Still Life

Mikas is a bit frustrated with his art professor.  This scene appears in my NaNo and was inspired by a picture prompt from the WriYe DreamWidth.


b1dab9d59c0b1a900542e682476e0522Mikas couldn’t help but grumble softly to himself as he piled the books and then set out the bottles near the window.  It was maddening to him that the professor insisted that he learn the basics when he already knew how to do so much more.  It would have been one thing if he’d been utterly self-taught and was making mistakes as a result.  Then, he would understand the need to draw objects and focus on shapes and shading and highlights and all the other innate lessons that he was being forced to go through.

However, Mikas knew how to draw, at least on some level.  His alter, Lukas, had taken art classes.  The memories were there and the knowledge was there.  Once he relaxed, the skill was even there.  The only reason that he was taking the classes at all was to bring the knowledge to the front of his mind, so that it wasn’t buried somewhere in his subconscious.  There was also the fact that he couldn’t take more advanced classes until he pushed through these basic ones.  They wouldn’t believe him when he said that, in a way, he was Lukas Grigoravicius.

So, here he was, being forced to gather whatever objects he could to form a scene to draw.  He already knew what would happen.  He would bring the completed piece back to his professor who would say the same thing he had about everything else Mikas had drawn for class.  He had the mechanics – the techniques – now, but there was no feeling – no excitement – in the piece.

“How does he expect me to get excited about drawing bowls of fruit or bottles and books?” he grumbled.  That argument had fallen on deaf ears from the beginning.  He gave up.  If the man wanted feeling and excitement, Mikas would give him what he wanted.  He put every ounce of anger and frustration he felt into drawing the little scene that he’d created.

When he finished, he stepped back to frown at the drawing.  He sighed when Vin stepped up beside him and drew him into an embrace.  “What do you think?” he murmured.  “Will it be ‘dynamic’ enough for the ever-so-perfect art professor?”

“Can’t speak for him,” Vin murmured.  Then, he shook as a silent chuckle swept through him.  “I will say, this, though: this drawing says one thing to me.”

“What’s that?” Mikas asked, glancing over his shoulder.

Vin smiled.  “You’d cheerfully bash him over the head with one of them bottles,” he said, nodding towards the scene.

“Then, you’re feeling the anger,” Mikas said, smirking.  “Good.”  Hopefully, his professor would feel it too.  “I can’t wait until we move on to some real artwork.  I hate drawing these… still lifes.  I’m just glad we’ve graduated beyond, ‘Draw your hand’ or ‘Draw that chair’.”

“Some people draw still lifes their whole career, you know?” Vin said, nodding.

Mikas shrugged.  “Some people paint landscapes for their whole careers too,” he added.  “Others focus on portraits.  That’s fine – because that’s their choice.  That’s not some professor telling them that they have ‘walk before they run.’”  He shook his head.  “I’ve been running for far too long to go back to walking and be content at that pace.”

“Sometimes,” Vin said, “it’s nice to slow down a bit and enjoy a leisurely walk.”  Then, Vin kissed him on the brow and headed into the other room, mumbling something about coffee.

Mikas sighed when he couldn’t find an argument against Vin’s statement.  Perhaps he had been running for too long.  Wasn’t that why he’d begun taking art classes in the first place?  After a moment, he said, “But I don’t want to walk!”  He rolled his eyes when laughter echoed from the next room.


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