Nyra awoke to the bright rays of the morning sun flooding her studio. She snuggled beneith the old patchwork quilt for a few minutes longer remembering the previous day. After a short uneventful drive home, she had received the delivery and set up of her new futon as well as her two beanbag chairs. Those two made her smile every time she looked at them, set together in the corner by the windows.
Smiling she bounced out of bed and wandered nude to the kitchen. One strawberry banana tofu smoothie later made her appreciate the handheld blender she had brought with her but miss her mother's morning juices.
"Just a month Nyra, dont be a ninny. You've lived away from home before!" she said to herself knowing that it was more than small appliances she was missing but the companionship and understanding from a fellow artist. That more than anything was probably why she had never moved away from home. Very few people understood the absolute need to put her vision onto canvas or work it into clay or bronze. Her mother was quite lucky to have found an absentminded inventor who spent just as much time closeted away puting pen to paper for his vision.
Because of her parents artistic drives Nyra had learned from an early age to be self sufficient and even the caregiver when her mother was unavailable. She remembered the time when she was 9 how her mother had gotten ill. Nyra spent three hours in the kitchen on an old stool making vegetable soup. She was so careful with ever cut of the knife to make sure each piece was the same size as the other, as well as to not cut herself. The old recipe card made by her grandmother was blurred and stained but the end result was so amazing her mother, despite feeling horrible, had two bowls full. She had to interupt her father three times, telling him to eat his soup as he had not left his drawing board to eat.
Since that success Nyra had poured over cookbooks and spent as much time in the kitchen in the evenings as she did playing. Her mothers rule was Art in the day, play in the night. This rule was mainly for her dad's absentmindedness but helped teach her the value of setting limits on your artistic time. Without those limits it was easy to get so caught up that you let the rest of the world go, not eating, not cleaning, not making the appointment to sell your last creation or missing the visit to the gallery on opening night.
Finally done with her smoothing and musings Nyra made her way to the box of acrylics and a blank canvas. Using practiced hands she swiftly had a palette of colors readied with her palette knife. Deftly applying the paint in sure strong strokes as vague shapes emerged. After several hours she put down the knife and began applying the paint with her fingertips. Smoothing and rubbing her hands into the wet paint. Once she brushed her hair behind her ear with an orange hand, leaving a smudge on her ear as well as a clump of now orange hair. Lunch was eaten sitting on the cloud and sun beanbag chair in front of the easel. An apple, soy cheese and crackers. The sun was begining to fade as Nyra put her trademark sun in the lower left corner.
Stepping back she admired the piece. It was a stylized view of the Vesper Gardens with the sun setting behind it as she had seen last night. This one had flown from her fingers to the canvas. Imprinting itself in color and shape. Smiling Nyra cleaned up her paints and palette then headed for the bath. Washing day long dried on paint was sometimes a trial, generally leaving her smelling more of terpentine than her homemade sandalwood soap. Catching a glimpse of herself in the mirror as she ran the water in the tub she groaned at realizing she spent the day naked and was covered in paint. She even had purple completely covering her left breast. Into the shower she went with the jug of paint thinner. Thankfully due to its large size Nyra was able to get all the paint off without too much contortionism.
An hour, and bath, later Nyra was dressing in her favorite broomstick skirt in purple and green swirls and a white embroidered tunic with only a bit of paint staining the cuffs. She found her shoes by the door and went down to her car. Tonight she would eat out as a treat not only for completing the painting in one day but to celebrate her first successful day in Nachton.
Though the first thing she should do is get some sheets for her futon bed. Humming Puff the Magic Dragon she drove off towards the mall.
An Artists Life (formerly Setting up a studio)
Nyra happily climbed the steps up to her loft studio. One month on her own with lots of time to create new work. What a grand adventure this will be to tell her mother about.
The sturdy stairs had a huge skylight illuminating her way up to the door marked 29b. She had to put her groceries on the floor to dig through her backpack for the keys she had recieved last week. Thankfully the long braided hemp cord she had beaded and attached to the ring made them easy to spot.
Once unlocked the oversize door, rolled easily aside and she entered her temporary home. The loft's completely open space and huge windows aforded Nyra a great view of the bay. She boggled at the low price she had paid for the studio for a month but counted it as her good fortune.
Apparently this warhouse lived on the corner of the Upper Middle Income area. Nyra always found it amusing how things came and went out of fashion. A hundred years ago this would be an ideal spot for commerce due to the waterway, but once rails came though it surely fell into disfavor. Of course as time passes the beachfront becomes ideal and again in fashion. She giggled at the whims of fashion.
A gourmet kitchen took up one corner with an industrial fridge, six burner stove and island sink and bar area. She plunked down her bags and went off to explore the rest of the space. The oposite corner hidden behind glass blocks was a decadent bathroom that housed not only a jacuzzi tub but a large glass-blocked shower as well.
