|Blogs > tattooedartist > Tales of the Bratt Prince|
By the pale moonlight....
By the pale moonlight....
She came to dinner, a long time friend. The first Ive had in my new home. It is finally complete, my new abode and I wanted this dear person to be the first to share a meal with me here. It is the home I have always dreamed of, wanted since I was young.
I spent all afternoon cooking a meal I have never cooked, I wanted it to be perfect. It turned out quite nice, if I do say so myself. I put out all the trimmings, right down to the new silver I just purchased at a local antique store. I played Brahms, as is my custom to do on such an occasion and I even put afire the gas burning Chandelier in the dinning room, which is actually my art room. We ate by a the dim light it gave off and the few candles I had going. It was simply charming, the mood was thick and beautiful.
As we ate we laughed and she said she simply was in love with the place probably more than she should be. Finally, hearing her approval, I relaxed. I stand firm on her opinions, as she is the only one to see my work before I show it.....ever. She is my closest friend and I adore her terribly.
As we sat and ate our conversation turned somber, at least in my opinion. She spoke to me of love, of my life and my future. Things that will quickly turn me quiet and polite.
She smiled at my silence and told me that if I was not careful I would grow old alone. That if I did not change my heart that I would never remember this peace. Steps later she smiled and said, "What do I know anyway."
As the dinner went her eyes kept peering to the other side of the large room, where my large easel sets under a bright white tarp. "A new painting?" She asked.
"Yes, the newest in my obsession." I responded.
As she sipped her wine and waited for me to give her the opportunity to see it there was a twinkle in her eye. "You are a madman, do you know this?" It got a laugh out of me and I went on to answer her that I damn well knew it, how could I not but I chose to stay quiet and just smile instead.
"What would you have me be my dear beloved...a priest?" I said.
"You damn near are now J! You never go out, really. You dont date, lord knows when the last time you got laid was!! You are obsessed with God and you go to confession as if there is something to confess or that there is actually someone listening!! Your life is madness, lived only in your dreams."
Her last statement hurt me terribly, although I would not show it. Truthfully, I did not need to show it, she knew it hurt me, without my response.
"So many of us are worried about you. We are wondering what you are doing with your life. What vision will you show to your daughter?" She spoke softly and with care.
"I will have my daughter see her father for what he is, not what she would have him be. That if I am so lucky, then maybe she will also have such vision when it comes time to choose her love. I will not lie to her or create some fairytale for the world only to destroy for her as her path lives on. I will not bare the weight of that knowledge."
She stared at me with a small smile on her face. "You really are mad, you really are but I love you for it. It really doesnt matter if you were to meet a woman anyway, we all know who your one true love is.......your art. Nobody will ever stand before that."
At this I laughed hard and strong, for I knew as well as she did that she was right. Painting is my first love. So well she knows me, yet she, like all the others stand on the outside looking in. There is only two people alive I have ever let into my inner womb.....my angel and my daughter. I am raising my daughter as I would have imagined any great person would have been raised. She may choose to be a housewife and nothing more, although I am not sure if she could have any more noble a cause. Either way, I am training her to see, to hear, to imagine a world all of her own. One painted in beautiful hues and lite by the pale of the moonlight sky. Just yesterday we sat in my studio and I watched as she did her best in her childish way to imitate her papa. She stood at her little mini easel and mushed her hands in the finger paint on her canvas. it brought tears to my eyes to watch as it does when I see her sitting at her piano. She truly is beautiful.
As we sat outside and smoked after dinner I asked her if she thought I was meant to live the life I lead. She looked briefly at me and said "I do not know but regardless, it is your choice either way."
Do I choose this life? I have felt compelled to paint and write since I was a child. The things that everyone call my "gifts" have always been there. So did I choose this life? Do you believe in fate.....destiny? Did Judas have a choice in his role in the crucifiction of Christ or was it his destiny? Someone had to betray Christ, therefore was he not just fulfilling his destiny? And the even harder question is one I brew on almost everyday.....if it was his destiny....will he still burn for his betrayal or did God grant him forgiveness for fulfillng His plan for his life?
Anyway, the dinner went well. She loved the house and when I showed her the new work I wasnt sure if she was sickened or thrilled, she was searching for a place to sit without looking for a chair. She was just backing up against the wall and sitting, as if she didnt care if there was something there. I left her in there with the painting for almost 30 minutes. Finally she came out on the back porch and told me that I had reached a level I had never been on before, that she was speechless. At her words, tears ran down my face. She sat and stared at me in shock and it was then that she realized how bad of shape I was in.
We didnt speak anymore of paintings or love....we just laughed and cried and I poured out my heart like I havent in years....I needed it.
Upon our hug she walked down the steps in front of my house and our to her car. For a woman in her mid forties she is vastly beautiful. Her husband passed away last year and it has been a long cold winter for all those who love her them both. The sun is beginning to shine now and the snow is melting for us all. A vast cavern of friends who have lost their way...each of us artist's in our own right.
After she was gone I drank the rest of the bottle of wine and sat out back and chain smoked and looked at the midnight sky, lost deep in thought. I fell asleep in the chair and did not wake for almost three hours.
When I woke up I thought of her first thing, my Angel. I had to look around to make sure she wasnt really there. It was as if I could smell her......ghosts in the darkness they say.
I am exhausted but I am going to work on the painting. Wanted to share with you, a few words from a somber heart. I am peaceful this night, lost in my neverland. How could I want it any other way.
8/7/2005 12:06 am
You are so eloquent. Always bringing forth images with your words. If your art is as evocative as your words, you are amazing.|
~~"I can scream as loud as your last one, but I can't claim innocence."~~
8/7/2005 5:02 pm
Many times when we are unaware it is others that are able to see what sometimes we ignore...we are all so similar yet so different...you are a Prince...that cannot be disputed.|
8/7/2005 5:45 pm
The pasion of an artist.. |
Yet there is so much more..
You seep sorrow
and love in the same breath..
To understand the canvas that you paint..
to decipher your soul..
I would love to see some of your work up close..