Loading...
Loading...
The Struggle of an ArtistLoading...
Grayson G
No Hope
Cracking open yet another can of sardines for dinner, Sally somberly puts them in the microwave and starts in. The low buzzing fills the entirety of her two-room New York apartment, echoing against the shabby and stain-covered walls that still manage to cost her a fortune, despite their condition. The dinging of the microwave as it finished reheating the week-old sardines makes Sally jumps to her feet, awoken from her daydream.
Recently, an up-and-coming art gallery’s director emailed her to ask for a meeting, and she finally has some hope for a better future outside this horrid apartment complex. She has no clue what it could be about, but she always hopes for the best. Smiling, she takes the sardines out and quietly walks over to the one-person table she has been eating at for the past year and a half.
Recently, an up-and-coming art gallery’s director emailed her to ask for a meeting, and she finally has some hope for a better future outside this horrid apartment complex. She has no clue what it could be about, but she always hopes for the best. Smiling, she takes the sardines out and quietly walks over to the one-person table she has been eating at for the past year and a half.
Right as she digs in, a buzzing fills the room.
Jumping, she runs to the front door, dreaming about all the possibilities of what could be on the other side. Is it a long-lost half-brother who is going to invite her to his mansion on the other side of the world? Or maybe it’s the director of the Smithsonian, coming personally to ask me to attend his next gallery? She flings open the door, a smile creeping onto her face, a remnant of long-lost dreams. On the other side stands a man with hair that has at least a full bottle and a half of hair product in it and a sleazy enough smile to match.
Jumping, she runs to the front door, dreaming about all the possibilities of what could be on the other side. Is it a long-lost half-brother who is going to invite her to his mansion on the other side of the world? Or maybe it’s the director of the Smithsonian, coming personally to ask me to attend his next gallery? She flings open the door, a smile creeping onto her face, a remnant of long-lost dreams. On the other side stands a man with hair that has at least a full bottle and a half of hair product in it and a sleazy enough smile to match.
Audio recording
A Sleasy Savior
Inviting himself in, he introduces himself as Sir Richardson, an art collector who has recently heard of an up-and-coming artist living here. Wanting to jump for joy, Shelly introduces herself and guides him inside her apartment, where paintings and canvases cover every blank space on the wall. Leading him into her bedroom, which is currently functioning as her studio, she cannot contain her excitement anymore. Almost desperately showing every single one of the works that she has created over the past year, she will not let this opportunity pass and will finally be recognized for her work. She walks into the other room for a second to ensure that her sardines do not get too cold as sardines is all she has for the night. While she is putting them away, she hears a loud crash from the other room.
Walking in there, the room looks like a Jason Paulic painting. Paint covers the walls of her studio, with Sir Richardson, glasses askew, standing in the middle of it. A smug smile fades off his face as he turns around to see Shelly standing there, mouth open. Apologizing profusely, Sir Richardson steps into the other room claiming to have fallen on some paint cans. Of course, this was not an accident, but Shelly didn’t know that at the time and couldn’t afford to get mad at him in her scenario. The best opportunity that she has in this scenario lies with him, and she isn’t about to throw that away just because of some paint cans. She walks him back to his Rolls-Royce ghost, inviting him over to talk about her art once again. He steps into the vehicle, once again apologizing as he leaves.
Hoping that that wouldn’t be the last she would see of him, Shelly walks back into her paint-splattered apartment. After cleaning up the paint, she finally manages to lie down on her squeaky mattress.
Hoping that that wouldn’t be the last she would see of him, Shelly walks back into her paint-splattered apartment. After cleaning up the paint, she finally manages to lie down on her squeaky mattress.
Walking in there, the room looks like a Jason Paulic painting. Paint covers the walls of her studio, with Sir Richardson, glasses askew, standing in the middle of it. A smug smile fades off his face as he turns around to see Shelly standing there, mouth open. Apologizing profusely, Sir Richardson steps into the other room claiming to have fallen on some paint cans. Of course, this was not an accident, but Shelly didn’t know that at the time and couldn’t afford to get mad at him in her scenario. The best opportunity that she has in this scenario lies with him, and she isn’t about to throw that away just because of some paint cans. She walks him back to his Rolls-Royce ghost, inviting him over to talk about her art once again. He steps into the vehicle, once again apologizing as he leaves.
Hoping that that wouldn’t be the last she would see of him, Shelly walks back into her paint-splattered apartment. After cleaning up the paint, she finally manages to lie down on her squeaky mattress.
Hoping that that wouldn’t be the last she would see of him, Shelly walks back into her paint-splattered apartment. After cleaning up the paint, she finally manages to lie down on her squeaky mattress.
Closing her eyes after a long day, she finally manages to get some sleep, hopeful for the interview with the director tomorrow.
Driving to the interview in her old 1996 minivan, she wonders what it is about. She hopes that he wants to talk about her work, but the exhibit features so many prestigious artists that there wasn’t a chance in the world. Pulling up to the curb, she nervously steps out and starts walking toward the director's office. Just in case, she had memorized a map of this place, so she knows exactly where to go. After three knocks on the director's door and taking a seat on a leather chair, she got asked the question that changed her life,
“Would you be willing to let us present your work in our new gallery?”
Her mouth drops so far that her chin touches the cement below her. Baffled, she can't even find the words to accept this outstanding offer. After coming out of her daze, she immediately accepts the invitation.
Driving to the interview in her old 1996 minivan, she wonders what it is about. She hopes that he wants to talk about her work, but the exhibit features so many prestigious artists that there wasn’t a chance in the world. Pulling up to the curb, she nervously steps out and starts walking toward the director's office. Just in case, she had memorized a map of this place, so she knows exactly where to go. After three knocks on the director's door and taking a seat on a leather chair, she got asked the question that changed her life,
“Would you be willing to let us present your work in our new gallery?”
Her mouth drops so far that her chin touches the cement below her. Baffled, she can't even find the words to accept this outstanding offer. After coming out of her daze, she immediately accepts the invitation.