jml297

‘I don’t like it.’

Mavis, standing beside her sister Alma, wanted to smile, but kept her expression neutral. ‘What is it that you don’t like?’

Alma wriggled with irritation. ’The whole thing. I mean, who is it meant to be? Who looks like that, with a mouth all pinched and such a nasty look behind thick glasses? I thought these were meant to be paintings of local identities, but I can’t think of anyone who looks like that.’

‘Can’t you? Isn’t there something just a little familiar about the way she’s standing, looking like an argument waiting to happen?’

At this, Alma laughed, a short burst of air punctuating the space between them. ‘That much is true, Mavis. But like I said, I can’t think of anyone who looks as cranky as that. It’d be half-helpful if the people’s names were listed, but instead there’s just a single word used to describe them.’

Mavis shrugged. ‘I think that makes it more interesting, working out who you think it is. It’s a way of showing how people might be seen by others.’

Alma huffed. ‘What a load of nonsense. As if anyone can be described by a word.’ She peered closely at the title card, her heavy glasses slipping down her nose. ‘Did you read that, Mavis? Did you?’

Mavis nodded but chose to say nothing.

‘I mean “Terse”. What sort of word is that? Who could be described that way? I can’t think of anyone around here who could be called that.’ She wheeled about on her heels and stopped at the next painting, giving it a thorough once over with her gimlet gaze. ‘Now this is more like it. That’s the old mayor and describing him as “Garrulous” captures the essence of the man. And see the way he’s been painted holding court at the bar of the Duck On Inn? Oh, I like this one, Mavis. Let’s see who else we can spot.’

They continued to make their way around the dozen paintings which formed an exhibition by a local artist. It had been commissioned to capture some personalities of the town, and there had been quite the chatter at various cafés and in the supermarket aisles with much speculation regarding who the portraits represented.

They were approaching the exit when Alma laid a hand on Mavis’s arm. ‘I need one more look at that strange one. You know, “Terse”.’

Mavis followed her sister back to the painting, thinking that surely Alma would be able to see what was so obvious.

Alma gazed at the portrait, leaning in close. At last, she turned to Mavis with a smile. ‘I still have no idea who this is, but I think I’d like to meet her.’

This piece was written to a prompt on the Writer’s Digest website. Strange Art: write a story where something seems a little off in an art gallery.

Photo: three owls