was choppy and not quiet correct but she made the attempt. I like it. That despite the rough journey through the sea, the wood is still intact and interior, though now exposed in places, is delicate and soft.
Eryn
Mirembe caught a flash of movement and tilted her head to glimpse fumbling hands. Sign language. Though donning raised eyebrows with a mouth slightly agape, the Haliian soon came to smile. She recognised the woman, but she couldn’t place from where in the sea of faces and places she encountered daily. It once belonged to something majestic, Mirembe assented, only find itself detached and demoralised in the hands of an artist. She studied the driftwood presenting as nature intended: jagged and raw. Someone who reminded it of its beauty. M’Ahar stole a final glance at the piece and turned to the woman beside her. “I don’t believe we ever formally met. I’m Mirembe M’Ahar,” she then extended a calloused hand.
— Mirembe M’Ahar
Eryn looked at the piece, “Sometimes ve must hit rock bottom in order to find vhat ve have lost. Only in strife do ve find vhat truly makes us unique.” She tilted her head looking at the piece one more time, “I like it.” Eryn took her hand and shook it. Her hand wasn’t quite as calloused but it was rough and strong. “I am Eryn Romanov. I have only recently moved to Oed. A pleasure Mirembe M’Ahar.”
Eryn Romanov
Bump
“It sounds like you speak from experience,” Mirembe mused but made no gesture to pry. Folks’ experiences moulded their interpretation of a piece, but they weren’t necessary to appreciate another’s perspective. Smiling, Mirembe grasped Eryn’s hand in a hearty shake and, heartbeats later, gestured in an invitation to resume their stroll through the exhibit. “‘Mirembe’ is just fine, but the pleasure’s mine, Eryn Romanov.” M’Ahar lifted her gaze to the adjacent display, a clay structure, and leisurely approached. “What brought you to Oed?”
— Mirembe M’Ahar
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