Robert walked his bike up the front walk. Jane's voice came out the screen door loud enough to be heard over the windchimes.
“Work you son-of-a-bitch!” a moment of silence. “GodDAMMIT. Come ON!”
Robert paused at the first porch step, waiting to see if she would slam the front door shut.
“Jesus. Finally!” Robert propped his bike on the porch and approached the screen.
“Hey Jane? Can you let me in?” he called.
“Hang on Bobby!” a second later Jane appeared, her apron streaked with paint. Paint was smeared on her fingers and her face where she'd brushed her hair away. A loaded palette was in her left hand, in her right she held what looked like a putty knife. She elbowed the door open. “Hey sweetie, come on in.” She leaned in to kiss his face, but he leaned away.
“AHH! Don't get paint on me. What are you doing this time? Dolphins?” he tossed his Danish school bag on the sofa and followed her into what she called the studio.
“Mountains with trees. I think I'm getting the hang of it.” Jane retreated to the second bedroom where she kept her easel. A metal TV tray stood next to it. On it were tubes of oil paint, squeezed in the middle and oozing from their uncapped openings. Drops of paint spattered the wood floor, the windows, the tray and a few spots clung to the ceiling. Her Mac had been placed on top of a dresser, far enough away to be safe from flying pigments. “Hit play for me will ya?”
“Weren't you doing mountains with trees last time?” Robert used his finger to move the cursor to the 'play' symbol and tapped.
Jane took her place before the canvas, putty knife poised. The canvas had been smeared with gray and black paint in a vaguely triangular pattern over a background of streaky blue and white. Green paint stuck to the edges in patches.
“I have to add the tree trunks.” Jane dipped up a generous dollop of black paint on her putty knife.
“......now, just lightly lightly draw in our friend's trunk.” The man on the computer screen with the curly hair seemed to just breathe his painting instrument down the canvas, leaving a perfectly straight line which faded out at the appropriate places and looked, in fact, like a tree trunk for an evergreen tree.
Jane took her overloaded putty knife and yanked it down the canvas, adding a heavy black line at the beginning but scraping off paint near the end.
“Now then. We'll take a clean and very dry large brush. Now this is...” the rest of the video instructor's words were drowned out by Jane dunking her large brush enthusiastically in a jar of liquid and then hitting it repeatedly against the leg of her easel. Flicking turpentine and paint on Robert when she did.
“Hey! Watch what you're doing Grandma Moses. You almost got that in my eye. What happened to your paint knife thingie?”
“It broke. How was work?” Jane dragged the mostly dry brush along her painting, attempting to blend colors, but mostly making brush marks.
“Boring. I'm thinking of going back to school again.” Robert sat on the floor with his legs stretched out in front of him. “Maybe I'll be a vet.”
“You'd be good at that. Maybe you could do something about all the cats around here. Fix them so they don't have litters under the house.” Jane took up a smaller paintbrush.
“......we'll add in all the little grassy things that live right up in here. See? There they are. Use a light touch with this misty green....” the frizzy haired man said from the Mac's screen.
Jane stabbed at the canvas making big green dots. “What do you want to do for dinner? I put a chicken in the over but I can save that for tomorrow.”
“No, chicken's good. I'll be right back.” Robert headed to the bathroom. He closed the door halfway and heard Jane whacking at the canvas.
“...maybe a little path lives right in here. Just go back and forth with the fan brush....” he heard the man's soothing voice instruct. Whack whack whack he heard Jane pummel her picture. Then her voice softly, “Oh, shit.”
Robert wandered back into the studio. “I love plumbing. Have I told you that? Plumbing is amazing. “
“Work you son-of-a-bitch!” a moment of silence. “GodDAMMIT. Come ON!”
Robert paused at the first porch step, waiting to see if she would slam the front door shut.
“Jesus. Finally!” Robert propped his bike on the porch and approached the screen.
“Hey Jane? Can you let me in?” he called.
“Hang on Bobby!” a second later Jane appeared, her apron streaked with paint. Paint was smeared on her fingers and her face where she'd brushed her hair away. A loaded palette was in her left hand, in her right she held what looked like a putty knife. She elbowed the door open. “Hey sweetie, come on in.” She leaned in to kiss his face, but he leaned away.
“AHH! Don't get paint on me. What are you doing this time? Dolphins?” he tossed his Danish school bag on the sofa and followed her into what she called the studio.
“Mountains with trees. I think I'm getting the hang of it.” Jane retreated to the second bedroom where she kept her easel. A metal TV tray stood next to it. On it were tubes of oil paint, squeezed in the middle and oozing from their uncapped openings. Drops of paint spattered the wood floor, the windows, the tray and a few spots clung to the ceiling. Her Mac had been placed on top of a dresser, far enough away to be safe from flying pigments. “Hit play for me will ya?”
“Weren't you doing mountains with trees last time?” Robert used his finger to move the cursor to the 'play' symbol and tapped.
Jane took her place before the canvas, putty knife poised. The canvas had been smeared with gray and black paint in a vaguely triangular pattern over a background of streaky blue and white. Green paint stuck to the edges in patches.
“I have to add the tree trunks.” Jane dipped up a generous dollop of black paint on her putty knife.
“......now, just lightly lightly draw in our friend's trunk.” The man on the computer screen with the curly hair seemed to just breathe his painting instrument down the canvas, leaving a perfectly straight line which faded out at the appropriate places and looked, in fact, like a tree trunk for an evergreen tree.
Jane took her overloaded putty knife and yanked it down the canvas, adding a heavy black line at the beginning but scraping off paint near the end.
“Now then. We'll take a clean and very dry large brush. Now this is...” the rest of the video instructor's words were drowned out by Jane dunking her large brush enthusiastically in a jar of liquid and then hitting it repeatedly against the leg of her easel. Flicking turpentine and paint on Robert when she did.
“Hey! Watch what you're doing Grandma Moses. You almost got that in my eye. What happened to your paint knife thingie?”
“It broke. How was work?” Jane dragged the mostly dry brush along her painting, attempting to blend colors, but mostly making brush marks.
“Boring. I'm thinking of going back to school again.” Robert sat on the floor with his legs stretched out in front of him. “Maybe I'll be a vet.”
“You'd be good at that. Maybe you could do something about all the cats around here. Fix them so they don't have litters under the house.” Jane took up a smaller paintbrush.
“......we'll add in all the little grassy things that live right up in here. See? There they are. Use a light touch with this misty green....” the frizzy haired man said from the Mac's screen.
Jane stabbed at the canvas making big green dots. “What do you want to do for dinner? I put a chicken in the over but I can save that for tomorrow.”
“No, chicken's good. I'll be right back.” Robert headed to the bathroom. He closed the door halfway and heard Jane whacking at the canvas.
“...maybe a little path lives right in here. Just go back and forth with the fan brush....” he heard the man's soothing voice instruct. Whack whack whack he heard Jane pummel her picture. Then her voice softly, “Oh, shit.”
Robert wandered back into the studio. “I love plumbing. Have I told you that? Plumbing is amazing. “
“You tell me that every time you move your bowels.” Jane flung more paint on.
“Not EVERY time.”
In the kitchen, a timer started to ring, indicating dinner was ready.
“Not EVERY time.”
In the kitchen, a timer started to ring, indicating dinner was ready.
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