Painter's Muse

Discussion in 'THREAD ARCHIVES' started by Sophia, Sep 6, 2013.

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  1. [​IMG]
    Anastasia Maleto looked down at the address on her piece of paper before raising a hand to knock at the door. "Hope this is the right place." It was a week ago she saw a flyer for someone needing a model, a painter. For awhile now she wanted to try something new and this was a step. Over the phone the guy sounded nice, but you can never tell.
    She waited patiently for the guy to answer the door and when she did a huge smile found her lips, "Hey! I'm Anastasia. I called you about needing a model. Am I early?" She was small and full of spunk, excited to be a model, a muse, anything to help an artist.
  2. [​IMG]The advertisements that Willem had painstakingly placed around the city, getting up in the early hours of the morning and returning exhausted midday to continue his work, had yet to pay off. More than a handful of young hopefuls had come knocking at his door with little in mind aside from lounging on couches while their form was immortalized and getting paid for it. This was not the attitude he was seeking, not by any means.

    When the knock at the door yanked Willem from his reverie by the window of his small loft, he couldn't help but feel a sense of dread. Another listless girl with too much makeup to see the face he wanted to paint standing at his door as though she expected a check up front, no doubt. He clucked his tongue but opened the door all the same.

    He was pleasantly surprised to encounter a small blond who looked excited, if not bare of makeup. If she had the right stuff, though, he reminded himself that he could always ask her to wash her face first. He needed to stop being so terribly, terribly picky if he was ever to find a girl that he could use as a model. The exuberance was promising, at least.

    "No, you're perfectly fine for time, don't fret at all. I had no prior engagements, so the time was more a matter of formality than strict guideline. Have you ever modeled before? For a painter, that is. Much different from a camera." He stroked his chin before stepping aside to allow her inside the loft. He glanced at the room, hoping it looked as welcoming as possible with the curtains thrown open to allow sunshine streaming into every nook.
    #2 Kitti, Sep 8, 2013
    Last edited by a moderator: Sep 8, 2013
  3. Blue eyes, covered in only in mascara and a thin layer of eyeliner, looked him over quickly before stepping inside. He seemed nice, not a sleazebag trying to get her naked and not for a painting. "Thank you. Oh um, no. I thought this be something interesting to try.. Unless you wanted someone experienced?" Biting her lower lip, a habit when nervous, she was hoping her not have experience would affect her chances.

    "I mean.. As long as you direct me I'm sure I'll do just fine. You are the artist." She said happily and a smile coming back to her lips. Nimble fingers brushing a few strands of hair from her cheek. "Now I wasn't sure exactly how you'd want to paint someone, so I wore a dress... Is that okay? If not I'm okay with being nude... Kinda." She bit her lip once more, she knew that being nude would be a possibility, but she had never been naked in front of anyone before.
  4. The girl looked so nervous and uncertain that Willem felt almost bad for whatever he had done, before remembering that he hadn't done anything. He shook his head at her, biting back a smile. Stepping away, content for now in his assessment that she could work well enough as a model, he looked down at her as kindly as possible.

    "Heavens, no. I don't want you nude. The dress is fine, I just want to paint a portrait of you. You'll have to wear the same thing, you know. Every time. And you can't cut your hair until I'm finished, you understand, right?" He was trying to keep his tone gentle, he didn't want to scare her away, but these were also important things that he needed of her. He waved her toward his couch, not yet ready to show her the room he'd partitioned off as a studio.

    The apartment itself seemed unassuming from the outside but the inside was surprisingly luxurious. The furniture was comfortable and matched with lively little plants blooming here and there on end tables and hung from the ceiling. Large windows let in a flood of light and the entire place smelled of tea. The area reflected the man standing in an almost awkwardly eager fashion in front of her, hoping she felt comfortable.

    "Your name... it's Anastasia, correct?"
  5. She gave a nod with each instruction, "I understand completely." Removing her jacket to reveal her royal blue sundress with a thin black belt she smiled, "Yes, Anastasia. My mom was a Russia nut around the time I was born." Looking around she turned slowly in a circle as she walked, being careful not to bump into him or any other furniture. "Wow, I really like your place. Its very nice. Must it fun to work from home. Is it?" Turning all the way back around to face him, nibbling her bottom lip for a second before sitting down, "So do you want me to just sit here and pose? Or just paint me doing something random?"
  6. The girl seemed inexperienced and uncertain with the process, something that Willem hoped would not impede the progress of the art. The lighting of the room would lend itself well to sketching her, though, and it was an opportunity he would gladly take to get acquainted with her appearance.

    Standing, Willem offered no explanation as to where he was going and instead disappeared through a door. The studio within was, for now, off limits to the girl but was where he kept the supplies with which he would draw her. Two thick pads of paper were gathered, along with various media from charcoal to pens and pastels. This was the preliminary work for him, quick sketchings of her features and a study of the shadows and colors as the played with the light.

    As quickly as he could, discouraging Anastasia's ability to follow him, Willem brought the supplies back to the couch where she sat. Not given to much conversation, he pulled a spindly black stool from his kitchen and sat on it in front of her. His brow furrowed as he began the first strokes with charcoal and a rough form of a woman began to emerge even as his fingers darkened from drawing. Not a full minute later, he ripped away the piece of paper, crumpled it up, and threw it at a nearby wastebin.

    "I will need time. Would you like anything before I begin in earnest? Water, something to eat?"
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