The Judgment – A Short Story

 

Prologue

Beatrice was raised by a very judgmental mother who didn’t like her much.

 

The Loudmouth

 

 

Chapter One

Beatrice saw the mother and daughter on the street outside of gallery as she went up the steps.  As she juggled her keys and coffee to unlock the door she hoped they would move along soon.

It wasn’t that cold out but it had been cold overnight and they were both barefoot. Their shoes had been stolen at the homeless shelter the night before.  The mother, named Emily, was hoping the shelter would have extra shoes, but they did not.   She had come downtown hoping the church caring center would have some and was waiting for it to open.  She stopped in front of the gallery because there was a ledge just the right height for her daughter to sit on with her doll.  Her daughter, named Cerise, had to go to the bathroom very badly.  The mother was hoping she could wait until the caring center was open but it looked like she might not be able to.  She finally decided she had to go into the gallery to see if they had a bathroom.

Beatrice heard the door open while she was in the back turning on the computer in the office.  When she went out and saw it was the mother and daughter she rolled her eyes, sighed heavily and went up front to confront them.  “Yes, may I help you?” She asked.

Emily said, “We are waiting for the church caring center to open down the street but my daughter really has to go to the bathroom. Would you mind if she used yours, please?”

Beatrice said, “Yes, she may, but make it quick.”  She walked towards the back, sweeping her arm behind her indicating for them to follow. She pointed to a small door and said, “There, please be quick and clean up after.”

Cerise was quick and did clean up after.  Emily thanked Beatrice and started to walk back to the front to go out.  Beatrice stopped her with a hand on her shoulder and said, “Hold on a minute.  I really have to say I am bothered by you allowing your daughter being barefoot in the city like that, not to mention yourself.  It’s dangerous on the sidewalks with trash and glass and all sorts of things.  Why are you barefoot?”

Emily explained about the shoes being stolen.  Beatrice said, “But why did you allow them to be stolen? Why weren’t they on your feet? Why were you at a homeless shelter in the first place? Your child is very young, you should take better care of her.”

Emily by this time was holding Cerise close. Cerise in turn was holding her doll even closer.  Emily said, “Yes, you are right. I wish I had taken better care of her.  Thank you for letting us use the bathroom. We won’t bother you again.”

Beatrice said, “I hope you don’t and I hope you get your act together. It’s not good for her.”

Chapter Two

Emily and Cerise went outside and down the street to the Church Caring Center.  It had opened and it turned out they did have shoes they could have, along with socks and sweaters for both of them.  Cerise had been crying about the lady in the gallery.  She asked her mom, “Why was that lady so mean? She really scared me.  You should have told her the whole story, then maybe she wouldn’t have been so mean.”

Emily responded, “You know Cerise, sometimes it really doesn’t matter if someone knows the whole story. They need to judge and so they will judge, no matter what.  You and I know the story and we both know why we were at the homeless shelter.  We know what we are doing and why.  That is what matters.”

Beatrice told the story of the homeless mother and daughter to five different friends over the course of the day. Four of the friends agreed that the homeless mother was bad and that the daughter should be taken from her and put in protective custody. The fifth friend, a wealthy gallery patron named Jill, told Beatrice she thought she had treated them badly. She said what they needed was kindness, not judgment.

Beatrice was rather taken aback by this and asked why she was making such a big deal about it.  Jill said, “I once was homeless when I was quite young and people treated me the same way.  I already knew all the negative things about myself and how I had ended up homeless, I didn’t need other people telling me the same thing. What I needed was help and understanding.  Luckily for me I got that help, and ironically it was actually from a gallery dealer in Los Angeles.  Without his understanding and help I never would have gotten out of the jam I was in.”

Chapter Three

A few weeks later Emily and Cerise were in the same gallery neighborhood again.  This time they had shoes on.  Emily had gotten a part-time job at a coffee shop about a block from the gallery. The coffee shop owner had said Cerise could stay there as long as she didn’t bother her mother too much while she was on duty. It would only be for a few more weeks then school would start again for the fall and Cerise wouldn’t have to be there during the day.  Cerise sat at a little table near the window and drew in the sketchbook they had given her at the Church Caring Center a few weeks before.

Beatrice usually came to the coffee shop around 9:30 am, right before she went to open the gallery.  This day she saw a little girl through the window as she approached. As she walked past she bent down, pointed at the drawing and said, “You are a very good artist. Keep at it and one day you might be famous, who knows!”  Cerise looked up and recognized the woman as the mean person from a few weeks prior, but Beatrice did not recognize Cerise.  But when she came to the counter she most definitely did recognize Cerise’s mother, Emily. She remembered the green eyes, the strong eyeliner and the red hair up in a bun.  Emily recognized Beatrice as well.  They stared at each other for a moment.  Beatrice could feel her cheeks flushing with blood.

