Artwork Essay Novels & Stories

"Two years. It's in my office. Some days it's the best thing in the room." "Nadia would love to hear that." "Does she know her work does that to people?" "She knows. She pretends she doesn't because she thinks it'll jinx it." He smiled. It rearranged his whole face, that smile. Made him look younger, less composed and more like a real person. We talked for a while about art the way I rarely got to talk about it outside of work, not the commercial conversation about value and investment but the actual thing underneath, what it did to a room, what it did to a person standing in front of something that was made specifically to be felt.

Some of the paintings are puzzles that one would take days to unravel while others are simple depictions of relatable situations that cause a burst of emotion. "I haven't seen actual good art in numbers in a long time. Your artists have true talents," I say, gazing at the most creative of the arts. A spinning drawing whose image appears to change into something else as it moves. "There is something a lit better that you need to see," Weiss says, pulling my hand towards the curving staircase. There are more people heading that way. What better art than this could this gallery actually have?

Arthur said. "I've never thought about it like that. I... I always thought my art was rejected because I wasn't good enough an artist," Leslie said in a small voice. "And that's where I come in, my dear," Arthur said with kind eyes. He dipped his hands into his pockets and brought out a flyer, handing it over to Leslie. Her eyes skimmed over it, widening a bit. It was a flyer for the grand opening of a new art gallery in the heart of town.