Logs:Life and Destruction

Life and Destruction
Dramatis Personae Ryan, Amo
In Absentia Spencer, Jax	2024-08-11 "Only when the art moves me. I mean, s'all a conversation, ain't it?"
Location <NYC> Chimaera Arts - Dumbo
This is just one of the many abandoned warehouses in DUMBO, and like many of them it has recently changed hands. Unlike most of those, however, it does not have some corporate developer's sign out front promising a transformation into luxury condominiums or a boutique shopping center or the latest concept restaurant. Instead it's marked by a piece of weathered but wildly colorful plywood propped up on a stack of broken pallets, which reads "Chimaera Art Space!" above "chimaera.org" in smaller letters. The warehouse is moderately large and decorated with graffiti art in various styles--some of it recognizable as the work of renowned local street artists. A pair of monstrous scrap metal sculptures, perhaps still works in progress, flank the entrance. The building itself has undergone significant renovation recently, complete with wiring, plumbing, and a modular partitioning system. The grounds, too, have been cleaned up, ramshackle fences torn down and rusting detritus removed in favor of reclaimed (and brilliantly repainted) outdoor furniture ringing an impressively engineered firepit. It's later in the afternoon, but Chimaera is still hectic as ever, if only slightly less hectic inside due to the rare slightly cooler weather allowing for a few more classes than usual to be held outside in the courtyard. Remnants of a graffiti art workshop is taking up a large portion of the courtyard, and the noises of regular art still echo throughout the building. Amo sits upstairs on one of the upper levels at a large open table. She's hunched over some thin copper wires, pliers in hand, probably looking somewhat contradictory to the delicate sculpture she's meticulously bending into shape compared to her sturdy form. Currently, the sculpture is long and thin, about a foot, and looks vaguely like some sort of sea serpent with fins decorating it's back. She wears a high cut black tank top tucked into a pair of beige hiking shorts that come to about mid-thigh. Her black mid-calf socks are both inside out, logo thready and unreadable on the flipped side, and sneakers. She wears no gloves as she works, but upon closer inspection, a rough rocky material seems to be covering the palms of her hands. She hums as she works, something upbeat and catchy, and in it carries some vaguely warm, nostalgic feeling. One that tips on the precipice of turning into a cold nostalgia that gets carefully, subconsciously, reigned back every once in a while back to warmth. The class that's been going on in one of the adjacent classrooms has been oddly lively for a lesson in business negotiation, and it's taken considerably longer than usual for the students to disperse even long after its scheduled end time. Possibly it's made a little more apparent why when, finally, after the last of the students leaves, Ryan Black is making his way out of the classroom. He looks considerably less flashy than his on-stage persona, an ombre purple-pink-blue fishnet crop top on over a faintly sheeny black tank top, wide-wide leg black jeans trimmed in purple as well, quite a lot of hardware on the combat boots he's wearing. He's in a sleek minimalist wheelchair, and is tightening the palm strap on one of his fingerless gloves with his teeth as he wheels himself out. Though he's heading for the elevator he stops, admiring, beside Amo's in-progress sculpture. "Every time I come through here someone's halfway through something even cooler than last time." His voice is warm in itself, but it comes with a very subtle empathic cheer that isn't entirely attributable to just his congenial tone. "Whozzat?" He's nodding toward the serpent with this question. Amo doesn't look up immediately, finishing hooking another fin into the sculpture and fading the rocky material on her palms, before looking up. Her gaze goes higher first, then tracks down to him. Her expression doesn't change much upon looking at him, besides a quick squint of her eyes, but on a soft breath out, recognition quickly followed by a quiet, neutral note of surprise floats out as well. She jerks her chin up in greeting, and the rocky material quickly regathers on her palms, "Aye. Thanks." A slight accent pulls at her words when she speaks. She gestures to her sculpture with her pliers, "S'called a taniwha. Don't always look like this though, just