Emily asked, “Hello, what may I get for you today?”

Beatrice answered, “Um…I will have…um….I will have a large Cafe Mocha please.”

Emily said, “Will that be all?”

Beatrice answered, “Yes.  Um….you were in my gallery last week, right?”

Emily responded, “Yes. My daughter used the bathroom. Thank you for allowing that.”

Beatrice said, “Um….yes. No problem. Anytime.” She felt particularly stupid after saying that.

Emily said.  “Your drink will be ready over to the left. It should be just a minute.”

Beatrice moved over to the counter at the left.  She picked up her drink and was on her way out when she returned to Emily.  She said, “I am sorry for the attitude I had that day. It was mean and judgmental and I regret it.”

Beatrice looked up from ringing something up in the cash register.  “I appreciate that. We are used to that attitude, you aren’t alone.  But you are the only person who’s ever apologized to me for it. That means a lot. Thank you.”

Beatrice asked,  “Where is your daughter?”

Emily pointed to the front and said, “You already talked to her, she is the little girl at the window over there.”

Beatrice Asked Emily her name and the name of her daughter. She shook Emily’s hand, said her apology again and walked over the Cerise.  She kneeled down to Cerise’s level, forgetting that her skirt was short and was probably exposing too much, and said, “Cerise, my name is Beatrice. I own the gallery that you came into last week to go to the bathroom.  I remember being mean to your mother and you and I should not have been like that. I wanted to come over and apologize to you.  Will you forgive me?”

Cerise said, “Yes, I will. Mom says when someone treats us mean it usually means something is hurting inside them and that we should hope that hurt goes away for them instead of us feeling hurt about what they said.”

Beatrice stared at Cerise.  She couldn’t talk for a moment. Finally, as tears started to gather in her eyes, said, “Yes, your mother is a very wise woman. She is right. It is much more about my hurt than anything about you.  Once again, I am sorry and I hope you won’t hold it against me.”

Cerise said, “I won’t, I promise.  By the way, thank you for saying you liked my drawing when you came in. That made me happy.  I am not very good yet but I like drawing so I do it anyway.”

Beatrice said, “You are better than you think you are, I can tell you that much.”

Beatrice left, crying.

Chapter Four

Two days later Beatrice went back in the coffee shop and saw Cerise and Emily again.  She asked Emily if it would be ok if some days Cerise spent her time at the gallery instead of the coffee shop.  Emily said it was ok with her if it was ok with Cerise. Beatrice went over to Cerise and asked, “Cerise, I had an idea last night. Would you be willing to spend a bit of your time during the day at my gallery instead of here?  You can still draw of course. But you can do other things there too, maybe even help me with some stuff.  And we do have a cool cat that needs some company.”

Cerise looked over at her mother who nodded her ok. Cerise smiled and said, “Yes, that might be fun.”

Cerise spent an hour or so each day at the gallery for the remainder of the summer. She drew a lot, often drawing the cat sleeping in the sun. She also learned how to hammer a nail, cut a mat, wire a frame and paint pedestals.  As the end of summer approached Beatrice’s assistant announced she was pregnant and going to be moving the the suburbs with her husband, who was taking a job in Greenwich.

Beatrice offered the assistant job to Emily, who accepted.  

Epilogue

That was five years ago.  Beatrice has since opened a second gallery uptown.  Emily is in charge of the downtown gallery and is making quite a name for herself as an astute judge of talent and an excellent curator.  Cerise is just entering high school and has decided to major in art when she goes to college.

Beatrice keeps in contact with her friend Jill, who is also great friends with Emily and Cerise.  Beatrice has no idea what ever happened to her other four friends.

The End

 

 

 

Museum Compositions – Anonymous Eyes

Yesterday I posted a drawing and 2 photos from my foray into the Dallas Museum of Art’s ‘Bouquet’ exhibition over the Thanksgiving weekend, 2014.

There were other temporary exhibitions as well. One was a retrospective of Modernist Jewelry created by Art Smith.  I honestly was more interested in the photographs of the models wearing the jewelry, most seeming to be from the 50s and 60s.  The photographers were listed as ‘Unknown Photographer’ in all the photos, though one actually did have a last name written on it. It’s a relatively rare occurrence when something on a museum wall from the last 100 years is attributed to ‘Anonymous’ .  The names of models in old paintings are often lost in time, but that is usually not the case with more contemporary portrait muses.  But these were photos focused on the jewelry, not the photographer or model, and at least the Jewelry designer was known, right?  Still, I felt bad for the photographer and models lost in time.  I did however like the word play that immediately appeared in my head; I was taking photographs of photographs taken by unknown photographers of anonymous models.  

