Chapter Six

Bella

I was taken aback when Daniel told me that my painting looked like rubbish, not just because I had never heard someone be so straightforward and harsh in their criticism before, but also because I knew for a fact that his statement wasn’t just him trying to criticize me; it was how he really felt after looking at my work.

I honestly wasn't sure how to react since this had never happened to me before.

"If you believe that my painting is rubbish, could you explain why?" I asked, trying not to sound too defensive.

"I don't understand art most of the time," he admitted. "But I'm willing to listen to what you have to say and try to understand what this painting means to you. Maybe then I can appreciate it more. But keep in mind, I’m not making any promises on this," he added.

"Well, this painting is called 'Euphoria'," I said, pointing to the canvas in front of us. "I created it during a time when I was feeling extremely happy and carefree. I wanted to capture that feeling and express it through color and shapes."

I went on to explain the different colors and lines in the painting—the oranges and yellows symbolizing joy and energy, and the blues and greens representing calmness and peace.

"You see, art is not always about creating something that's easily discernible or understandable," I told him. "It's about expressing emotions and ideas in a way that words cannot. I know it sounds strange to someone like you, who likely believes that words are a better option to describe how you feel, but sometimes it’s best to leave words unsaid and find other means to communicate your feelings, and art is another way to do that," I explain, and he stared back at me with an intense gaze.

Earlier, I had tried not to read too much into the way Daniel was looking at me. It wasn't a creepy or inappropriate gaze, but it still felt intense, especially since we hardly knew each other, and I couldn't help but feel a little self-conscious.

"Well," I began, trying to shake off my discomfort, "I didn’t say all this to change your mind per se. I just want to share my perspective on the painting and hopefully help you see it in a different light other than rubbish because trust me, art isn’t rubbish. It might be a little difficult to understand, but that is the beauty of it," I said.

Daniel just raised an eyebrow skeptically.

"I'm serious," I continued, hoping to convince him. "I'm not looking to persuade you to think that it's the best painting in the world, but just to help you see it from a different angle instead of simply believing that it’s completely useless and uninteresting," I assured.

There was a brief pause before he spoke again: "Well, I'm all ears. Let's see if you have any better luck than Mary, who, I tell you, has tried. I can’t recall the many times she has tried to make me interested in art through her paintings, even though she ended up failing woefully at convincing me."

"I'm guessing Mary tried to sell you on the painting by explaining her own interpretation and why she thinks it's beautiful?" I asked Daniel, who nodded in agreement.

"And isn't that what artists usually do?" he added.

I scoffed at the notion. "If that's what you think I'm going to do, then you're in for a surprise. I'm not here to sell you my interpretation, Sir. My goal is to help you form your own interpretation," I corrected.

I explained that I preferred it when people came up with their own ideas about my work instead of just blindly following my lead. It was important to me that others could find their own connection and meaning in my art, instead of just trying to relate solely to my meaning.

Daniel didn't say anything at first, but a small smile played on his lips as he listened to me. I couldn't help but feel a little self-conscious, though, wondering if my words were coming across as pretentious or arrogant.

"So, how are you going to make me understand your work in my own way?" he finally asked.

I took a deep breath, feeling the weight of the challenge in front of me. "First, I need you to have an open mind and not dismiss it as rubbish before you give it a chance. Then, I want you to just look at it and tell me what you see. Anything besides the fact that it looks like a dirty canvas," I replied, hoping he reduced his bluntness because I certainly wouldn’t be able to take it.

"As for this painting, I view it as a representation of change and how it can be good or bad. It starts with white, which is neutral, and transitions into yellow, representing a time when life seems perfect. A time where everything seems to be at peace and you feel like your life is in order, just as you want it to be. Then it shifts into a darker shade of red, symbolizing heightened passion and potential danger. The addition of gray represents anxiety and a shift towards seriousness. It’s a point where you realize that life isn’t going how you want it to, and because of this, you become anxious and afraid," I explained, offering my interpretation of the painting to him.

"Now, how about you share your own thoughts and interpretation with me? What do these colors mean to you personally?" I asked, curious about his perspective.

"I enjoyed hearing your explanation, but I think I'll keep my own interpretation to myself if that's alright," he replied, smiling slightly.

I wasn't sure if he was being honest or just trying to politely end the conversation, so I asked him if he truly understood my work.

"I have no reason to lie to you, Bella. While I can't say that I suddenly love art, I was able to interpret your work in my own way, and I just prefer to keep it to myself because it's personal," he replied reassuringly.

I decided to trust him and move on, but then he surprised me by asking me if he could buy the painting.

"Unfortunately, this painting isn't for sale," I replied, and he frowned.

"Can I insist that you change your mind?" he insisted, and I was immediately irritated.