Happy Thanksgiving. I'm most thankful to my mom, whom I've dedicated my book to. She is the reason I'm a painter and of creative mind.
This is one of her early pieces and I am proud to have it in my home...
She isn't as thrilled.
I took that inspiration and added it to my book.
“About time. I’ve been dying to ask you why you have that thing hung,” Alden sneered with little effort to hide his displeasure as he pointed at the chimney stock.
The attic had no firebox, but still, Briar wanted to dress the chimney to appear as such, adding any sort of homey touches to his dull room. He had built a stone hearth and decorated it with an array of wide candles to set the illusion. He even installed a wooden mantel where his father’s sword, Galivant, rested proudly on a decorative gold stand. Above that was a simple still-life painting.
Briar stepped around to view it. The subject was a bowl of fruit with a few jugs and plates whose ellipses were uneven. The horizon line was skewed as if the items were set on a broken table. Colors were muddied and haphazardly thrown down with aggressive brushstrokes as if applied in a rage. As sloppy as the piece was, Briar loved it and framed it with as much respect as if the piece was done by the great artist Bavasi.
He crossed his arms and smiled in appreciation then lifted one hand to it. “What? You did a good job.”
Alden groaned. “It’s awful…and embarrassing.”
“Wait, you painted that?” Mayli covered her mouth as she began to laugh. “And I’ve been sitting here insulting it this whole time…”
Alden continued his plea, “See? Take it down…”