The Artist Novels & Stories

Kim gloated and I looked down smiling, Michael had turned his body a bit to listen in on their conversation as they sold the idea that this is the ultimate painting everyone should have. "From a professional perspective, I think Laid Down is his best piece, you should go see that one before you decide ladies," I said to them and Gwen cocked her head to the side. "Professional? Are you an artist too?" "Yes, I just graduated though, but I'm also being featured here tonight," I said to them and they gave out impressed expressions. "Oh really?" Kim asked and I almost giggled at the sound of her snappy accent. "And what's the name of your piece miss?"

One of the first artists supported through the Oak Project. The woman looked nervous. Emotional. "I just wanted to say thank you." Jessica frowned. "For what?" The woman glanced towards the operating theatre doors. Then back again. "If it wasn't for Henri, I'd be dead." The statement landed with startling force. The young artist smiled sadly. "He didn't know that." A pause. "I never told him." Over the next several hours, more stories emerged. One after another. A musician whose career Henri had rescued. A painter he'd mentored for years.

The seriousness in her voice amused Chad and he wanted to know more about this mystery artist. “Why's that?” Chad asked and he saw her frown again. He knew she could see his interest and also his amusement. “Does he not like rainbows and pretty skies too?” the question was meant to ease her and when she giggled, Chad felt his heart swell. He wanted to always hear her laugh, always. “As I was saying,” she continued softly, “This artist, Hell's Demon, is proving to be the perfect pain in the ass.” A smile played at Chad's lips and she rolled her eyes accordingly. “I need to get him if I want to save my gallery.”

At the sound, he did not even look up; only the pencil in his hand paused for a brief moment. A black T-shirt stretched across his broad back, and with each breath, his shoulder blades lifted the fabric, outlining muscle lines taut with restrained power. In that instant, excited comments filled my vision: “Ahhh! Those shoulders! That waistline! I could just embrace him from behind…” “Hey, stop daydreaming! Henry is desperately suppressing the restlessness inside him. His woman is here, and he can barely hide his tail!” “So this is the legendary beast in human form? He’s just drawing… But why does it feel like he’s hunting instead?”

Mind telling me about it? He started laughing out loud hearing that. '' Now this is something a few might know. Even I hardly know about it.'' She moved her head in response. '' What do you mean?''. '' Well...I...don't like to get drunk with drinks. I like to get drunk with paints and art. They make me feel drunk than ordinary things. That's why.'' She looked away hearing that. He's an artist. She keeps forgetting about it day by day. Does he like art even more? han? '' Why am I thinking about whether his paintings are even more important than me? We are not the same are we?''.

I can sing, but I don't do it as a career only for fun. " Do you dance then?" My brows furrowed in annoyance. "No". I've never danced in my entire life... At least not reasonably. "Well the were you an actress?" What the... Acting? "I paint... I paint ". " Oh you meant you were an artist. " What's the freaking difference. And it's not 'were' I still am an artist, in my head and mind and heart. "Yeah... What you said". Guess theirs another way of pronouncing artist now.

Camila is an artist. She is a talented painter, but she has always struggled to find success. She meets Robert, who is a curator at an art museum. He is impressed by her work, and he offers to give her a solo exhibition at the museum. Camila is thrilled, but as the date of the exhibition draws near, she begins to doubt herself and her art. She is scared that her work is not good enough, and she worries that the exhibition will be a failure.

Some of them were in dire need, but regardless of that, the need shouldn’t lead them to whatever they were dealing with. “I understand that you are here seeking for sponsors, but I do not sponsor a project that I do not see benefitting or appealing. Though some of you have passed through my right hand’s review. Mine was the one that determined it, and I have chosen to not sponsor any of the projects.” Arturo said, looking at Anika. “First, I do not work with lawyers or cops. My apologies, but I have my own terms in this, and after investigating, some of you did indeed turn out being them. The issue is right now, you have a nice little question mark over your heads, and I believe that you kno

“One question at a time, okay? Besides, my boss got that painting about a year ago and he paid very handsomely for it. It will be a miracle to find that artist at the same spot.” Fuck! I told myself not to give up yet. There was still hope. “Do you know his name, at least? I think it will be easier to find him with that,” I asked desperately. “I never said it was a man,” Mario stated. “Huh?” “The artist is a female. She signs the name A.T on every painting but no one knows what it means. I do know her name has nothing to do with the initials. It's Sally Chan.”

I lower my head a bit while locking her eyes. "No. Bastian. Forget it. My paintings are mine." "Fine. I'll see them someday." I smirk. "But this..." I hold the pad up and tear off the picture. "Consider this one sold." I pulled out my money clip. "No, Bastian. I can't take your money." She protests. "Nonsense. A good artist should be paid for her art. Is 300 good?" Her eyes went wide. "300? For a sketch?......"