ArchivedLogs:One Point to Staff

One Point to Staff
Dramatis Personae Aloke, Shelby
In Absentia	2013-05-21 Aloke comes out ahead in a student encounter.
Location <XS> Art Room - FL2
Smells of paints and chalks and turpentine mingle freely in this room, well-used, well-stocked. Natural light flows in, plentiful through the large windows. The long counter-like tables are speckled with spots of color, and half finished projects often stand on easels or propped in corners. The many cupboards lining the walls are crammed full of art supplies. Those fortunate--or clever--students who planned their schedules carefully have a free period during the day, ostensibly for the purpose of studying or completing homework. Shelby is neither fortunate nor clever, and she uses that break not to improve herself but to sneak into her favorite classrooms to /create/. Today, that means raiding the art room for supplies. What? Why should she shell out for paint and charcoal and everything else when there's cupboards full of supplies right here! So, during a lull and during her break period, Shelby has crept into the art room with an empty backpack. In skinny jeans, sneakers that are falling to pieces and a t-shirt printed with overlaid images of peacock feathers, she is standing up on the counter to get to the higher cupboards and their bounty of goods. The opened backpack is by her feet on the counter, and is receiving the items dropped after passing muster--a set of colored pencils, a couple of tubes of paint, a new trio of horsehair paintbrushes... A flash from the middle of the room, behind Shelby of course, but about as bright as a camera bulb, not all that noticeable with daylight streaming in the big bay windows, accompanied by a soft whuff of air being displaced, is all that announces Aloke's arrival. It could have just been a flicker of the lights, really. He's in his favorite Ramones t-shirt, chinos, and is barefoot. He's also content to just watch for now, curious about the student raiding his cabinets, and pays special attention to exactly what supplies she's interested in. Maybe he can finally bully someone into taking oil painting... Regular students are probably easy to sneak up on. Students who've spent much of their lives on the street, less so. /Especially/ when they are engaged in questionable behavior. Shelby was waiting, all senses GO, for someone to catch her. Flickering lights isn't quite the same thing but...it's unusual enough that she pauses and looks towards the door. One can never tell around here, right? An unopened box of pastels is dropped into the backpack before she thinks to glance over her shoulder. The reaction is immediate--and startled. "Holy fucking shit Christ on a crutch!" she trumpets, spinning around and crouching, one hand clutching her chest. "/DUDE/. That's so fucking /rude/!" Aloke raises an eyebrow. At her reaction? Her language? Hiding his own amusement? Finally he cracks a bemused half-smile and sits back on a stool. "Miss /Wilson/, I presume?" he asks in mock-formality. "I'm glad we finally ran into each other. Which part was rude exactly? The 'visiting my own classroom' part, or the 'waiting patiently while you pilfer my cabinets' bit?" Aloke's Indian heritage is obvious on the outside, but his way of speaking is all New Yorker. His /parents/ probably don't even have Indian accents anymore. The glow in his eyes is faint in the bright daylight, but is still visible, especially because it seems to have become somewhat less diffuse, and more focused when he's speaking to her. Having asked the question, and obviously wanting an answer, he holds up his hand to pause her, so he can add one more bit, "And, Miss Wilson, may I remind you of the school's policy on language. Also, don't call me 'Dude'." He finally lets the false formality drop away. He wants to have this conversation, but he was mostly playing up the stiffness for effect. "Professor Suresh is better, or just Suresh is fine, as far as I'm concerned." No, no, no. "The part where you fucking /sneak up on me/. Like a /creeper/. Jesus." Shelby, unperturbed by being reminded of any school policy, slides to her butt and stretches her legs towards the floor. A short hop sees her safely down again. As for the supplies, well... "I need them. For an art project. It's like. Due soon. For /Professor/ Holland's class," she claims, already reaching to zip the bag shut before anything can be retrieved. "He's the art teacher." That last bit is said with a note of suspicion, blue-green eyes narrowing as she gives Suresh a good looking over. "The /real/ art teacher," she clarifies. Discriminatory? Perhaps. "You're not gonna explode, are you? Jax gets glowy like that, fwoom. Everything catches on fire." Aloke sighs at the mention of 'real', leans forward to lean against a counter that isn't there, and then he flashes to the counter, a few feet down from Shelby. "Explode? Jeez, no. I've had years to get a handle on my ability. I'm /OLD/." Aloke chuckles at some private joke. It's conceivable the 35 year old doesn't actually think of himself as all that old. "On the other hand, it hurts my feelings when you say things like 'real teacher'." Aloke is still smiling, but he lets that hang out in the air long enough for someone to wonder if there wasn't some grain of truth to it. Obviously he's not /crushed/ but still. Wait. What? Adults have FEELINGS? "So look, I know your name, because Holland was telling me about his best student by far. 