Page 97 of The Backup Plan
Avery counted on her fingers. “What else? The Duomo, a Russian Orthodox cathedral, a Bavarian castle, and the Cologne Cathedral. Cologne was probably the hardest, but it meant the most.”
Mindy’s fingers flew across her keyboard to bring up a photo. “Why?”
“It took a lot of bomb hits from Allied planes during World War Two, and the restoration is still ongoing. Scaffolding is just part of the structure now. I used it as sort of a foil to the piece on Notre Dame, where it’s this lovely, peaceful blue and gold. In Cologne, there’s peach and lemon fire in the sky and pink across the mint-green grass. Silver leaf for the planes.” She took a deep breath. “And I’m sure it was the hardest because I was feeling pretty beat-up myself. Making scaffolding out of tiny lollipops forced me to think about rebuilding and restoring and…”
She trailed off.
“I’m impressed with the breadth of your selections for that series, Avery, and the thought you put into the colors,” Mindy said. “It all presents as so light and fluffy and fun, but the intent requires the audience to take a history lesson. It seems like people could enjoy these pieces just for being pretty on a superficial level, but your technique and intent elevate them.”
“Do the photos in my portfolio show how they were displayed?” Avery asked. “I can’t remember what I sent. I had photos of just the canvases, but the display was so fun.”
“I think I just saw canvases.”
“I did candy tables. Cotton candy and rock candy and fill-your-own bags for jellybeans. I really did a lollipop scaffolding around the Cologne Cathedral. The canvases were presented under shimmery, clear plastic like a gift basket wrapper. I had to find just the right plastic to see through, but it had to add to the effect. I found one that looked a little like a rainbow where it caught the light.”
“If you have photos of the presentation, I’d love to see them. Do you have any samples of your writing that I could look at?” Mindy tapped at her computer again. “Three-hundred level art history classes usually have a significant writing component. I love your enthusiasm and will be happy to help you get in, if you’re at the right level to do the work and enjoy it. If you’re not prepared yet, that’s okay. Lower-lever survey courses will get your writing in shape if that’s what you need, and we’ll find another course like this later.”
“I went to a fine arts magnet school, so I had an art history class and some essays. I also have the piece I wrote to accompany the exhibition. Could I send you those for a look?”
“Absolutely. Get those to me this week, and let’s set a time to meet next week and finalize your spring coursework.”
“Mindy?”
“Yes?”
Avery pushed her hair behind her ears. “Thanks for understanding about my colors. It’s such a dumb blonde stereotype with the candy and bubblegum colors and everything’s light and pretty and fun. People sometimes think I’m not serious about what they represent. Ha ha, the pretty pink means blood, yeah, right.”
“You’re not dumb, Avery. You’re lemony and peachy and cotton candy, but that’s your energy. You’re a thoughtful artist, and I bet those candy baskets were empty after your show.”
“They were.” Avery cracked a smile.
“Mass appeal doesn’t make art less valuable. A confectioner can spend hours on something fancy and have someone eat it in a bite and say ‘wow, that was tasty,’ and go grab a Snickers. Artists run the same risk when we make something superficially pretty. People might consume it only for the prettiness.”
“I wonder sometimes if I even have it in me to create out of a more obvious pain,” Avery said. “Red instead of pink. Sharp edges. Maybe I try too hard to make everything pretty and just end up covering up the hurt and calling it symbolism.”
“Hurt takes many forms. And colors.”
“I don’t know if I’ll ever be able to create something about losing my brother. Something for him. A think piece about lifejackets and hypothermia, blues and oranges, or the glory of football, or… I don’t know. Maybe pink footballs is the best I can do.”
“I think that now that you’ve said it out loud, pink footballs won’t ever be enough. And it’s okay. Maybe that’s not how you cope with loss. What would you make for him if he were alive? What would make him laugh?”
Avery looked in her lap, hands fidgeting as she smiled. “He would have liked at my senior show. He was pretty simple about art. He liked it to make sense and be pretty and not have a bunch of hidden meanings, so I think he’d have enjoyed the architecture and the colors. And the candy.”
“Keep thinking pink then, if that’s the direction your heart leads you. Your timeline is open-ended. Maybe an entirely different project will end up healing some of that hurt by accident. It happens.”
“That would be a bonus.”
“And for your next show, I know a guy who sells M&Ms by the color. He’ll hook us up with your precise color scheme.”
Us. Avery’s cheeks flushed with excitement at the connection.
“Do you know if your pieces all went together at auction, or separately?”
“Together. And I’m not really sad. I could probably get one back if I truly wanted to, since the gallery owner knows this collector. He’s asked me to notify him when I do a show here, so that’s pretty exciting.”
“It is. Which one would you get back, if you could?” Mindy pressed. “Cologne Cathedral?”
Avery shook her head. “Nah. Boring old Versailles, the pain in my ass that started it all. But I won’t ask. That collection helped get me here. I don’t need to hold it in my hands ever again to appreciate what I’ve done.”