The rest of the space was open completely. Getting out her sketchbook Nyra began to plan how to set up her easels and tables to get the most daylight.
Slowly a design takes shape. "This is going to require a trip to the store or three. she sighed. "Perhaps there is a good thrift store or rental place here."
She pushed the sketch across the counter and began to unpack her staples. Several trips to the car later and the studio now contained three easels, over a dozen canvases, three boxes of supplies and an old hard sided olive green suitcase.
The sun was heading down to the horizon as she finished. Now all that was left was to find something to sleep on tonight and then she could rest.
Nyra grabbed her nicest backpack and dropped her hemp wallet into it along with her key, sketch, apple and a Nuts Over Chocolate Luna Bar. Back down at the car, her finger tracing over a royal purple swirl on the hood, she watched the street lights start to blink on. Hopefully someplace would be open still.
Nyra
18 years ago
Nyra
18 years ago
Nyra woke up slowly to a sun high in her windows. Groaning she pulled the quilt over her head and tried to go back to sleep. After her adventure and injury the other night she found herself restless. She had gotten home a bit after 10pm, never having gotten sheets for the futon. After a restless night she had awakened at dawn to an arm that ached from the stiches more than from the injury. She had hung her pendant in the window where it could splash color upon her floor. She had then spent the day loading up paintings and taking them to the gallery. Of course they could have sent someone over but she was restless. Even with all the hard work she still felt that nothing had been accomplished.
Today she vowed to get out and find inspiration for more paintings. Even if the gallery had said that the thirty she had already placed in their care was enough. She just needed to put more of this town down on canvas.
Stumbling from the bed she headed for the bathroom and dilligently taped a piece of plastic over her bandage. She stood in the shower, letting its pounding heat rouse her from her sleepiness. With a bowl of granola with strawberries and soy milk in her tummy, she was ready for the day. She packed up her sketch pad, pencils and art pad into her patchwork backpack. She pulled her wallet and keys from her tie died pack and dropped it into this one. Some fruit and a Luna bar also went into the pack of the day.
Grabbing her keys off a clay sculpture near the door she set off to find something inspiring today.
Today she vowed to get out and find inspiration for more paintings. Even if the gallery had said that the thirty she had already placed in their care was enough. She just needed to put more of this town down on canvas.
Stumbling from the bed she headed for the bathroom and dilligently taped a piece of plastic over her bandage. She stood in the shower, letting its pounding heat rouse her from her sleepiness. With a bowl of granola with strawberries and soy milk in her tummy, she was ready for the day. She packed up her sketch pad, pencils and art pad into her patchwork backpack. She pulled her wallet and keys from her tie died pack and dropped it into this one. Some fruit and a Luna bar also went into the pack of the day.
Grabbing her keys off a clay sculpture near the door she set off to find something inspiring today.
Nyra
18 years ago
Nyra painted for days. The kind of days that start at dawn and only when you see the next dawn you realize the passage of time. She foraged for food in her meager cupboards and ordered take out every evening. She showered when she had to change the paint color on herself so as not to taint the ones she needed.
She battled with the canvases on her easels. Forcing them to do her bidding. With a pallet knife between her teeth she attacked the canvas over and over with a brush and paint. These were the first that she had to wage war to put onto canvas. Painting usually spewed from her brush faster than she could dab paint onto it.
This was war. She was an amazon of the acrylics. She used all her skill and knowledge of colors, brushes and knives to sway the paint into doing her bidding. She caught brief naps when all six canvases were too wet to continue. Finally though they were done and drying nicely.
She studied the finished work with a critical eye. She fell asleep on a beanbag in the sun for over 20 hours. When she awoke she called her parents to visit. Her father had printed and shipped the three portraits she had painted for her new friends. Hopefully they would be received soon.
The paintings were dry enough to ship. Three were going to the gallery for the showing. One was going to go to Ms. Masters for her insightful assistance. The other two would have to sit for a while. They were neither sunsets or sunrises, thus the show would not include them. Though she had hopes. They were dark and unlike all her work to date.
For the show she had a series that started with a sunrise over an empty grave, then the bright midday sun streaming down upon a ceremony with people in black and bloodred roses, the final was a sunset over the full grave. Each was moving in a morbid way but together they were indescribable.
The one for Meegan was mostly a portrait, of what Nyra could remember she looked like, striding through a firey haze up a set of black marble steps looking determined and confident. Hopefully she liked it.
The final two were vastly different from eachother. One was celestial, showing the earth, moon, sun and variety of stars. The sun was darkened, dead while the moon lay shattered across the sky. The earth rather than blue and white was a sickly yellow and green. There was no hope here, only dire warnings. The final was an injured panther snarling at a hunter who you could tell had just shot at the magnificent beast. The background showed a jungle that was lush with life and another panther leaping onto the hunter.