one version of'em." A pleased feeling intertwines easily with his cheer, readily accepted, and into the wire she twists with the pliers. Her eyes track the classroom Ryan had come from, and back to Ryan himself, "You just finish up a class or somethin'? Sounded pretty active in there." "Oh, yeah, the subject matter's kinda boring so I try to keep it lively." Ryan's leaning just slightly forward in his chair to examine the delicate bend of the wires. "Taniwha." He echoes this with a careful feel of committing it to memory. "S'it like, a water... dragon? Water spirit? I love how you do the fins, it looks so graceful. Like I can feel it swimming." "Yeah? What're you teaching? And got any tips you mind sharing? I'll be starting up teaching soon- I find it fun but, y'know." She shrugs a shoulder, "S'not the case for everyone, unfortunately." When Ryan leans closer, Amo pushes her sculpture closer as well to make it easier for him to see. She looks up from her twisting to watch him as he speaks, scanning his face, before speaking up herself, "Thanks, man." Still, her focused expression hasn't changed much, but a bright, hesitant warm feeling, maybe something like pride and the nostalgia from earlier, melt together into her thanks. "Yeah yeah it's a bit like a water spirit." Her voice pitches upwards slightly, excitement rolling off in a much higher degree than her tone would suggest, "Sometimes a type of guardian, also sometimes dangerous too. Gotta respect it, yknow?" "Just some business shit. Kinda a, how to be a musician under capitalism primer. Uhh -- " Ryan squints up one eye, expression kind of lopsided-amused as he hedges, "... did you want tips on that or on teaching? What're you gonna be teaching, and to who, probably makes a big difference." When Amo pushes the sculpture near he's also rolling just a smidge closer, pushing himself slightly higher on his arms to inspect it more closely. "-- feels kinda like water itself, huh? Life and destruction both." He's brightened, kinda infectious, at her excitement, and even when he drops back lower into his chair there's an extra bit of animation to how he's seated, an extra bit of intensity to his tone that clearly welcomes her enthusiasm. "That makes sense. Nah I don't need advice on on that." Amo says, bluntly, "I'm sure business can be... Interesting though. Important." She nods, once, as if she's convincing herself of this. "Gonna be teaching chemistry and some other science classes to kids. I teach kids now sometimes, but it's martial arts stuff, easy to find cool n' all that." Her eyebrows tick upwards at his observation, "Yeah that's exactly it. You nailed it bro." The excitement peaks suddenly, overwhelming, perhaps much quicker than it usually would due to the feedback loop, and one of her hands flicks twice down by her side, like she’s shaking water from it. The movement carries away the excess excitement, and the feeling goes from overwhelming to manageable again. "If you ever want a break from the music business career, you could be some kinda—art interpreter, or somethin’.” "Oh, kids, that's rad, where at? I never knew shit about science but my kid's taught me, like, infinite more things than I knew before." Ryan's hand makes a kind of seesawing hand in the air after this. "Important, probably. Interesting -- eh. But I woulda fucking starved to death broke and unknown if I didn't have hell of people boosting me up, y'know? Figure if I can pass any of that along..." He shrugs, and a small involuntary shiver runs through him just before that flick of Amo's hand. In the following ebbing of the tide his smile has at once eased off and warmed, less intense but no less sincere. "Only when the art moves me. I mean, s'all a conversation, ain't it? What you put in a piece, what a piece stirs up in anyone else. That's one of the things I love about it, like, if someone's really feeling what I'm saying there's a synergy there and if they're feeling something different then I get a whole new perspective." A flush rises to his cheeks after this, and he ducks his head, rubbing slightly sheepish at the back of his neck. "Sorry. Didn't mean to, uh, ramble." He gestures towards the sculpture. "Just like their energy. You know if s'got a home yet, when you're done?" “I get it.” The words are simple, too simple perhaps with how much Ryan’s words seem to resonate, striking up the old nostalgia from earlier. Amo’s nodding, the wire she’s wrapping around the pliers fluid and quick, “Long line of people got me here today. I