art

“Nearer their home, the church bells clanging to ten, and chuckling because their hands and elbows kept knocking in the dark….”

“When quiet found a moment to be heard, their breaths warmed the scent of salt and moisture on their hands and thighs.”

“Arturo spread their warm worn blanket, thin but protecting, alongside the fold-out windbreak meant for the winds in winter.”

“At the city’s boundary wall, they stopped, looked back at the lights of the hotel, held each other briefly with tenderness….”

My excerpt series from my novella, The Old American Artist, is nearing the end of its initial run!

“The room around them returned slowly. People approached. Congratulating them. On the show, on their togetherness. ‘Your show looks fabulous,’ Rosetta said to Arturo, ‘Macario came through.'”

“Arturo caught sight of Rosetta and immediately felt his heart expand. Her legs split the fold in her dress as she stepped….”

“A brief gust shook the large panes ever so slightly, barely a tremor of vibration. ‘I think it’s her….'”

“‘I thought food was being served…’ Me too, smiled Arturo….”

“‘…come! We must present you,’ Macario smiled, wrapping the air with his arm around Arturo as if placing an elegant cloak on his back.”

“Arturo had arrived along this stretch of the Mediterranean with Rosetta less than a year ago….”

“Freshly bathed and dressed in the deep blues of the ocean night nearby, Arturo entered the main ballroom reserved for art shows, weddings, graduations, conventions, and political gatherings. Almost anything anyone could pay or trade for.”

“At the entrance to the grande fortress hotel, set from the beach to midway up the rough hill facing the ocean….”

“The warm dense air of OccupyInternational gave way to cooler breezes from the sea as Arturo neared the small art town….”

“From the top of hill, Arturo saw what reminded him of a circus encampment, only without a big top.”

“Temperatures had risen briefly above freezing the day before, softening snow and ice and reforming them into an Arizona badlands of rolling slippery ant hills crusted white and dirty grey.”

“The morning cold dawned as promised in Vermont, steely with ice, snow, and brilliant sunshine.”

“Many of the inhabitants, it often turned out, had been previous occupiers in other lands….”

“Ahead, as Arturo ambled toward his long awaited evening art show, glowing in the amber night, around and down the next small hill, lights from the area’s newest tourist attraction….

“Temperatures continued to drop into the mid teens, with snow building slightly deeper each snowfall….”

“Now, felt Arturo, he was ready to try some winter….”

“Look at this! I thought the camera hadn’t gotten anything in that shadow, but look!”

“Did he, his soul, come to take back to its source the countless moments when he breathed and tasted evenings like this? Like when he met Rosetta?“

“Backpack securely on, Arturo left his cottage and began his trek to town. Church bells rang the hopes of services with candles and open doors. Dusk was a breath away as the evening began to cool. Sea breezes flirted with the day’s last heat….”

“Rosetta watched him work, viewing tiny images on his laptop screen appear and disappear as she read across the room. Then smiled silently….”

“I like the filters that create an impressionist image best,” he told Rosetta at supper one night. “They make the soft pictures softer, give me ideas….”

“Filters, Arturo quickly found, simulated a wide range of effects he was familiar with in the art world….”

“There would be no snow here of course, on his stretch of Mediterranean walk this evening, but wind was wind, and he would be ready.“

“For practical reasons, he will take his shower there, at the grand hotel where his art already waits.“

“The Vermont air, Arturo found, differed in many ways from the generally humid warmness he had lived in Southeast Texas.“

“Arturo felt himself slipping from the artist of the night, to an artist of every night….”

“Arturo began glancing through the folders of photos saved in his computer.“

“Shaved but not yet bathed, Arturo quietly crossed to the furthest room in his and Rosetta’s charming shotgun of a house, their bedroom.”

“Rosetta understood. She could feel the creative tension stirring….”

“‘So what are you going to do with all these beautiful images?’ She asked.”