I took a few pics with my regular camera then decided to take one with my cell phone so I could post it if I later wanted to.  When I did that I happened to catch a reflected light in the eye of one of the model photos. That led me on a search for more reflected lights in the eyes.  I spent minutes at a time trying to get the reflection to be just right. It was a fun and exacting effort.  The other people in the gallery definitely were wondering why I was holding up a little old cell phone so long in one position, that was obvious!  

Here are a few of my favorites from my effort.

 

 Museum Composition - Anonymous Eyes #1

Museum Composition – Anonymous Eyes #1

 

 

Museum Composition - Anonymous Eyes #2

Museum Composition – Anonymous Eyes #2

 

 

Museum Composition - Anonymous Eyes #3

Museum Composition – Anonymous Eyes #3

 

 

Museum Composition - Anonymous Eyes #4

Museum Composition – Anonymous Eyes #4

 

After I took the pics I wandered around looking at the actual jewelry in the cases and, as you can see from the photos, they were incredible.

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Here are more ‘Museum Compositions’ posts

Museum Compositions – June 2013

Museum as Muse – Dallas Museum of Art – July 2013

Bouquets in Dallas – Dallas Museum of Art – November 2014

Anonymous Eyes – Dallas Museum of Art – November 2014

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Photographs and writing by Marty Coleman © 2015

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Museum Compositions – Bouquets in Dallas

 

Dallas Museum of Art

 

Over the Thanksgiving weekend we were down in Dallas visiting our daughter, Caitlin.  We went to see the Dallas Cowboys play on Thursday, had Thanksgiving dinner after that and then spent the rest of the weekend just enjoying ourselves.  On Friday Linda and Caitlin went shopping and I went to one of my favorite museums, the Dallas Museum of Art.  I’ve been there 3 times now I think. It’s a large museum with an extensive permanent collection in all the major areas of art.  It also has rotating exhibitions, usually at least 3-4 at a time.  This time the major show was ‘Bouquets’.  That means it was paintings of flowers.  Not my favorite genre.  It could even be my least favorite genre actually.  

I knew this in advance and was thinking of going to the outdoor Sculpture Museum across the street instead but for some reason I forget now, maybe it was cold or rainy, I opted to go to the Museum anyway. I had my camera with me and figured at least I would be able to work on my ongoing ‘Museum Compositions’ series.  I also knew that the exhibition had at least one Matisse painting in it so it couldn’t be all bad.

One of the good things about the DMA is they allow photography (without flash) everywhere, even special exhibitions.  Most museums allow photography but not in the temporary exhibitions.  Some, like the Gilcrease Museum in Tulsa, don’t allow any photography at all.  So, I went traipsing around the museum and took some photos.  


Drawing

I also did a drawing while I was there.  It wasn’t in my sketchbook but rather in a gallery in the Bouquet’ exhibition where they had an actual bouquet of flowers for people to draw. They had paper and pencils and places to sit.  I had a pen with me, the type I use in my sketchbook, so I used that on one of their pieces of paper to capture the scene.  There was a place to put up your art work once you were finished but I didn’t want to let go of mine.  I rolled it up and brought it home thinking I might color it later on.  It got hidden in a bag I brought home and I didn’t find it again until last week right before my road trip to Virginia.

One of my goals for 2015 is to follow through on more of my artwork so I figured I needed to scan the drawing and put it out there before it got forgotten.

 

Bouquets in Dallas

A drawing of someone drawing flowers in an exhibition of paintings of flowers at the Dallas Museum of Art.


Photographs

I didn’t capture many shots I liked but here are two I think stood out.

Museum Composition - Bouquet #1

Museum Composition – Bouquet #1

This is one of the favorite ‘Museum Compositions’ images I’ve taken.  The pose this woman unconsciously struck as she looked at the painting was exquisite and I quickly got off 3-4 photos of her standing there.   I later went up to her and asked her if she was a dancer since the pose looks so much like one a dancer would strike. She said she wasn’t and I told her she sure had the posture of one. She took it as a very nice compliment and I was happy about that.

Museum Composition - Bouquet #2

Museum Composition – Bouquet #2

I like the color combinations in this one and I especially like the interaction between the two people. 

