SWNOVELS Chapter 28
CHAPTER TWENTY EIGHT- THE MOST IMPRESSIVE TABLEAU
The next morning when Jasmine arrived at the classroom, Diego was already there, slumped despondently at one of the easels. His usually vibrant outfit seemed dull and wrinkled, matching his subdued demeanor. As Jasmine set down her tote, he glanced up with puffy eyes.
“I must…apologize for my behavior yesterday,” he mumbled, lacking his typical dramatic flair. “My passion overcame my better senses, as it so often does.”
Jasmine regarded him steadily, giving a small nod of acceptance. “Thank you for saying that, Diego. I appreciate your willingness to own up to things getting out of hand.”
Letting out a heavy sigh, Diego dragged a hand down his cragged face wearily. “Your teaching methods and perspective…they resonate with the students in a way my own bombastic approach does not, it pains me to admit.”
His shoulders slumped further as he eyed the bare canvas before him despondently. “Perhaps I have been too consumed with chasing some misguided notion of artistic transcendence, blind to the simple joys of unfettered creative expression itself.”
Jasmine felt a pang of sympathy for the deflated man. For all his grating antics, it was clear Diego’s theatrical persona stemmed from a place of deep insecurity about his talents and impact as an artist. She moved to stand beside him, resting one hand lightly on his stooped shoulder.
“You may go about it in…grandiose ways, but I don’t doubt your passion for art is sincere, Diego,” she said gently. “And there’s value in bold, evocative expression too when it comes from a genuine place, not just putting on airs.”
He peered up at her dubiousness writ across his craggy features. Jasmine gave an encouraging squeeze to his shoulder.
“In fact, I have an idea that may allow us to combine our respective strengths, if you’re willing…”
By the time the students began trickling in, Diego had regained a bit more of his naturally effervescent energy, butting heads with Jasmine enthusiastically over details of their proposed collaborative piece.
“No, no, we must embrace the vivid, clashing explosions of pigments!” he was insisting when Marcus sauntered in, brow furrowing at the scene.
“The color scheme needs to evoke the harmonious diversity of our community,” Jasmine countered patiently. “Subtlety and thoughtful intentionality, not just chaos for its own sake.”
Diego opened his mouth to argue further, but she headed him off with a arched look. “And before you start extolling the virtues of unfettered brushstrokes again, we’re going to be very purposeful in our imagery and respective contributions, understood?”
To her surprise, Diego’s lips twitched into a half–smile rather than another melodramatic protest. “I suppose I shall simply have to trust your deft guidance on this undertaking, ma chérie,”
Turning towards the other students, Jasmine gestured for them to gather around as she began outlining the concept for a large–scale community mural they would all collaborate on together over the next few days.
As she explained her vision for a vibrant depiction of their center’s spirit and the unique array of individuals it brought together, she could see their initial skepticism gradually giving way to intrigued enthusiasm.
By the time she and Diego had distributed the assigned sketches, paint buckets, and brushes, the entire
group had been reinvigorated with fresh creative energy and purpose, diving into the massive project with
verve.
Marcus’s harsh lines and edgy shapes blended surprisingly well with Penelope’s minimalist geometry. Jacob’s frenetic splatters of kinetic color accentuated Agnes’s flowing botanical scenes stunningly.
And presiding over it all like a rejuvenated maestro, Diego diligently followed Jasmine’s lead – reigning in his usual grandiose flourishes for the sake of the cohesive overall composition, while still infusing spontaneous touches of his unique panache here and there when appropriate.
Over the next two days, the cavernous studio was a hive of feverish yet harmonious activity as the mural took glorious shape beneath their brushes.
Even when disagreements or indecision arose over certain details, Jasmine and Diego demonstrated an Intuitive new synchronicity in gently mediating and finding compromises that elevated everyone’s
contributions.
It was truly a collaborative masterpiece in the making, embodying the very spirit of diversity through creative expression that they hoped to celebrate.
So it was with immense pride – yet also more than a tinge of saddened reluctance that Jasmine stood back to observe the final embellishments being painstakingly perfected on the third morning.
Never could she have anticipated bonding with her students, and even Diego himself, in such a profound and uplifting way over this shared endeavor.
The gentle nudge of an elbow in her side pulled her from her reverie.
Turning, she found Diego regarding her with an uncharacteristically softened expression, all traces of his typical feigned anguish or theatrics banished.
“A most impressive tableau, is it not?” he murmured in a hushed tone, eyes shining with what looked suspiciously like unshed moisture. “You have truly helped unlock new perspectives for this old firebrand.
Jasmine felt her own throat tighten with a surge of warm emotion as she returned his gaze steadily.
“The journey was just as rewarding for me, Diego. Getting to know everyone’s talents and creative sparks in such an organic way…it’s a reminder of why I love teaching deep down.”
The tender moment was abruptly shattered by a harsh masculine bark of laughter slicing through the studio like a lightning bolt.
“Well, if it isn’t the old blowhard himself, still desperately trying to grasp at relevance!”
Jasmine whirled around alongside Diego to find a tall, impeccably–groomed man sweeping through the
entrance.
His chiseled features were twisted into a disdainful sneer as he raked his eyes over the mural dismissively before zeroing in on a tense Diego.
“Marco,” the artist fairly spat the name through gritted teeth, looking as though he’d just tasted something unpleasantly bitter. “To what do I owe the dubious pleasure of your sneering presence?”
The stranger – Marco, apparently openly smirked at Diego’s thinly–veiled hostility. Trailing one hand along. the drying brushstrokes with an exaggerated air of unimpressed critique.
“This rickety community hovel, playing a make–believe art instructor?”
His dark eyes glittered with poorly concealed malice as they flicked back towards Diego. “I knew you must have sunk painfully low these days, but… woof. This is even sadder than I expected.”
Diego seemed to swell with affronted indignation, colors rising high on his craggy cheeks. Before he
could attempt a blistering retort, however, Jasmine quickly stepped forward – keeping her tone measured yet firm.
“I’m not sure who you are, exactly, but you’re being incredibly rude disrupting our class and insulting the
hard work of myself and my students like this.”
Marco’s gaze travelled over her dismissively before returning to Diego with a sardonic chuckle. “So this is the sorry specimen you’ve been reduced to playing mentor for in your twilight years? Tell me, does she have even the faintest inkling of what an embarrassing fraud you truly are?”
Anger and confusion were palpable in the thickening silence, but the vile stranger merely drank in the rising tensions with undisguised relish
Folding his arms across his immaculately tailored shirt, Marco’s lips split into a serpent’s smile.
“In fact, why don’t we simply put the fraudulent master’s inflated claims to an honest test right now? Any of you desirous dunces wish to experience legitimate professional art instruction for once? Follow me, and I’ll show you what a real creative education entails- none of this desperate community theater farce.”
An uneasy hush fell over the other students as they all traded uncertain looks all except Marcus, who instantly broke the tense quiet with a barking scoff of derision.
–
“Pass. I’d rather staple my sack to a tree trunk than take pointers from a pompous blowhole like you, bro.”
Marco rounded on the lanky teen with look of naked revulsion. “The aspiring anarchist has a death wish, I see. Very well, if having your feeble talents forcibly elevated is too terrifying a prospect.”
Marco sneered at Marcus’s defiance. “Enjoy wallowing in mediocrity with these amateurs then, you insolent brat.”