Lost in the Painting

Lost in the Painting

  by Nobo13

  Copyright 2012 Nobo13

  *****

  Lost in the Painting

  What is your earliest memory? A childhood memory perhaps?

  I remember being very young, my parents had taken me to an art gallery. I had wandered off from their side and found myself alone in a room filled with sad paintings. I was sure that it was empty because the paintings were so sad, but to me, they were beautiful.

  My parents must have worried their socks off, for a curator had found me and called security on her walkie-talkie. She stayed by my side and watched that I didn't go anywhere.

  But I didn't, I couldn't. I had wandered off because something called me. You see, I have my childhood memories, but I have something else. I wouldn't even call it a memory, a feeling perhaps? I had a feeling that someone was waiting for me.

  And it was this feeling that called out to me, and it was this painting that was the source. I stood before a window into the desert. The fiery sands, and the barren wasteland were so harsh but it was beautiful. The sun was setting and the sky was turning pink, but it was a harsh time. And in the middle of all this despair, was a tiny figure of a man walking.

  The curator had seen myself captivated by the painting and knelt down to my side. At that, she had seen that I was crying.

  "Don't worry," she smiled, "Your parents will be here soon"

  "No?" I replied

  "A-Are you hurt? What's the matter?"

  "It's just so sad"

  "What is?"

  And to her question I pointed to the painting.

  "Ah," she smiled, "Would you like to know about it?"

  I nodded

  "This is called 'The Man in the Desert' and it was painted by William Gilford, he's a very famous painter. It's about a old fairy tale, do you know it?"

  I shook my head

  "Well, long ago, there was a man who lived in the desert. Did you know our planet used to be all desert? You do? Ok, and you did know nothing survives in the desert? Well this man did. Some said he was a god. Some said he was a demon. There are legends of him commanding beasts, and myths of him finding water. And in the end no one knew why he lived in the desert"

  "He was looking"

  "Hmm?" the curator turned to me

  "He was looking"

  "Looking?"

  "It's lost in the painting"

  My parents had found me by then and we were reunited. That is my earliest memory, and one that shaped my life. From then, I knew what I wanted to do with my life.

  *****

  "Careful with that! That's an original Remon!" I shouted

  "Yes ma'am"

  "Chop chop boys, I want those installed before the gallery opens!"

  "Yes ma'am"

  "A slave driver as always" a voice laughed

  "Richard!"

  "So these are your new instalments?"

  "Yep, five Remons, six Yamadas, and a Gilford, an original Gilford! What's with that reaction?"

  "Hah," Richard sighed, "No one can be that enthusiastic"

  "Come on Dick, if we aren't, then what hope do the public have? You there! Careful! That's not a duplicate!"

  "I'm sure they know what they're doing Anna"

  "But Dick!" I argued as he walked me off

  "Come on, we're going to be late, remember? You don't? This is why we call you the crazy airhead you know? We have interns coming this morning. Oh now you remember, so do you remember the picking order?"

  "How come I'm last?"

  "You drew the short straw remember?"

  "Drawing straws is a stupid way to decide these things! And how come you always get the first pick! You're way too lucky at these things"

  "What can I say? Anyway, it's decided, I got first pick, then Susan, and?"

  "And I'm left with the poor reject. This happened last year as well! Remember the pigtailed girl? She nearly destroyed my whole collection!"

  "That's because you store all the duplicates on your own computer, you know that's frowned upon. Upload them onto the network"

  "And what? So that another gallery can print off my hard work?"

  "We don't own the paintings you know"

  "But we put so much work into making those files!"

  "That's true, but?"

  A sudden loud crash stopped our conversation. We walked around the corner to see three people, one of them, a man, was on the floor surrounded by jade shards that used to be a vase.

  The man stretched his hands out and searched the floor. He cut himself a few times before finding his glasses. He put them on, and then turned to me with a guilty face.

