Lauren Faust Art Novels & Stories

I muttered “Ah Indie is an artist in case you didn’t guess” Lilah called in from the lounge “ every spare space is covered with paints or canvases. One of the reasons she wanted her own space” I glanced at the artwork before I turned off the light, her work was amazing, a real mixture of portraits, pop art styles, and a few landscape thrown in.

"But surely, there must be something you desire, something that ignites a passion within you, right?" I hesitated, the weight of responsibility still pressing down on me. But a flicker of yearning stirred within, and I found myself daring to voice a long-suppressed dream. "I've always had a love for art, for painting. In my quieter moments, I find solace in creating something beautiful on canvas." Alucard's eyes brightened with excitement, his genuine enthusiasm contagious. "That's wonderful, Faustina! Art has the power to capture emotions and transcend boundaries. I would love to see your paintings someday."

Laura stood in her art studio, the large windows overlooking her new city. Sunlight streamed in, illuminating the colorful chaos of her work: canvases stacked against the walls, brushes overflowing from jars, and half-finished paintings scattered across the floor. It was her sanctuary, a place where she could lose herself in creativity and try to forget the turmoil in her heart.

I scoffed to myself. What I wanted was a painting—one by the elusive, world-renowned artist Ellaine Laurant. No one knew who she really was. She was a faceless artist. Completely anonymous. Ellaine Laurant first made waves after she painted a piece of a mother and child. The image stirred hearts. Many were left in awe—some even cried—because somehow, that painting spoke louder than any words could. It made you feel. Its value doubled when a prominent figure bought it. After that, people scrambled to find her works.

She tried to assure him as she looked down at their intertwined hands. "Is there a problem concerning your works with the Gallery? Or are you having difficulties with the house decorations?" He asked even when he was sure that it was neither of the above. After showing her works to one of the top Art Galleries in the country, the owner fell in love with Lauren's work and immediately agreed for Lauren to display her collections in the Gallery.

He kissed Lila on the cheek, gave Ethan a firm handshake, and barely looked at me as he sat down. The waiter took our orders, but the tension at the table was thicker than the marinara sauce. Lila started first, ever the peacemaker. “So, Kira, how’s the gallery going? Any exciting new artists?” I took a sip of water, trying to keep my voice steady. “It’s good. I’ve been doing a lot of private viewings lately. Some really powerful contemporary work Tschabalala Self, Christina Quarles, Avery Singer. Bushwick is producing some incredible stuff right now.”

Adrian’s rule: “In the atelier, you earn your place by hand, not by name.” The hallway stretched endlessly, lined with glass-encased displays of past Laurent masterpieces—runway pieces that had once stopped the world mid-breath.. She recognized them all—she’d studied every Laurent runway show from her cramped foster bedroom, sketching her own versions on cheap paper. Now she walked past them as the woman whose name was etched into the brass plate on the door at the end. Crystal Laurent, Executive Chair & Head of Design. She pushed open the door to her office and stopped.

I wanted to have that moment alone with Lauren, since after what happened earlier today, something in me found it necessary to do something to soften that day. -You are also involved with art, or you just have the pleasure of managing the gallery? Lauren asked out of nowhere, making me look at her. -I always liked art, I think it's a beautiful way to express yourself. And well, I enjoy it, and I venture to paint and draw sometimes. But it has been a long time since I have done something. -Why?

María commented as she gently stroked her back. Arabella watched them in silence, her gaze sweeping over her stepsister. Lauren was wearing paint-stained overalls and her hair was tied up in a messy bun. She was frozen for an instant. She hadn't known that Lauren was also an artist, and a tightness settled in her chest. Lauren noticed her, and without trying to hide it, rolled her eyes in annoyance. She frowned for a second, but regained her composure and looked directly at her. "What is this woman doing here?" she asked with venom in her voice.

The conversation lasted twenty minutes. Twenty uncomfortable minutes. Laurent moved slowly through the gallery, asking questions about various pieces. On the surface, everything appeared normal. Professional. Expected. The sort of interaction Jessica had handled dozens of times before. Yet the feeling never left. It sat quietly beneath every word. Every smile. Every glance. Waiting. Watching. Laurent stopped in front of one of her paintings. A newer piece. Created after arriving in Paris. The city skyline emerging from layers of shadow and light.