Artistic Names Novels & Stories

Her touch is soft, and I feel so comfortable that not even her cold fingers could bother me. “I’m going to run a few tests. Please tell me everything, so I can appoint a specialist if there is any need for one, okay?” I nod again, and she smiles proudly, continuing to talk while she prepares a needle. “I’m Artemis, by the way, but you can call me Arte.” Thinking of it, with her flawless skin, she looks like a piece of art. A Botticelli. “That’s a beautiful name. I’m Victoria,” I blurt out, and she chuckles softly.

Mia's POV I found myself captivated by the vibrant strokes of color dancing across the canvas, each brushstroke a reflection of the artist's soul. His name was Julian, a charismatic and enigmatic figure who seemed to breathe life into his art. His studio was a sanctuary of creativity, filled with an array of unfinished masterpieces and the scent of oil paints that hung in the air.

"That was fast." "I am motivated." I smile. Finish the last line. Set down the charcoal. Turn to look at him. He is still in his suit, but he has loosened his tie. He looks tired but good, and tired. The kind that comes from doing something that matters. "What are you going to call it?" I ask. "The Claire Bennett Foundation for Emerging Artists." I go very still. "What?" "Your mother's name. I am naming it after her. If that is okay with you."

I asked, knowing her wolf loved naming things. Ariel shook her head, “don’t even ask. She already has a whole list and half of it is so crazy. Arla is the most normal one, combing our names. But I don’t like it.” “What about Sweets? That is what Easton always calls you.” Ati said. “Sweets? Or maybe sounding more official we could do Sweets and co.” I said to Ariel. We googled the name and actually found several businesses with that name.

"And what's the name of your piece miss?" "Seasons, it was my final project at school and surprisingly it did really well," I said and they snapped their fingers. "But please, Laid Down and Bold Rest are extremely amazing, go check them out," I said and they left. "Professional artist? Featured here? You?" Michael asked and I cocked my head to the side. "Surprisingly I really thought you'd have tabs on me this entire time," I said crossing my arms over my chest. "Guess I was fooling myself."

As she made her way through the crowd, she spotted a familiar face amidst the sea of strangers. Her artist friend, with his colorful attire and expressive demeanor, was waiting for her at a corner booth just like she had expected. They had crossed paths a few times at this very nightclub and twice at local art exhibitions, but they never shared names. To her he was the ‘Artist’, and he always referred to her as the ‘Businesswoman’. Yet, something about him had always intrigued her—a sense of understanding and empathy that seemed to radiate from him.

Bobby nodded his head before speaking, “Yes!!” “Okay! But don’t run.” With this, Artemis put him down. Both the couple decide to keep ‘Bobby’ as his nickname while his name in school would be ‘Artin Silvano Gosling’ Artin was the mixture of their name while ‘Silvano’ was the name of his uncle, by blood, Bobby was his grandson, so Artemis suggested to give Bobby his real grandfather name. Actually, he had stolen this idea from Caroline’s family; he had observed every kid had either a first or second name from their ancestors. For example, Caroline’s name was the second name of her late grandmother, Colton and Calvin’s middle name was the first name of their grandfather, and so on.

He came back with a thin file. "Sophia Chen, twenty years old. Runs a gallery under the name Sera Morningstar. Started eighteen months ago, already profitable. Art degree from NYU, graduated early. No social media presence worth mentioning. Lives alone in SoHo. Doesn't date publicly." "Why the different name?" James shrugged. "Artists do that sometimes. Separation between personal and professional." I stared at her photo a candid shot from an art magazine. She was looking at something off-camera, and that same intensity was there. Like she could see through everything.

Kara’s POV. Because I couldn’t use my actual name on my paintings, I signed all my paintings under the name Jesse Brady. “You’ve got a good name,” Sean told me after we finalized the contract for my artistic debut. “Very gender neutral. Good for confusing the sexists.” I didn’t love the idea of people coming to see my art thinking I was a guy, but as a new artist, I needed all the edge I could get.

That was the first rule I made with Tami, the owner of the atelier in Brooklyn who’d agreed to help me produce it. “It’ll be our secret,” she said that first day in her cozy backroom studio, her curls piled high and wild above her head. “But this work, Eloise? It deserves a name that carries its own magic.” So we came up with Alira. Just a name pulled from the ether, no personal history, no association, only a beginning. One that didn’t come with Lucian’s shadow or Jennifer’s poison trailing behind. And yet, every time I checked our modest online store, the numbers slowly ticked up.