She doubted either would sell but felt they were beautiful in their warnings.
She called the gallery to come over with crates to ship the barely dry art and to ready one for shipping. Hopefully she could get Ms. Master's number from Rachyl.
Tired emotionally from these paintings, she nibbled chinese take out of veggie fried rice and House Bean Curd, she watched the sun set on the bay.
She battled with the canvases on her easels. Forcing them to do her bidding. With a pallet knife between her teeth she attacked the canvas over and over with a brush and paint. These were the first that she had to wage war to put onto canvas. Painting usually spewed from her brush faster than she could dab paint onto it.
This was war. She was an amazon of the acrylics. She used all her skill and knowledge of colors, brushes and knives to sway the paint into doing her bidding. She caught brief naps when all six canvases were too wet to continue. Finally though they were done and drying nicely.
She studied the finished work with a critical eye. She fell asleep on a beanbag in the sun for over 20 hours. When she awoke she called her parents to visit. Her father had printed and shipped the three portraits she had painted for her new friends. Hopefully they would be received soon.
The paintings were dry enough to ship. Three were going to the gallery for the showing. One was going to go to Ms. Masters for her insightful assistance. The other two would have to sit for a while. They were neither sunsets or sunrises, thus the show would not include them. Though she had hopes. They were dark and unlike all her work to date.
For the show she had a series that started with a sunrise over an empty grave, then the bright midday sun streaming down upon a ceremony with people in black and bloodred roses, the final was a sunset over the full grave. Each was moving in a morbid way but together they were indescribable.
The one for Meegan was mostly a portrait, of what Nyra could remember she looked like, striding through a firey haze up a set of black marble steps looking determined and confident. Hopefully she liked it.
The final two were vastly different from eachother. One was celestial, showing the earth, moon, sun and variety of stars. The sun was darkened, dead while the moon lay shattered across the sky. The earth rather than blue and white was a sickly yellow and green. There was no hope here, only dire warnings. The final was an injured panther snarling at a hunter who you could tell had just shot at the magnificent beast. The background showed a jungle that was lush with life and another panther leaping onto the hunter.
She doubted either would sell but felt they were beautiful in their warnings.
She called the gallery to come over with crates to ship the barely dry art and to ready one for shipping. Hopefully she could get Ms. Master's number from Rachyl.
Tired emotionally from these paintings, she nibbled chinese take out of veggie fried rice and House Bean Curd, she watched the sun set on the bay.
Nyra
18 years ago
Nyra had spent a goodly portion of the day shopping for food and supplies. She had even found a supply wearhouse and metalworking shop that would bronze her creations if she brought the wax sculptures to them.
She brought home ten pounds of wax to work with. Hopefully she could give them several items to make the run worthwhile and less expensive. She put her clay and food in the fridge then prep'd the main area she wished to work with a dropcloth and utensils. She set out three of the 1lb blocks in the sun and changed into shorts and a tank top.
She sat on the floor with an empty box serving as a table to hold her work as needed. She shaped the blackish brown wax with fingers, shapers and scrapers. Her first piece was a female form, twilling around with a streamer floating around her shape. The second was the same female form with arms thrown overhead, again the streamer was swirlling around the piece. The final third piece was a couple embracing, arms and legs around eachother. She never sculpted clothes on her pieces choosing instead to make them stylized rather than very realistic. The first two were normal but the third was more realistic, acentuating the passionate embrace.
The sun had set and she had wax under her nails when she finally was finished. She carefully placed these in her fridge alongside the clay block. She washed her hands, scrubbing her fingernails then cleaned up her dropcloth and tools.
After a shower and a bit to eat, she left the studio with no real goal in mind. Perhaps viewing the Vesper Gardens would give her some more inspiration as well as relaxation.
She brought home ten pounds of wax to work with. Hopefully she could give them several items to make the run worthwhile and less expensive. She put her clay and food in the fridge then prep'd the main area she wished to work with a dropcloth and utensils. She set out three of the 1lb blocks in the sun and changed into shorts and a tank top.
She sat on the floor with an empty box serving as a table to hold her work as needed. She shaped the blackish brown wax with fingers, shapers and scrapers. Her first piece was a female form, twilling around with a streamer floating around her shape. The second was the same female form with arms thrown overhead, again the streamer was swirlling around the piece. The final third piece was a couple embracing, arms and legs around eachother. She never sculpted clothes on her pieces choosing instead to make them stylized rather than very realistic. The first two were normal but the third was more realistic, acentuating the passionate embrace.
The sun had set and she had wax under her nails when she finally was finished. She carefully placed these in her fridge alongside the clay block. She washed her hands, scrubbing her fingernails then cleaned up her dropcloth and tools.
After a shower and a bit to eat, she left the studio with no real goal in mind. Perhaps viewing the Vesper Gardens would give her some more inspiration as well as relaxation.