  "So you must be the interns?" Richard smiled

  "Oh," I stared at the clumsy idiot and knew my fate, "Please Richard, don't tell Susan at least"

  "Don't tell me what? MY GOD! What has happened here!"

  Speak of the devil. It was no use now, it was written in stone that I would end up with Clumsy here. I stood by the side as Susan screamed her top off. Luckily it was a duplicate and could be printed off again but that didn't stop Susan from having a go.

  The six of us went into the booked room and did a quick interview. Richard had picked Emily Snow, the one with the most credentials, and Susan picked Bishop, a smart lad from Venice. I ended up with Clumsy, no qualifications, no education, and wanted to do art. I tried to laugh it off, but my future looked dark. One thing's for sure, I'm not letting him near any of my paintings, especially the Gilford.

  But it didn't matter much, there was a month of induction, that would keep him out of my hair, and after that, I can have him clean brushes for all I care. Just one more month before I would have to actually face him. I didn't realise it would be much sooner than that.

  *****

  That night I left late, but not after going to see my Gilford. It was finally in its rightful home under my care. This was the painting that changed my life. It was the soul that I looked for. I did this every night, stopping to stare at the painting for an hour at least, before going home.

  Every night it looked more and more beautiful. I could almost feel the heat from the sand. It looked more and more real until the third night I came realised it didn't look real, it was looking new! I thought to myself that maybe I was wrong, the lights were off, and I couldn't be sure, but then the fourth night confirmed it. The whites in the painting shone brighter than the full moon that night.

  I was angry that someone was touching my painting! An original, and they were risking destroying it every night! But at the same time, I was happy, every night I saw the painting become less of a picture, and more of a window into the past. If only I reached my hand out, I would find myself in that desert, I would find myself in front of that tiny figure.

  I spoke with the night guard that night, and after beating it out of him, he said it was taken to my lab every night.

  My lab? I went back to the gallery and hid in the corner. I waited for maybe an hour before a figure came in with the gravity push. He loaded the painting in and then left. I followed closely but I had lost them. It didn't matter anyway, I knew it was my lab that it was being taken to.

  I went over to the lifts but they were out of order. I sighed and took the stairs down to my lab and tried my best to sneak in.

  The EVP was on and a man was working it. I rushed over and shouted at him.

  "What on earth are you doing!"

  "Ah, sorry" the man faced me

  It was Clumsy, my intern! I looked horrified before turning to my painting. And there, I could see the fiery sands move, and the harsh desert wind flowing through the air. I was completely lost in the painting.

  "Erm, Dr. Estrom?" my intern brought me back to earth

  "Ah, right," I
paused to compose myself, "Firstly, explain yourself!"

  "Well, I'm restoring the painting"

  "I can very well see that but that's not what I mean! This isn't a painting you can restore. You shouldn't even know how to work the 3D printer let alone the EVP! Where did you learn these things?"

  "Ah," he paused before smiling hopelessly, "I just picked it up"

  "You just picked it up? You, who has no education beyond Middle School, just picked it up? And you are also telling me that you worked out each colour's frequency in this painting, which by the way, no one has worked out before"

  "Well?" he smiled in a sweat

  I sat up with him all night as he explained. It seemed I wasn't the only one who fell in love with this painting. I had waited twenty-five years to get it in my hands, but this clumsy fool, he knew he couldn't ever have it. So what did he do? He followed it from gallery to gallery, country to country. I had only spent at most a day or two by its side, but this idiot has been with it for eighteen long years.

  "Right," I asked, "So tell me what you know, let's see who's the biggest fan here"

  "I don't think it's a contest"

  "Are you saying I'd lose!"

  "No," Clumsy cowered, "I meant I don't want to make a competition of it"

  "Fine then, let's shoot facts at each other then"

  "Ah, so it's a contest anyway?"

  "First, it's called 'The Man in the Desert'"

  "It's based on a myth"

  "It's painted by William Gilford" I smiled

  "It's painted with nanomaterial based paint"

  "Oh, so you're getting serious now? It can't be duplicated because no one can work out the nanomaterial wave function"

  "No one has restored it because no one has worked out each colour's frequency"

  "Until now"

  "Is that a fact?"