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Here are more ‘Museum Compositions’ posts

Museum Compositions – June 2013

Museum as Muse – Dallas Museum of Art – July 2013

Bouquets in Dallas – Dallas Museum of Art – November 2014

Anonymous Eyes – Dallas Museum of Art – November 2014

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Photographs and drawings © 2017 Marty Coleman | napkindad.com

Never – A Short Short Story

 

Prologue

Millicent had never been the subject of a short story before. She had been mentioned in a weird poem her 10th grade boyfriend had written for her when he was high on pot, but never a short story.

 

The Interpreter - Gallery #4

 

Chapter One

Millicent had never been in an art gallery before.  She did go into one with her father in Sausalito when she was 11 and stole a pair of earrings, but never as an adult.

Chapter Two

Millicent was hired at the last minute to sub for Berthe, who had come down with Shingles and couldn’t work. She had subbed last minute plenty of times for Sid the alcoholic, but never for Berthe. 

Chapter Three

Millicent had never seen a painting of a naked person in person before.  She had seen pictures years ago in some dirty magazines her brother had, but never a painting.

Chapter Four

Millicent had never worn stripes and polka dots together to work before.  She had worn stripes and paisley together once to her husband’s Christmas office party where she drank too much Vodka, but never stripes and polka dots.

Chapter Five

Millicent had never taken the N Judah trolley to the end of the line before.  She had taken the M Owl all the way to the end before, when she was depressed about her oldest son being caught putting on her makeup, but never the N Judah.

Chapter Six

Millicent had never had to actually interpret the word ‘breast’ in public before. She had to sign ‘butt’ plenty of times, but never the word ‘breast’.

Chapter Seven

Millicent had never eaten Sushi before but that is where the class went after the gallery.  She had eaten raw chicken once and got sick, but never fish.

Chapter Eight 

Millicent had never worn salmon colored eyeshadow before but got some for Christmas and decided to try it. She had worn peach colored eyeshadow before, but never salmon.

Chapter Nine

Millicent had never contemplated divorce before but she saw her husband with a big busted blonde in a Starbucks across the street from the gallery as they walked in.  She had contemplated killing him before, but never divorce.

Epilogue

Millicent divorced her husband, wore salmon colored eyeshadow every day, gave her peach colored eyeshadow to her son, got a fish tank, wore stripes and polka dots together often and started painting for fun.  Her best friend Geraldo even posed for her naked once.

The End

Merry And Happy May You Be

Merry and Happy

Merry |ˈmerē|

adjective ( merrier , merriest )

cheerful and lively : the narrow streets were dense with merry throngs of students | a merry grin.

(of an occasion or season) characterized by festivity and rejoicing : he wished me a merry Christmas.

[ predic. ] Brit., informal slightly and good-humoredly drunk : after the third bottle of beer he began to feel quite merry.

PHRASES

go on one’s merry way informal carry on with a course of action regardless of the consequences.

make merry enjoy oneself with others, esp. by dancing and drinking.

the more the merrier the more people or things there are, the better or more enjoyable a situation will be.

DERIVATIVES

merriness noun

ORIGIN Old English myrige [pleasing, delightful,] of Germanic origin; related to mirth .

Happy |ˈhapē|

adjective ( -pier , -piest )

1 feeling or showing pleasure or contentment : Melissa came in looking happy and excited | [with clause ] we’re just happy that he’s still alive | [with infinitive ] they are happy to see me doing well.

[ predic. ] ( happy about) having a sense of confidence in or satisfaction with (a person, arrangement, or situation) : I was never very happy about the explanation | I can’t say they looked too happy about it, but a deal’s a deal.

[ predic. ] ( happy with) satisfied with the quality or standard of : I’m happy with his performance.

[with infinitive ] willing to do something : we will be happy to advise you.

(of an event or situation) characterized by happiness : we had a very happy, relaxed time.

[ attrib. ] used in greetings : happy birthday.

[ attrib. ] fortunate and convenient : he had the happy knack of making people like him.

2 [in combination ] informal inclined to use a specified thing excessively or at random : our litigation-happy society.

PHRASES

( as) happy as a clam ( at high tide) extremely happy.

happy hunting ground a place where success or enjoyment is obtained. [ORIGIN: originally referring to the optimistic hope of American Indians for good hunting grounds in the afterlife.]

DERIVATIVES

happiness noun

ORIGIN Middle English (in the sense [lucky] ): from the noun hap + -y 1 .

Yes, this is what I hope for you.

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Drawing by Marty Coleman

Definitions by us all

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