'Shelby cheats a little,' he said, but I asked, 'Are we gonna call all of our graphic designers cheaters because they use a different tool?" Aloke hops up on the counter and says, "Have a seat, Shelby, we should chat." Living around here, one becomes accustomed to certain things. Certain /weirdness/ occurring on a daily basis. If Aloke didn't move so bloody /fast/, Shelby might take things in stride. But she's a jumpy little chit and his flash forward to take up a position so close sends her scrambling backwards by a step or three. The backpack is hugged sharply to her chest as if she suspects him of wanting to make a grab for it. She scowls. /Scowls/. But she doesn't run away. "...he said I cheat?" The compliment is accepted as her due but /that/ remark is worrisome. Her eyebrows inch together--but the compliment is enough to keep her in place. She compromises between taking a seat and leaving by leaning her hip against the counter, which is as much as Aloke will get...for now. "Chat about what?" Aloke waits patiently when Shelby jumps, and doesn't comment on how jumpy she is. Once she settles against the counter, he can acknowledge the best he's going to get for now. He shrugs and holds his hands up, "Hey, ok, he didn't say 'cheat'. We were just talking about how you can change something after its drawn. I /might/ have been a little jealous. My work is stuck where I put it." Aloke clears his throat, and backs away slowly to open up a different tall cabinet. Easing out a hot pot full of water, and a box of tea, he jiggles the box. "You want some tea?" Shelby's lips purse as she considers the man. The moment stretches out...and then she slowly pushes the backpack up onto the counter. "Nah, man, that stuff just tastes like dirty water. You go ahead." She flaps a hand at him. Don't hold back on her account, honest. Then she folds her arms across her chest and tilts her head to study him. Another moment passes--until, without warning, a huge grin appears. It exposes a slight gap between her front teeth, and shaves a few years off of the street-savvy grit she usually carries around with her. "It is kinda like cheating, huh? Must suck having to do everything by hand." Aloke nods, plugs in the hot pot and sets the box down next to it. There's a flicker of a smile when Shelby brightens, but he also knows he can't let her know what a success he considers this to be. "It's hard sometimes, yeah, but I think this is worth talking about. See, great art happens... with restrictions. Artists throughout history have put limits on themselves. Like, 'I'll only paint with red' or 'I'll only sculpt with my tools', no hands touch the surface." Aloke walks, taking a round a bout way to not spook Shelby, but is clearly approaching a covered, 2' by 3' frame. "I've tried different limits through my career, and each time, it made me better at freestyle painting." He pulls the cover off the frame to reveal an outstanding painting of a view of the lake on the school grounds. The morning light is pristine and sharp. It looks like a nymph could come walking out of the lake at any moment. "This is my latest attempt with oil paints. When we're done here, I'm gonna ask you to try a painting project /without/ using your talent. But for now, what would you add to this?" "I can totally do that," Shelby insists, only a slight huff to her voice. She's less insulted by the challenge and more bemused. "I mean, seriously. I did sidewalk chalk paintings for like, /years/. And you can't do shit with powers out there or people get bitchy and the tips dry up, y'know?" But color her intrigued by the invitation to tweak someone else's work. She deigns to remark, "Never did oil paints though, that stuff's expensive," before she bends forward, nose close to the canvas and eyes squinted narrowly to let her get a clear look of the image. "...you like the real looking stuff, huh? Me, I'd throw something in there. Kind've almost hidden, make people look for it, you know? Something /weird/. Like. Hide a rope ladder in the sunbeams or put a face under the water." Aloke stands back, letting Shelby get a close look without him in the way. "I want you to change this painting Shelby. It's mine, so you have my permission. I was in an awesome mood when I painted, and I think it shows. It's bright, happy, promising - if I say so myself." And really, he can. Someone with his experience, false modesty is almost more insulting than boastfulness. "I want you to, without adding a character, or actor - I want you to make it looks dangerous. Forboding. Change the nature of the painting. Do you understand what I mean?" Aloke is staring at the painting, but he is intently engaged in this conversation, and apparently really wants to see what she can do. Something about the way Shelby hesitates might give away the fact that she's not /quite/ as confident with the request as her bluster made it seem. The reason for that becomes clear a moment later--the teen can't inject something where there's nothing. To make the painting sinister--a simple task if she could just darken it up--she has to take color from somewhere else. And that requires concentration, as she wades in without a clear idea of what she's going to do. Finally, the surface begins to shift. That bright sky is leeched of color, retreating to a sickly grey-blue while she shifts the stolen shades to stuff it amongst the trees. No characters, no actors, just the impression of /something/ back there. "Excellent..." Aloke is whispering, with an intensity he's never had shouting. He blinks and sighs, and gets himself back into assessment mode. "Yeah, I can see what you did there. Shifting pigments. So look, there are things you can do with oil paints, with adding and subtracting color I mean, that you're not taking into account." He grabs a brush, and mixes some colors, the oils already fresh and ready to go. "Here, look... This is the same pigment from the sky, but when I add it to the bark of the trees