The Eyes Of An Artist

Chapter 4

I was never actually into painting. I loved to see what an artist could do, how someone could bring life to a mixture of colours by giving them a body and face, a story that you could understand with only a glimpse. But I never saw myself as a true artist, I always felt like I had to improve and better my skills before I could say anything about myself.

The first class was on Wednesday and it was raining. The sky was gray and I felt free. The wind touched my skin, it made me forget all the things that I had to do and I felt so alive suddenly. I was on my way to the apartment of a painter that a friend of mom recomended me. She told me that this woman had an amazing ability and that she taught things in a very simple way. I was wondering how this woman looked like... I had always thought that artists were very strange. They seemed to have a different perception of everything and that way of seeing things so differently was a gift but also a curse to me... It seemed as if they felt alone and their art was a way of trying to be understood by the others.

I finally arived to the entrance of the tall building and felt like I was going to any other building. It had nothing different and suddenly I felt for some seconds a little sadness in my chest, in my body. Was this going to be more of what I was used to seeing every other day? Another thing that "I had" to do and not something that I actually wanted to do.
I pressed the intercome button and there was no response. My heart felt heavy suddenly, I didn't know why. I felt like I was searching for something and that it just kept running away from me. I stood there against the wall and stared into the street. The rain falling, cars moving, people walking lost in their minds. Suddenly I felt something that stung me, as if someone had stabbed me in the center of my chest with some sharp object. I felt loneliness and didn't understand why. I had friends, Thomas, my family... But I still felt lonely. And then I closed my eyes, took a breath of cold air and remembered that I was with me, not completely alone. That moment felt special and the rest of the world lost its weight.

- Hello, who is there? - said a voice that came from the electronic entry phone that was on the wall were I was resting. It was the woman speaking, her voice sounded agitaded, busy.
- Oh, hello! It's Hannah - I said a little nervous.
- Oh yes, now I remember! Helen told me you were coming. She told me you're the daughter of one of her friends and that you'd come and try today. I'll be there in a second - she said and before I could say anything I heard how she hung up.

I waited and felt the heat in my skin and face... I wondered how she looked like, if she was kind and friendly or cold and structered without any emotion.
I started playing with my fingers while I tried to think of other things and not of whatever was making me feel so anxious.

I heard a key unlocking the door behind me. Its sound didn't surprise me but there was something to it that made me feel intimidated.
I turned around and saw a woman with blonde hair, it was a little messy but pretty at the same time. It looked natural like that. Her face had a certain glow and her eyes were pale blue. She looked like she was around forty something years old.
I looked at her and was surprised, I actually expected a more "crazy looking" person. I had this idea of painters, this thought of them being very...strange. But she seemed normal to me, there was nothing very different to her.
But then I saw it...just for a split second before she spoke. I saw that little spark in her eyes, it had nothing to do with their shape or colour, it was something that lived within them. I could see this need in them, a need to give something from the inside to the world, a need to speak and give. I asked myself if all artists had that look in their eyes or it was just her.

- Hello, I'm Beatrice. And your name is? - her voice sounded rough in comparisson to the round edges of her face and the femenine clothes she was wearing. I remembered that I had already said my name to her through the electronic entry phone and I thought to myself that she had bad memory or that she was very busy and my name had no importance to her.
- Hannah - I said. I was surprised when I heard how I said my name, with a tone of offense.
- Oh yes! You told me...my busy mind made me forget. Follow me young lady, the class is about to begin - she said walking away from me and towards the antique elevater.

She had a strange way of walking. Her steps were short and a little clumbsy and she didn't look as femenine as she did when she was standing still. I thought to myself that even the way we walk speaks a little of who we are.

We stood still and waited for the elevater. A long heavy silence fell between us and I could listen to my breathing and each time that I swallowed too. It felt so uncomfortable until I looked at her and I could tell that she was thinking of something that had nothing to do with the present moment. So I relaxed and thought that I didn't have to really care about anything in that moment.

It finnally arrived and she let me pass first. While it was going up she looked at my hands without saying anything.
- Any painters in your family? - she asked without looking at my eyes and still focused on whatever made my hands so intresting.
- No...nobody paints in my family - I answered.
- Well, we'll have to start from zero - she said. Something from that response made me feel a little annoyed but I didn't say anything.

The elevator stopped at the ninth floor and she stepped out quickly.
- Let's hurry, everyone else is waiting - she said to me.
I asked myself how many people took classes with her, if they were young, middle aged, old... I was curious.
We made it to the tall door of her apartment that she opened with a strange old looking key.

The light inside was dim and there was this dark red carpet on the floor that covered almost every part of the wooden floor.
I followed her until we made it to a large room with a huge table in the center. It was covered with paint brushes, canvas fabric, news papers, paint jars, pencil sketches, pannels and a lot more of painting supplies.
And their were around six students sitting at the table. 

- Hello ladies! This is Hannah! - said Beatrice. I felt my face turn red and the heat started running all over my skin. I have no idea of why I had this reaction... So many eyes set on me made me blush and I wanted to leave.
I looked at the women, one by one. There was a mixture of ages... On the left side of the table sat three women. They all had different hair colours and strange expressions.
The two on the left side of the table who were closest to me seemed to be around thirty years old. And the third woman looked older, as if she was fifty or more.

On the other side of the table sat three younger looking students. The oldest one looked like she was twenty five and the other two looked just a year or two older than me.
- All women... This is going to be boring - I thought to myself.

- How old are you? - asked Beatrice. I was wandering in my thoughts until I heard her question.
- Twenty one - I said, barely recognizing the sound of my own voice.
- Oh, you're so young - said the oldest student.
I didn't know what to respond so I gave her a polite smile.

- Here...let's give this lady a seat - said Beatrice, pulling back the chair that was in the head of the table.
- Sit, please... You ladies, get back to whatever you were doing, I'm going to guide this one - she said looking at me with her cold blue eyes.