Wearable Fine Art
He danced. Not in the proper sense, because it was silent. But needed it really music for dancing? His movements were easy and nimble. Fast, but without hurry. Concentrated.His arms moved sweeping, but completely controlled, in spacious verves. He was focussed to the area in front of his eyes. Despite of his dynamic movements he rested in himself.
Once they got accustomed to the quietness in the room, they noted that it was not completely silent. When the paintbrush touched the paper and streaked about in long, equal verves, there was a noise. With the length of the verve the sound changed. First, when the paintbrush was full of paint, one heard hardly anything. But with the continuation of the movement, the noise became clearer. In the end of each verve it increased in intensity. The firm bristles of the paintbrush generated a scratchy sound. In between his feet gently touching the stone ground in front of his large painting table. The large paper sheet laid loose on it and undulated more and more, the more paint the brush left behind on it.
It was peculiar to attend the creation of such kinds of pictures they had seen a few days ago in the gallery. There they were static. Depending on the motive archaic and strong, few wide brushstrokes. Other lighter, thinner strokes, slackening courses. But now the perspective changed. The static partition of space on a large paper sheet was the result of dynamic activity. It were frozen movements.
Like spellbound Una and Mono followed this spectacle. They could not say how long they had stood at the door. At first only concentrating on the paintings, they started to let their eyes wander around the studio after a while. A large, high room with a continuous window front to the North. Evenly, soft light gave all objects a surreal aura. Far in the distance they could hear the noises of the city and remembered that they were still in New York City.
“How long have you been standing here to observe me?” Unexpectedly, but without any harshness, his voice cut the noisy silence of the studio. With outstretched arms he came toward them. “Una, Mono, that you really came!” They heartily hugged one another, as he had been friends with Mono for a long time. And Una now belonged to it.
0010 - David Kuntzsch