Closed Beyond the Brushstrokes

[Thelma Towgood]

Thelma loved her job. No really, she thought, raising her wine glass in air-cheers at a familiar face she'd spotted on the other side of the gallery. I love my job. It wasn't always this fun, of course - a lot went on behind the scenes in the catering business - but the fact she got to reap the rewards of her effort so directly made the stress well worthwhile. The turnout was excellent; witches and wizards of all ages and style still trickled through the panelled doors now, drawn in by the vibrant burst of colour. It had been a sensible decision, she felt, to discount her services for Casper's exhibition. Two people had already ask Thelma for her card, and a third had offered to advertise her business at his upcoming fete.

Speaking of good business decisions, Thelma had observed a curious phenomenon: those who were not particularly interested in art when they first entered were considerably more receptive after a glass of Pinor noir. By the second glass, nearly every painting in the room would have looked delightful on their living room wall - and if this one here was for sale, how much was it, please?

She had noticed something else, too - a woman, standing in the corner. There was something artistic about her aura. Something welcoming, too, although Thelma didn't need a divine sign to approach an interesting stranger. She was a networker. She did this for a living.

"Whoever thought to serve free alcohol at an art exhibition is a genius," she said, taking a sip from her own glass. Casper's artwork enchanted her sober, but even she had to admit the landscape in front of her seemed more detailed than it had an hour ago. "Do you think it opens up our creative inner eye? Or does everything have a deeper meaning after a glass of red?"

 

[Mystic Rain]

Mystic loved going to art events. It was one of the few times she dressed down- for her- and let herself be lost in the world of the artist. She'd been following the work of Casper Beckett- now Kinnek- since she'd seen him published in a magazine. She liked looking at his work, even owned a few of his pieces herself. So when she'd heard, she threw on a primarily cyan pantsuit with a short jacket and a geometrical pattern, and had her wild curls in a thick, loose fishtail braid, a matching cyan geometrical patterned headscarf over her head and chunky square, dangling earrings.

She was enjoying herself, browsing with a glass of wine in her hand. She was standing in the corner, taking in the general vibe of the gallery, when someone approached her. Mystic turned to her with an open smile. She laughed at the question. "Can't it be both?" She teased, swirling the wine in her glass. "Some of us might not be so in tune with our inner eye- a little relaxation, a little red, it can help clear those clouds." She teased, turning more towards her companion.