gotta do the same for the next.” There’s a determination, once again mixing with the old nostalgia when she says this, bolstered by Ryan’s shared sentiment. “Gonna be teaching at Xavier’s school. Know anyone else there?” She’s quiet as she listens to Ryan, but her hands keep moving to finish off the spiral she’s working on. Again, she welcomes his enthusiasm, allows it to intermingle and add to her own. It’s only once he’s done, and apologizing, that she looks up sharply from her piece. Her eyes flicker across his face, down to his hands, before she speaks up again, eyes darting up and down between his face and her piece, “Nah- it’s chill. Really.” The unsaid appreciation rolls off her words in waves, sparks of intrigue dotted alongside it. She gestures towards him emphatically. “Shit like that’s part of the reason I do this kinda thing, I like to tell a story. It’s-” A swelling warm feeling now, “-cool to hear that it’s working. I can’t always tell, yeah? So, thanks.” She lifts up the wire work and inspects it, “Not sure yet, I’m liking how it’s turning out. Was debating between a gift or a new decoration for my office.” "Ohshit, I know so many people there. Be ready for my kid to talk your ear off about chemistry. Spence, that's him," like any doting parent Ryan has immediately broken his phone out to proudly show Amo a photograph of a tall dark-haired teenager holding a kippah on with one hand as he hangs upside-down by his knees from what is definitely a dangerously high branch in a sprawling oak tree. "S'his last year there. His Pa teaches there, too, I'm sure you'll meet him." He's leaning slightly forward, elbow resting on his knee and his eyes shifting in casual thought between Amo and the sculpture. "What can I call you, anyway? -- One thing's for sure-sure, you gonna come out that place with way more stories to tell." Amo’s eyebrows shoot up, and she’s immediately putting down her pliers to lean in to look at the photo. Finally, a smile briefly tugs at the corner of her mouth. That same determination from earlier thrums again, along with a growing excitement, “His last year? That’s sweet as. He know what he wants to do yet?” The rocky texture fades from her palms and she rubs them on the fabric of her shorts. “Aye my bad, call me Amo. And bet it doesn’t surprise you you’re not the first person to tell me that.” Amusement hums, and she gestures towards Ryan, “What should I call you?” Maybe the question seems silly, considering who she’s talking to, but it does ring genuine from her. "He still wants to do literally everything." Ryan is smiling broad at this fact as he puts his phone away again, "but I think he's kinda leaning physics. Narrowing down what school's'd be best for that. Amo," he echoes with a nod. "I'm Ryan," sounds genuine enough, too. "And nooo it doesn't. Hope you're good and crazy already, it makes the adjustment period easier. At the least I feel like a chemistry teacher's gotta come a little pre-jaded for when things start exploding." Amo nods, “Ryan, thanks. Figured but- wanted to check.” She shrugs a shoulder. She leans back again as he puts the phone away, resting an arm on the table. “He won’t ever get bored with physics. Lotsa cool shit there.” Her words give off a warm buzz, like something constantly on the precipice of flaring into something more. She tilts her head side to side in consideration, and she hums in amusement, “Crazy? Sure. Jaded, probably. Seen enough explosions.” She lets out a long sigh, and it carries out a thin thread of anxiety. It gets replaced by the determination from earlier, easily slotted in its place, “Too bad kids can be so squishy, aye? We should really fix that.” She jokes. "At that school?" The amusement in Ryan's voice spills over in a faint empathic ripple. "Some of them are way ahead of you." His head has tilted slightly to the side, thumb tapping lightly at an arm of his chair. "Hopefully contained classroom-explosions-only from here out." He's shifting in his chair, sitting slightly back. "I should let you get back to giving this taniwha life. Hope I get to see it when it's all done, though." Amo’s eyebrows tick up and she breaths out a half laugh, encouraged by Ryan’s amusement, “Here’s hoping.” She’s picking back up her pliers and the rocky texture regathers on her palms. Something pleased reverberates through her, and a spark of motivation. She nods, “Hell yeah, man. I’ll make sure.” She tilts her head, “And maybe if I’m lucky, my eyebrows won’t be singed off by the next time we see each other.”