SWNOVELS Chapter 22
CHAPTER TWENTY TWO–ART CLASSES
Diego let out an aggrieved sigh, flinging his hands up despairingly. “So you see the great challenges before us, ma chère Jasmine? To breathe the divine spark of creative passion into these unyielding coals?
While his flamboyant delivery was admittedly over–the–top, Jasmine had to admit she was intrigued by the very different personalities and backgrounds comprising their small ensemble. She cleared her throat, stepping forward to address the group herself.
“Well, I may be new to teaching, but I’m truly excited to be here and get to know each of you,” she began, automatically slipping into the persuasive tone she’d perfected at her gallery openings.
“I hope we can embark on this creative journey together and perhaps discover some new perspectives along the way.”
She allowed a warm smile to cross her lips as she surveyed the motley crew. “Now, who’s ready to get
started?”
To her relief, her words seemed to be met with a murmur of assent, even from the more reticent members like Penelope and Marcus.
Agnes beamed openly while Jacob lifted his gaze from his phone, eyebrows raised slightly.
Bolstered, Jasmine moved to the supply tables and began passing out canvases, brushes, and palettes of vibrant acrylic colors. “Why don’t we start with some free–form expression? Just put brush to canvas and see what unfolds organically.”
With varying levels of enthusiasm, her students began tentatively daubing colors onto the blank surfaces before them.
Jasmine circulated the room, offering warm encouragement and suggestions tailored to each person’s style and subject matter.
As she leaned over Marcus’s abstract swirl of black and crimson strokes, she said, “Nice bold lines. Those jagged edges are really impactful.”
Marcus grunted noncommittally, swiping a streak of cobalt blue through the middle.
“You’ve got a great eye for contrast and movement,” Jasmine went on. “I can definitely see tattoo design potential there.”
This earned a shallow nod, but she caught a glimpse of a small smile tugging at the corner of the teen’s lips.
Next, she turned her attention to Agnes, whose canvas already depicted a lush garden scene taking shape in gentle brushstrokes of green and lavender.
“Agnes, this is just lovely so far,” Jasmine said appreciatively. “You have such a delicate, almost wistful style.”
The older woman’s rosy cheeks dimpled with delight. Why, thank you dear! Flowers have always held such romantic meaning for me. Perhaps a lingering effect of so many courtroom bouquets in my opera diva days.”
She let out a melodious peal of laughter, continuing to dab away contentedly.
Unfortunately, her attempts at connecting with Penelope didn’t go quite as smoothly.
“I see you’ve chosen a rather….monochromatic approach so far,” Jasmine remarked diplomatically, taking
In the severe geometric shapes forming on the crisp white canvas, all rendered in harsh streaks of black paint.
Penelope’s hazel eyes flicked up briefly from her work, hot bothering to mask her disdain. “Yes, well, unlike some the more fanciful daydreams being indulged here, I actually grasp the nuances of form and negative space.”
“Of course,” Jasmine replied evenly, refusing to take the bait. “Minimalism can convey just as powerful an impact when executed properly. I think-”
“Ah, but while the execution may be technically proficient,” a familiar nasal voice cut in loudly, “one must ponder whether such a piece truly embodies the vital essence of the artistic spirit!”
Diego had materialized at Jasmine’s elbow, eyeing Penelope’s stark creation with an exaggerated look of distaste. The lawyer’s eyebrows rose coolly, seemingly unfazed by his blustery pronouncement.
Shooting Jasmine an inscrutable look, Diego continued to hold court. “You see, mes petits, the true beauty of art lies not merely in replication, but in the vulnerability of the artist’s soul breathed into each sublime stroke!”
He abruptly snatched up a brush and strode over to a blank canvas, vigorously swirling thick globs of scarlet and indigo into furious, violent slashes. “Like this! Can you not feel the tormented d anguish? The seething inner turmoil bubbling unto the surface?”
Everyone watched in bewildered silence as Diego continued to attack the canvas with wild abandon. Finally, with a last defiant flourish, he hurled the brush down and whirled to face them once more, chest heaving.
“That is true art,” he proclaimed, amber eyes smoldering with intensity. “Not just shapes on a surface, but an unfurling of truth and raw human emotion, child!”
Jacob’s brow furrowed skeptically as he eyed the frenzied streaks. “Uh…okay, dude. Whatever you say.
Penelope, for her part, seemed utterly unruffled, regarding Diego with her usual aura of polite disinterest. While your…passion is admirable, I’m simply here to explore techniques, not bare my soul.”
“Technique?” Diego practically spat the word, whisking around to face Jasmine with an accusatory look. Is that what you are teaching these ripe blossoms? Hollow technical skills like a tradesman, instead of cultivating their expressive artistic spirits?
Jasmine lifted her chin, refusing to be cowed. “I’m teaching them to find their own unique artistic voices and styles, actually,” she replied coolly. “Which you’d realize if you’d been listening instead of just pontificating.”
An uncomfortable silence fell over the room, and she pressed on in a softer tone, offering the students an encouraging smile.
“The most important thing is using art not just as a skill, but as a means of self–exploration and expression. Discovering what thoughts and emotions motivate you, then allowing that energy to pour out onto the canvas however it manifests naturally.”
Moving to stand beside Diego’s frenzied creation, she gestured towards it. “You can clearly see the raw passion driving this piece, even if the meaning isn’t spelled out.”
She shifted her gaze to include the rest of the class once more. “Everyone’s process and reasons for creating will be unique. My role is simply to help guide you in refining your individual styles and tapping into that inner inspiration, whatever form it takes.”
Her words seemed to have a calming effect. Marcus gave a subtle nod of understanding, while Agnes patted her arm fondly. Even Penelope seemed to relax slightly, carefully readjusting her grip on her brush.
The next day, the classroom atmosphere was considerably more tense. The moment Jasmine entered, it was clear Diego had been indulging in another of his theatrical preambles, from the way he dramatically trailed off, throwing one arm up in an aborted gesture.
She suppressed an inward sigh, recognizing the glint of eager provocation in his amber eyes.
“Ah, at last!” he exclaimed upon catching sight of her “The esteemed guest artist has arrived to bestow more of her pedestrian insights upon us!”
Jasmine opted to take the high road, offering him a neutral smile in response. “Good morning, Diego hope everyone had a productive evening continuing their expressive pieces.”
*Productive, she says.” Diego scoffed, slicing a contemptuous look in her direction as the students. watched in bemused silence. “When all you advocate is mindless technique over true creative spirit!
He stalked over to Agnes’s half–finished garden scene, tutting disdainfully. This, for instance. While th execution shows considerable technical proficiency for one’s age, where is the deeper emotional resonance? The bold stylistic choices daring the viewer to feel something raw and transcendent?”
Poor Agnes blinked owlishly behind her bifocals, seeming taken aback by the harsh critique, Jasmine quickly interjected, keeping her tone diplomatic.
“I think Agnes has imbued this piece with a wonderful sense of serenity and elegant beauty, actually. The ethereal brushwork conveys a very dreamlike, romantic quality.”
“Serenity?” Diego let out a derisive bark of laughter. “How boringly safe and conventional!”