fandomhigh | Hands-On Art, Class #4, Period 1

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hands-on art

Hands-On Art, Class #4, Period 1

When the students arrived in class today, they'd find several possibly familiar-looking reprints of some paintings tacked up around the room, and a Lily waiting for everyone to show before speaking.

"Hi, guys, Hope those of you who spent any part of the weekend in the clinic are feeling better, or are at least on enough pain meds to not know the difference. That was a joke," she said quickly. "Drugs are bad." Really.

"You may have noticed our lovely room decorations today. These are some pretty well-known works, some by more famous artists, some not-so-famous, but I tried to go for a good range of different styles. Some of them we'll be studying a little about in class, later, too," Lily went on. "This first one here is Vase with Twelve Sunflowers by Van Goh, who was a little uncreative in naming that one. And then we have Water Lilies, by Claude Monet, A Sunday Afternoon on the Island of La Grande Jatte by Seurat, and yes, I think that one woman has a bustle, not a ghetto booty. There's The Scream by Edvard Munch, and finally, Nighthawks by Edward Hopper.

"They've all got different styles and were all painted in different ways, so this is more of you trying to find more of your own personal style by choosing one of these paintings to recreate in your own way. Remember when you tried out some new mediums? Hopefully you found something you're comfortable with, so feel free to use whatever you want. Go wild. I have no problem with you taking your work home to work on, either, as long as it comes back here next week so I can see it.

"Oh," and Lily added, almost as an afterthought. "We're also kind of sort of having homework now, sorry. It's easy, I swear. For next week, bring in a picture or a really really good mental image of something you'd maybe consider for a good still life piece. See, easy."

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"It's a Fandom thing," Peter told her. "Don't blame yourself."

"Yeah, well, I swore off guys for a while before I came here," she explained. "And Saturday, well... you and everybody'd been telling me what a good guy Dean was and I'd had a little to drink..."

She tugged her turtle neck up a little higher. "Guess it was just the Universe telling me I shouldn't go back on my decisions."

"Doubles happen," Peter said. "Sometimes it's good, sometimes not. There's no way you could've known."

"Next time, I will," she said. "Not that there's going to be a next time. Not for a long while probably."

She slashed at her painting a little more. "God, I don't even want to run into him or Alec again. I'll be way too embarrassed. He apologized to me on radio, you know? And why? It wasn't his fault."

"'cause he's a good guy?" Peter offered.

"Yeah, he is," Peyton said with a sigh.

"I'm sorry this was your introduction to the real quirks of Fandom," Peter said. "Normally they're not so scary."

Peyton shrugged. "Guess I have to get used to it if I'm going to stay, right?"

"I'm sorry," she said again after another moment. "You're being really nice and I'm just being a bitch. I really do appreciate it, though. This just... I guess I'm just struggling with a lot of stuff."

"Hey, what're fake siblings for?" Peter asked, and meant it.

"For helping out ungrateful little sisters?" she asked ruefully.

"That too," Peter teased.

She grinned at him. "You should stop by and see what we've done with our room. This will fit in pretty well on my side."

"Love to," Peter said. "Do I get any hints on what I'll see or is it going to be a surprise?"

Peyton laughed. "Depends what side of the room you look on. Mine's kind of vibrant red and black with a bunch of my art work on the walls - which, well... they're not too unlike the one here. Meg's side is lighter and I did a huge mural of the mountains with a ski lift on one wall. The doors are black chalkboard paint so we can write on them."

"Cool," Peter said. "The door must be great for seasonal pictures too I'd bet."

"Huh..." Peyton said thoughtfully. "I never considered that, but maybe. I'm not so much a landscape person generally, though."

"What's your favorite?" Peter asked.

She shrugged. "I mostly do pencil sketches. Dark pictures or mini comic strips. It's a way to get some of my emo out and onto paper instead."

"Made a few of Dean, but I shredded them when I found out what had really happened."

"That can be cathartic," Peter said. "A way of not letting the negative completely take over, you know?"

"Yeah. I, uh... tend to not do so well with that. Particularly around this time of year," she admitted. "I go a little off the deep end."

"Because of the season?" Peter asked.

"I tend to do stupid things around the anniversary of my mother's death," she said. "Like... really stupid things. Even though it's been almost nine years it just... it hurts so much. And now with my birth mother somewhere around... I don't know."

"It's your mom," Peter said. "I don't think that's ever going to not be meaningful for you."

"Yeah," she said, staring at her painting as if it held the answers she was looking for. "She was coming to get me, you know? She was running late and she ran a red light and... that was it."

"It's not your fault," Peter said.

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