Adel Creates

"Keepsake"

Would she like flowers? What kind? What colour? Maybe something more precious. A pair of pearls? An amulet? A ring?

The big man has made several strolls by the gift shops, peering down through the windows, and he always left scratching his head. He searched far and wide. He searched deep within. What would please the noble lady? A decision was made, and he was proud of it. This was the gift that she was going to like. He returned in the direction of a painting shop and brought the lady with him this time, her arms wrapped around his. Portraiture. It was the most sophisticated gift he could think of, and she could not help but smile. She was content, but he smiled in earnest hope that he could give her more.

"Noble’s Pretense"

On mornings where I have no scheduled portraitures for the day, I and my bookkeeper attend to a few lords and ladies who browse through my shop for paintings on sale or carved frames for their own. Among those who browse is a man in an embellished teal coat and an ornate rapier dangling by his left hip. Quite a sociable man as he joins in on other patrons’ perusing from time to time, “That one matches your eyes, my lady.”

“You really think so?” she returns. It adds some colour to these steadily-paced hours where the morning meets the afternoon. But the man is merely distracted by his eagerness to make company. He is in fact dressed to request for a portrait, particularly because he had just purchased a new set of, oh what did he call it, justacorps and would like to preserve this look in a painting. He talks of journeying to a place called...Bavaria? I have never heard of it, but I hope his new look is enough for the city to welcome this friendly man.

"Waning Crescent"

A lady with pink bobbing curls rings my chimes, arriving at the shop with excitement across her face. She is followed by a huge companion who had to duck through the doorway, a charming warrior who enters with grace, and a hooded fellow who leans and waits by the door. Chatter and laughter grow as the group attempts to perform a professional transaction with my bookkeeper, counting coins by ones instead of twos. They saved enough gold for a portrait of their soft-spoken friend, Adira.

“Thank you, Lady Adel. I hope we are not inconveniencing you,” she says in a low tone.

I lead her to the studio where we begin her portraiture. She was a bit tense, smiling unnaturally and perhaps more anxious about finding the proper pose as her friends watched through the opening in the curtains behind me. They giggle in excitement for her, but for a moment, she watches one of them mouth a few words. It was enough to bring warmth to her expression and a slight smile.

"Past the Seeing Eye"

First on the list, done. Second, done. Third, done. All of it, followed by flicks of the man’s ink. “Pleasure, I am Henry. You must be Adel.” He was thoroughly absorbed by the itinerary on his sheet and aims to tick them all to completion, including today’s portraiture for the duchess he escorts. We have concluded a transaction with him making little eye contact. It was one task after another.

“Let’s get this done,” says Lady Alicia. Our hands shake through magic, whoa….

As soon as we sit down, silence befalls the studio. She keeps a stern expression and faces only forward, her blue falcon scanning the room for her. The hours never grow dull. She stays still and upright, but once in a while, her eyes squint with curiosity, studying every detail of my easel, my brushes, my floorboards. Her eyes follow my every move, her ever observing eyes that paint a picture of me in her head. I only wonder what else she sees.

Two Steps Forward, One Step Back

“Thank you for coming!” Once, twice, three times. I remember closing my doors to the man in the silken red shirt too many times. He was incrementally closer to the minute every single time. His expression, always dismayed at the exact same words, “Thank you for coming!” He waits again.

Though sometimes, fate is playful. He was the second customer and brought no lute this time. Instead, a rose. “Ciao! My name is Alfonso.” How did I resist the smooth charms of this man before? I had finally given time for his portraiture. A natural he was, posing as if he had practiced in front of the mirror a few times, but oh silly me. He was dressed early for a reason. The rose was not for anyone else but for the lady he anticipates at the docks. He then waits again.

"Untethered Esteem"

I see them approaching. The lady with the crystalline fluid hair eagerly pulls her beloved by the hand. I continue cleaning my jars, but I can already hear it all even from inside. The silence breaks with my chimes announcing their arrival. It has been a very special week for them both, Sir Diego introducing her as his betrothed. I promised for their portraits to be just as special.

I learned to become comfortable with intimacy in the studio. Love is a rare moment that can only be captured when I am looking, but I will admit. Perhaps, I should not be looking right now. Past the playful romance, he takes her hand, and with their sincerest of gazes, they both sigh with the excitement of the uncertain future.

"Lightning"

The daily groceries must be done, but as the looming grey skies and rolling thunders slowly approach, there are minutes that the patrons take advantage of while no blots of water can be seen on the ground. The streets grow less busier for a moment, and the only ones left are rushing customers and occasional travelling roofed carriages.

The rain falls. All have taken shelter, some standing under any canopy they find. My storefront windows blur out in the cold rain as the lady standing there is tucked tightly in the corner, refusing to look at the skies. A flash of deafening pure white light fills the city, and I wonder if the god behind the clouds revels in this. I think she is afraid. I let her in my shop while we wait to let it pass.

"Starstruck"

I don’t think my studio was ready for the tidying up I did today. See, the canvases were lined up, paints behaved on the shelves like children, and all the brushes were tucked away in mugs. I had just locked the front entrance and prepared the backdoor for her arrival. Signage is now flipped to “closed.”

Finally, she’s here, seated right at the center. Surreal! Her smile, her laugh. What magnetic charm she brings! Her assistants and guards are scattered and stand right where they need to. I begin sketching, but my mind runs. Would they use my painting for a poster? Is she preparing for her next show? I cannot believe how a task so mundane as this is making me feel immensely electric. There must be a word for this sort of thrill.

There it is, blowing in the wind and slipping through the cracks of the doors. The purple glow lands gently upon my desk. I blink twice to understand what I see. No, not a falling leaf. It is a fella, smartly dressed and decorated. He fixes his coat, almost displeased that the little illusory drumrolls I play are not a call to action but a mere call for his attention. “Hello, sir! This painting on the leaf, it is you, isn’t it? I attempted to capture your likeness in my own painting. Not as impressionistic as yours, but I hoped I came close.” He takes my gift, quite impressed that I had painted it on a tiny canvas.

“She’s going to like this,” he says with a cheeky smile. He slaps his forehead as if remembering something, “Oh, shoot! I must find my way home! Will you help me?”

Halls with pillars towering high, curtains draped to the floor, candles lit upon chandeliers, today was a special day. Much like the voices of the arriving guests and the symphony playing in the air, I am filled with all sorts of thrilling emotions, an overwhelming mix of joy and anxiety that an assembly of total strangers get to look at my exhibit of paintings up close. I feel so little in these great halls, and even smaller against the giant curious lady in a beautiful blush gown with bright fiery hair over there. She came to me to give her compliments and graciously wished she’d have a similar painting of herself. I hate to stare too long, but truly, it was me who was enchanted enough by her to say yes.