and the leaves, they just get /dark/, because..." Aloke gives a brief explanation about the combination of pigment in this style, and then stands back. "Why don't you try again? I /like/ what you did with the sky. It's terrifying. But the woods... meh. I'd go in there. And I doubt there's a monster lurking under the lake." "I can't make new colors. I don't like, blend shit," Shelby explains, standing back while the professor bustles around and makes his explanation. "I can change stuff if it's already there but..." But. This is a challenge now and like hell she's going to let high class art get the better of her. Jaw set in bullish lines, Shelby bends close to the canvas again and /frowns/ at it. The changes this time are far more subtle, though there's a definite sense of movement. It's like watching a movie caught in freeze frame advance several frames ahead. Taking the monster under the lake advice to heart, the visible movement shapes that create the water effect begin to warp. Subtle, subtle. There's a slight wake appearing, white water froth pulled from the reflection of light on the surface, and whatever is /causing/ that wake is now advancing directly towards the viewer. "Fuck..." Aloke says, totally unaware of what just came out of his mouth. He takes another long moment just taking in the revised image. "Now /that/ is terrifying. Look what you did with the light the trees here. I mean, the lake is good, right? You knew that already. But look at the trees. Did you even /know/ you could do that? You pulled the darker shades /on top/ of the rest..." Aloke stands now, just staring, soaking up the piece. "We should enter this as a collaborative piece in the upcoming art show." Beat. "The /Manhattan/ art show." "I gotta take it from /somewhere/," Shelby pops back, sounding amused. Or maybe that's triumph? To have won obscenity from a teacher? She's certainly got the smug look firmly in place as she leans back and folds her arms across her chest again. That expression lasts until he mentions /the/ art show, which earns Aloke the satisfaction of a startled blink. Point to him, for coming up with something unexpected! "What, they do shit like that? Collaborative?" The bridge of her nose slowly wrinkles. "Nah, man. That'd never fly. I mean, I tried to check out something like that once and the assholes wouldn't let me stay." "Yeah," Aloke says, still distracted enough by the painting to not worry about his, or her cussing at this point. Finally he turns away, the light in his brown eyes bright, and shiny yellow. "Look Shel, it may shock you to learn this, but I actually know my way around an art show. And ok, you'll have to wear something a little... something /else/, I can get you in. And Yes, they have a collaborative portion of the show. Usually a whole hallway for team projects. I can get you in this show, but I can't enter it without your permission. What do you say?" Shelby's eyes flick back and forth. Painting to Aloke, Aloke to the painting. This time, her discomfort is more easily evident--hoity toity puts her off. So she temporizes, finding a way to put off the need for decision making. "So, like. Let's say I said yes and you put it in there and I dress up like a rich bitch for a day. What sorta prizes are we talking about?" Aloke puts on a fairly convincing, unconcerned face, peering out the window. He /might/ know something about getting teenagers' attention. Act like your bored! "Well, you'd get a plaque, just for placing. Top three will get a thing. Other than that, just the cash awards..." Aloke trails off and heads back to wear his hot pot is finally ready. Time to make tea! Plaque, ugh. A thing, boooring. Shelby makes faces for both of those. But Aloke is right in one thing--mention cash and her ears prick up like a cat's. She spares a last glance for the painting then fixes a look on the man's retreating back. Narrow-eyed and speculative, natch. "What /kind/ of cash award?" she demands. "I mean, this is high end shit, right? People walking around with sticks up their asses and their noses in the air, it's gotta be a /lot/ of money, right?" "Yeah, you know, on second thought, you're right. It probably wouldn't be worth it to enter. I mean, you have to get cleaned up, wear clean clothes, ride in a limo all the way to Manhattan, because I don't go to a show on the subway..." Aloke shakes his head, commiserating with the teen angst. "Look it up though. I'll go if you want to. It's the Contemporary Art Show at the Lignum Center. If the student in question were to, in fact, look up the art show in question, said student would probably quickly discover the 3rd, 2nd, and 1st place prizes to be $1000, $2500, and $5000, respectively. Probably not interesting at all. Speculative look transitions to something a little more suspicious. Perhaps Aloke is laying it on a little thick. Shelby eyes him for a moment then reaches for her back pocket to retrieve her handy dandy phone. No teenager worth their stripes leaves home without them these days. Her fingers fly over the screen, tap tap tap, and soon enough she's frowning at whatever information the screen is displaying. Right. Okay. The phone is tucked away and she reaches for the bag to sling it over her shoulder. "Go ahead and enter it," she says, so casually. "I mean, hell, it's worth a shot, right?" Grinning like a fiend, Aloke keeps his back to Shelby while she heads for the door, pretending to focus on his tea. "Sure, ok, Shelby. I'll enter it." He waits for her to get pretty close to the door and says, "Oh and Shelby... /Sign out/ the supplies in the future. They're /free/ to students, but we need to keep track of them. Have a good one." Yeah, that grin is going to be hard to get rid of.