  I nodded

  "Hmm, there's another painting"

  "Hmm?" I suddenly sharpened my sense

  "It's your turn"

  "Repeat that!" I stood up, "What did you just say"

  He looked at me before returning to the painting

  "There's another painting underneath. The real 'Man in the Desert.' Didn't you know that?"

  "No one knows that"

  "Three people do. Me. William Gilford. And now you"

  "Is that your fact?"

  He nodded

  *****

  Every night the painting became more and more perfect and all the while, the mystery surrounding my intern became deeper and deeper. I had asked him to start work straight away after closing time. While I would have stayed up all night again to watch over him, he was relentless, and stayed up for weeks on end.

  He would meet me with the gravity push at eight and he agreed to work for only three hours at a time. No matter how I saw it, he was the bigger fan. Even the gravity press was calibrated to support the painting's weight perfectly.

  He had finished five tones of yellow by now, and was thinking of starting on the pink sky. I watched him play with the EVP dial as he found the frequencies naturally. This wasn't something you can pick up, this was a natural born talent that only geniuses have.

  I asked him how he did it but he replied in his usual manner. I asked once more before he looked at me and laughed.

  "You wouldn't believe me if I told you" he said

  "Go on, I'm called the crazy airhead by everyone here, if anyone's going to believe you, then it's me"

  "It's just a feeling"

  "That's it?"

  "Yes, it's just a feeling, but I know this sky. I've seen it before. I've felt this desert air, I've known the distances in the footprints. I know this man, I know he's looking for something, but it's lost in the painting"

  "I see," I smiled, "You know, I said something similar when I was a kid"

  "Are you saying I'm only at the level of when you were a kid Dr. Estrom?"

  "You wish, but you are something else. William Gilford would be proud"

  "You would think so"

  "Excuse me?"

  "You would think so too right Dr. Estrom?"

  "I don't understand?"

  "About William Gilford, he doesn't approve of me working on his painting"

  "Like I said, you're not making any sense, Gilford's dead, has been for a long time now"

  "Oh, I'm afraid he's very much alive"

  "You know, even a crazy airhead wouldn't believe that much"

  "No, no, that was a fact. Would you like to meet him?"

  "Are you serious?"

  "Tonight is fine, he's been ok recently"

  "No, no, he would be about hundred and fifty!"

  "Erm, one hundred and seventy two from your dates"

  At eleven we took a cab to Saints Avenue, a very well to do area. We arrived to the highest tower in the whole city. As we approached the door, I was surprised to see the doorman greet Clumsy.

  "Welcome back sir, did you have a nice day?"

  "Fine thank you Gregory, it's going to get colder tonight, please try to keep warm"

  "Thank you sir, will do sir"

  "Oi," I asked as we entered the lift, "You don't live here do you?"

  "For now"

  "Really?"

  "Welcome back sir" another doormen greeted us at the top floor, "Company tonight?"

  "Ah, a friend from the gallery, thank you for all the hard work Smith"

  "Thank you sir, have a nice night"

  We took some stairs to arrive at the penthouse on top. The view was absolutely divine, worthy of a god or an angel. Clumsy opened the door with his keys before letting me in. He outreached his hand towards me as I stared clueless.

  "Your coat" he smiled

  "R-right!" I fretted

  "Hilbert? Is that you my immortal friend" a voice called

  "Yes Will, it's me, I've brought company, your biggest fan"

  "Oh, so it must surely be Dr. Estrom" the voice laughed into a cough

  "Don't strain yourself Will"

  I watched as Clumsy rushed over to two doors and opened them. They revealed the master bedroom. There was a frail fragile old man in the bed on life support.

  "Hilbert has been telling me all about you Dr. Estrom" the old man smiled

  "Has he now? I hope it's not anything bad?"

  "No, no, come in, I can't see you in the corridor like that, closer, let me get a good look of you, my god!"

