“So they don't just paint puppy dogs or splotches?”
“Ugh, modern abstract art.” I rolled my eyes.
“Hold on. You're an artist who owns a gallery, but you don't like modern art?”
“I'm a person. As I just said, art is subjective. I have my likes and dislikes. One of my greatest dislikes is modern abstract art. Frankly, I'm not a huge fan of the old stuff either. I mean, I get it with van Gogh, but I still don't like it.”
“Me either.” He grimaced. “All those weird faces. But the paint splatters are the worst. I truly don't understand how that's art.”
“I don't appreciate that crap either. I took an art class once because I wanted to see if I could learn better techniques. The teacher told me that I had to learn how to paint realistically first, so that I could surpass that and go abstract later. Know the rules to break them.”
Rune snorted.
“Yes, I felt the same. But it did make me realize something.”
“What's that?”
“Art cannot be taught. Use of the tools can be. People can show you how paint should be laid so it won't crack, how to prepare canvases properly, and how certain media is best employed. They can show you what the tools can do—how certain paintbrushes give different results. They can even teach you about things like perspective, shading, and the Golden Triangle. But the talent to create art, a person'screativity—that can't be taught. And true talent doesn't need to know how to use tools. Give a really talented artist any medium, and they will craft something spectacular. Sometimes it's even more spectacular because they aren't hindered by what someone has told them. True talent comes from the soul, not the mind.”
“Damn, woman. You just gave me the shivers.”
I giggled. “It's the ice cream and the air conditioning.”
“No, sweetheart, it's you,” he whispered.
I stared at Rune for a second before going back to my ice cream.
“True talent comes from the soul,” Rune murmured. “I think that goes for every talent. There was that paraplegic guy who could only move his toe, or something like that, and he wrote novels.”
“There was a paraplegic artist too,” I said. “But I mean, what else are they going to do, just sitting around all day.”
Rune gaped at me.
“Oh, fuck!” I exclaimed and clapped a hand over my mouth. “That was bad, wasn't it? I shouldn't have said that.”
He burst out laughing. “You better watch what you say. These days, you'll get canceled for a slip of the tongue.”
A slip of the tongue. Damn it, now I'm shivering.
“Oh, I know. I made the mistake of sticking up for J.K. Rowling once.” I grimaced at him.
“Dear Gods!” Rune exclaimed. “I'm surprised they didn't bomb your gallery.”
“It wasn't pretty.”
I stared at him grimly for a few seconds and then we burst out laughing together.
“All right, then. Where's the good in cancel culture?” he asked.
I thought about it. “It's an improvement.”
“An improvement on what?”
“War. Hatred. Racism. People have had enough of that shit. So they've taken things to the opposite extreme. It's a good start. Their hearts are also in the right place. They just don't realize that focusing on bad things only makes them grow larger. They've gotten overly sensitive and even cruel in their quest to do the right thing.”
The crusader came to mind then, his zeal radiating from the canvas. He believed he was doing the right thing too. He had great faith in it. But the truth was, he was killing people for having a different opinion. At its foundation, this new idea was similar but far superior. A step in the right direction. A less bloody battle. If only people could get over the need to be right and push their rightness on everyone else. Maybe that's where we were headed. Baby steps.
“I have hope that they'll learn,” I went on. “It's inevitable. Evolution of the species. It never stops. They keep reaching for better, and they've already come so far.” I smiled softly. “The human race astounds me sometimes.”
