I’m almost nauseous worrying about it, and frustrated that I can’t get into Krell’s studio until tomorrow night. When I show up for Krell’s class on Wednesday morning I’m convinced he’s found a smear or a splotch that Adam and I didn’t.
But Krell’s his usual provocative self as the crit session for Bernadette’s thorn painting begins.
She’s a lot further along, and now what emerges from the canvas is a man in an overcoat and bowler hat. The only actual paint on the canvas besides the white background is a bright green apple in the middle of the man’s face.
Kevin’s sitting next to me and I tap his shoe with my foot. He turns, and I whisper, “Is it just me or did she appropriate René Magritte?”
He squelches a smile, letting me know that what Bernadette’s done is obvious to anyone who’s taken a semester of art history. She’s used one of the most famous images of Surrealist art to make her painting seem deeper than it is.
Bernadette faces the class, one hand on her hip like a Valkyrie daring us to cross her. She sweeps her hair over her shoulder and says, “We always want to see what is hidden by what we see…but humans hide their secrets too well.” Then she makes air quotes so we know she’s quoting Magritte.
The class launches into a discussion of how Bernadette’s use of thorns defines the man in her painting, but also keeps the viewer at a distance, protecting his secrets. The discussion turns into a debate about what we know or will never know about a painting or a person.
As a strategic move, Bernadette’s painting is effing brilliant.
It’s everything CALINVA’s faculty goes nuts over: an unexpected medium that expresses a philosophical inquiry.
Now it’s even more clear that not only does Seen/Not Seen have to be perfect and arresting, but my artist statement has to be compelling if I want to compete with what Bernadette has created.
I glance at Bryian, and for the first time in weeks, he’s not smiling or nodding proudly as his girlfriend talks about her work. His eyes are tense, and I’d bet money I don’t have that Bernadette didn’t share with him what she was going to say. Hmm, Bryian’s scared, too.
After the crit ends, Kevin leans over. “You seem worried.”
“How am I supposed to compete with that? The faculty’s going to fight over who gets to be her adviser.”
I half expect Kev to tell me I’m wrong, but he nods and says, “You’re probably right. Bernadette’s going to get a lot of attention.”
“So what do I do?”
“Just keep going, I guess.”
I stand and haul my messenger bag onto my chair so I can pack my stuff. “I wish I could just focus on my art. I hate worrying about who’s the best, who’ll get their pick of advisers, who’ll get a dealer—”
Kevin signals me with his eyes to stop talking, and I hear, “Ms. Reyes?”
I go rigid, knowing Krell’s right behind me. I turn and say, “Yes?”
“If you’re free, I’d like to see you in my office.” Krell’s expression isn’t angry, but it is serious.
Oh God, Krell knows.
The walk to Krell’s studio is agony. As soon as we start down the hall, his dealer calls, hot to nail down the final details for shipping the Duncan painting to Miami on Monday. Krell’s cool, and if he’s found anything wrong with his masterwork, he isn’t giving it away to his dealer. Not that I would if I were him.
When we enter his studio, my eyes flit to his painting, but it faces away from me so I can’t see what he’s discovered. Krell sits down at his big worktable, snaps his fingers to get my attention, and points at the stool across from him.
Sweat trickles down my sides, and I don’t want to look at him while he’s on the phone, so I train my gaze on a white coffee cup near my hands. DEFACE CONVENTION, it dares in bright red letters.
I’d like to take off my jacket, but if I move, he might look my way, and I struggle to keep my face neutral. My thoughts are lightning strikes: Krell found some damage, security caught Adam and me on tape, I’m going to be expelled.
Krell sets his phone down on the table and switches it off.
Oh God, this is it.
His fingers drum the paint-specked tabletop. “You’re probably wondering why I asked you here.”
I can barely hear over the wind in my ears. My mouth is cotton dry, and my tongue sticks to my teeth. “Yes.”
“Your scholarship is at risk,” he says. “Did the financial aid office explain that the Zoich is performance based?”
I nod yes. “Ms. Gonzales went over that with me.”
“Then you know it’s critical you turn in outstanding work. That’s why I want to check in with you about your work in progress. I’d hate to see you lose the Zoich.”
For the first time since I walked in here, I look right at him. “What did you say?”
His mouth twists in annoyance. “I said, I’d hate to see you lose your scholarship. I’ve championed you from the beginning.”
That can’t be true. Adam told me you wanted Bryian to get it.
“Your instructors agree that your technical and observational skills surpass those of your classmates. Your potential is undeniable, but other students are ahead of you creatively.”
“Bryian and Bernadette,” I say with a sigh.
He nods. “You saw how compelling her piece is.”
“Yes.”
“And I assume you’ve noticed that Bryian has spent this semester experimenting and challenging himself with different approaches to express his ideas.”
I have to admit that even though Bryian’s copied other artists, he’s never repeated himself all semester. His work is getting looser and more daring. I couldn’t identify who he’d impersonated this week, but now I wonder if his latest and best work was actually all him.
“Yeah, I can see that.”
Krell leans in, and I know he’s about to deliver the deathblow, so I’m not ready for the gentle, not entirely condescending way he says, “The portrait you’re working on now could turn this situation around. Have you revisited your painting since we last met?”
My voice sounds like it’s coming from far away. “Yes. I took your advice and—” I pull out my phone. “Do you want to see where I’m going with it?”
Krell motions for me to pass him the phone, and for the next twenty minutes we talk through what I’m trying to do with the two panels. He comments on how he feels my use of contrasting styles, colors, and brushwork can succeed in forcing the viewer to question their assumptions about Julie.
“But consider how you can take the idea even further by exploring dimensionality. Currently, the two panels are the same size, so the viewer may interpret that as the images carrying equal weight or validity.”
“Oh, that’s not what I’m trying to say. But making one smaller, wouldn’t that be too obvious?”
“Mmm. Agreed. The solution should be unexpected.”
I’ve never played with dimension beyond size or shape, but the layering Krell does with the Strata or going 3-D like Bernadette did with those thorns are other ways of approaching it.
We’re almost done talking when Krell challenges me not to use black paint on the second panel.