fandomtownies | The York Gallery; Wednesday [ 05/14 ] -- Exhibit Opening!

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The York Gallery; Wednesday [ 05/14 ] -- Exhibit Opening!

Charlotte always found a new exhibit opening to be exciting, and she was a little surprised that she actually wasn't feeling too nervous about this one, either! With the exception of a few of the artist's pastels and wall sculptures, the majority of the Bruce Naigles pieces were scattered aesthetically on the main gallery floor, and her personal favorite took the center position. The table of treats and hors devours was set out, as well as the amazing punch fountain, and everything was ready!

The York Gallery was open!

[[ ocd ~~on the way~~ is up!; be mindful that many of the links will take you to lots of artistic nudity; up early because I have a brief social life tonight, oooh ]]

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"Of course I did," she said, taking note of his blush and wondering what caused it. Surely not the art? "That is the power I was referrin' to, Cal. The lion, a magnificant beast, her King, has been tamed."

"Or at least broken his back," Cal pointed out; he'd intended it to be his usual dry wit, but it ended up coming out more nervous than anything else. He did, however, thankfully, stop himself from commenting on how that can't really be all that comfortable. The comparison to the Object grew; the Empress had probably taunted the beast, and then wrestled it into submission, and then...oblivion.

Tilting her head, she studied the position of the lion. It looked regal; it looked proud. "Perhaps he covets her," she remarked softly.

Cal wondered how he thought this was a good idea in the first place, again?

"Who wouldn't?" he offered back in response, just as quietly.

Turning from the sculpture completely, Amber faced him more directly, deciding that a different object of topic was in order. "How've you been adjustin' to Fandom, Cal? Any brain-breaky yet?"

Oh, she meant besides standing in an art gallery and discussing nude sculptures? Cal realized his blush probably wasn't going anywhere, and shrugged his shoulders, lifting his head, casting his eyes up at some nondistinct spot, and hoping to pass it off as too much time in the sun.

"I think I've been doing good. Got the gremlins warning yesterday, fought a mechanical marching Santa Claus band that blew up London today..."

Nudity in art, in any form, was worthy of discussion. Amber clearly thought so but changed the subject because yes, she decided he was uncomfortable because of the color on his face.

"Okay... that last one? Might actually scare me did I see it."

[I'm crashing, sp good? Night!]

"It was....insane," Cal said. "That's all I can think about it, and, I mean, hell, I rode my bike in front of a tank through a riot before. I kind of mostly just hid." He winced a little. "I guess I'm just more the hang out in an art gallery type of guy than...whatever type of guy would be able to deal with that better."

She shook her head. "And here I rode in a parade behind a swan float that blew up in front of me. Nothin' wrong with hidin' if you know you could possibly get hurt. To me that's just bein' smart. Can I ask what the riot was over?"

"Ah, this was, uh, back before Dad hit it big in the hot dog biz," Cal explained, rubbing his neck a little more, "so we were living in a poorer part of Detroit...Race riot. Black community moving into the area like a miasma, and not too happy about a lot of it..."

Amber raised her brows. "You were hold old at the time?"

Cal took a moment to remember. "Seven?"

That was terrible to be in a place like that at such a young age. Amber didn't say so but her eyes conveyed that if he were to look at her. She was a firm believer in good memories. It's why she didn't think very often about her dad leaving when she was just a little girl. Her ma was right and Amber was prejudice: 'Once a carnie, always a carnie'. She would believe it always.

"You know, I'm more of a hangin' out sort of girl too," she smiled a bit. "Not that I've been doin' much of it actually."

Cal wondered exactly what that was in Amber's expression; he wasn't sure if he recognized whatever it was and that made him a little uncomfortable. More so than already, in any case, but he just tried to stave it off.

"Yeah?" he asked conversationally. "Been keeping busy with other stuff?"

"Yah, you betcha. I'm starin' in a production of Shakespeares Titus Andronicus, and it's been takin' up a lot of my free time. Not so much the rehearsals, but in my spare time I have been goin' over the play, studyin'."

"I'm actually auditioning for that tomorrow, when I get out of work," Cal commented. Huh. Small world.

Amber looked surprised. "You are? That's great, Cal. And I'm glad for Mr. Tennant as he was seekin' to fill more spots. Did you meet him, then?"

"Kind of?" Cal said, frowning a bit. "I don't know; it was weird. I was just taking a walk, checking out the sign, and it feels like the next thing I know, there's a script in my hands..."

Which was how a lot of things happened in Cal's life, really.

Her lips quirked ruefully. "Mr. Tennant, he's somethin' else at times. I don't know if you saw it? But he ususally keeps a razor blade right here," she stuck out her tongue, pointed at it. "Weird, uh? He makes me nervous."

"I didn't notice," Cal admitted, head tilting a little as he thought about the meeting. "That is...yeah, different. Do you know why? I mean, it could just be a weird nervous habit thing, like smoking, but...not."

"Like 'Oh, maybe today will be the day I actually slice my tongue in half'?" She giggled. "He's just very... determined, it seems, in everythin' he says and does. But I like him. I like him very much. He seems to know more about what I want than what I wanted. That probably doesn't make sense to you; he's just a hard man to explain."

"I think I can get it," Cal said, nodding after a slight shrug. He could even feel like he understood the razor blade. The edge of it against the tongue, scraping uncomfortably, the way he sometimes felt cigarette smoke scraped on his lungs. Uncomfortable, but, somehow, strangely, comforting. To know you can still feell the pain after all that time.

"Should be interesting, anyway. I'm not much of an actor."

On stage, anyway.

"If you find you like it and are cast, maybe you wouldn't mind us gettin' together and goin' over are lines? I'm not much of an actress, at all. But I'm enjoyin' the concept of becomin' one."

Lazy lemonade afternoons in Middlesex, Tiresias and Antigone, repeating their lines...

Cal blinked, and shook his head lightly. "Yeah, sure," he said. "Makes sense. Which part you got?"

"Tamora, Queen of the Goths," she answered. "Did Mr. Tennant mention what parts were still available?"

Edited 2008-05-15 15:09 (UTC)

The York Gallery; Wednesday [ 05/14 ] -- Exhibit Opening!

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