  The old man went pale at my sight. His pulse went erratic as Clumsy rushed over and injected a sedative. The whole ordeal shocked me, but soon the old man was back to his smiling ways.

  "Hilbert, won't you fetch me some water?"

  "Of course, would you like anything to drink Dr.?"

  "Water is fine" I smiled, "Mr. Gilford?"

  "It is me"

  "I can't believe it!" I cried

  "Tell me, is your name perhaps Anna?"

  "It is" I stared shocked

  He was silent for a moment before smiling again, "I see, I see, Hilbert didn't say you were called Anna"

  "Is that a problem?"

  "Oh, no, no, ah Hilbert! What a lovely guest you've brought tonight"

  "She's your biggest fan"

  "Yes!" I nodded, "I've been in love with your painting since a child!"

  "Is this painting, The Man in the Desert?"

  "Yes"

  "I see, I see, so that's how. I never expected it to react to you as well"

  "Mr. Gilford?"

  "Excuse this old man's ramblings, age has not done me any favours"

  "Yes, about that, why have you faked your death? It was a shock to all of us"

  "Well, I like to have my privacy, Hilbert here as well"

  "Even still, you must be the oldest man alive!"

  "Ah, second dear, second I'm afraid"

  "R-really?"

  We had a late supper and talked about the arts and about ourselves. I had spent all this time with Hilbert, but I didn't even learn his name. I suppose he will always be Clumsy to me. Despite
having no education, I learnt that he knew a lot. At first I had thought he was an apprentice to Mr. Gilford, but it somehow seemed the other way round. At times I could dimly see the two as father and son, but it was Clumsy who was the father, and Mr. Gilford the son. I couldn't explain it.

  I was able to learn more about my intern with Mr. Gilford about. If Clumsy didn't answer, the old man sure spilled the beans.

  "So? How did you get so good at the EVP?" I asked

  "The EVP? Hah ha ha, Hilbert here invented it!" the old man laughed

  "Invented it?"

  "William," Clumsy sighed, "Forgive him, I'm sure he meant to say my family invented it, isn't that right Will?"

  "Oh yes, that's right!" he laughed

  "You make a funny pair" I smiled

  "Indeed, we've been together since forever, he even saved my life, isn't that right Hilbert?"

  "It wasn't much"

  "Oh, so is that how you met?" I asked

  "It is, why do you ask?" Mr. Gilford stared clueless

  "Because, how else could a nobody like Clumsy here meet a famous painter like yourself!"

  At that the two of them looked at each other and laughed loudly. I stared a bit offended however I soon joined in.

  "So you call him Clumsy?"

  "Well, he did break a jade vase on his first day"

  "I see, I see, it is certainly fitting, but he isn't so Clumsy with his surroundings"

  "Oh?"

  "He's quite Clumsy with his heart"

  Hilbert didn't speak much that night, he was quiet as usual, but he was staring at me all night. It wasn't an ominous stare, but a kind and caring one. I couldn't understand it, but it was like the painting. I felt the same feeling coming from him, as I did from the painting. No wonder they call me the crazy airhead huh?

  *****

  It was a month now since I found myself involved with the two lives of Mr. Gilford and Hilbert. The restoration of the painting was done and even Susan, the sculptor, had noticed it.

  "So when did you work it out?" Richard asked me during lunch one day

  "You mean the nanomaterial frequency?"

  "Yes of course the nanomaterial frequency"

  "I didn't"

  "Oh?" Susan raised an eyebrow

  "I'm afraid you two picked the wrong interns, it was all the work of Clumsy"

  "Impossible!" Susan exclaimed, "Even Bishop is struggling with the 3D printer, any vase turns to plates in his hands"

  "Susan's right," Richard smiled, "Even Emily is just starting with cyan, yellow and magenta with the EVP. She wouldn't have a clue about mixing real colours"

  "I'm telling the truth here, I'll tell you now, he's probably the best person here"