Eirik himself was under, and in the middle of, three curving silver poles that were attached to the wall above him at one point. They bent up and out, separated from one another, then came back down and in, toward his feet. His feet were surrounded by silver metal scraps, heaps of metal chains, ridiculous lengths of both white and silver-painted telephone cord, and many branches, also painted silver. The wall was covered in loops and bolts, and Ludwig saw that Eirik’s foot was already attached to one. He was diligently chaining himself up, winding it around his leg, then wound the chain up one of the poles, building up the structure around him - he was mindful about the delay pedal by his free foot - actually, he seemed to be very mindful about the entire process. What a serious kid.
A small group had already begun to help him, grabbing things from the pile on the floor and weaving them in and out of what was already there - an odd bird’s nest of frayed metal. Once in a while, Eirik would pull back, hum something into the mic, and loop it - the further along the structure got, the more his eerie voice echoed softly through the gallery space.
Alfred’s enthusiastic greeting to Tina and her boyfriend tore him from his observations - he turned to watch the three instead. The boyfriend stood and tried to fit a word or two into the conversation, and they would include him for a moment - then get excited about something else and the topic would fly off to five other places before settling again, but only for a minute. He obviously couldn’t keep up.
Ludwig smiled to himself. He couldn’t blame the poor man. Some people never learned how to handle the human bottle rocket that was Alfred. It seemed as though Tina was doing perfectly fine, though. Hm.
---
Francis and Mathias stood before a painting near the front of the gallery. Sadiq and Antonio came with them, but they got bored staring at canvases and were now busy mingling, watching, helping the performance piece, and going to the back to get free wine. Feli bounded up to Francis and wrapped him in a hug, then did the same to Mathias, who didn’t even know her, really.
“Feli, I have a question about this collection,” Francis began, gaze on the nearby painting once more. “Your compositions are usually much more dynamic - and have much more vivid hues - these...these are so austere.”
She looked at him, mouth open to reply, but saw he was still thinking. She liked hearing Francis’ thoughts on her paintings; she waited, bounced on the balls of her feet with a smile.
“Hm, well, no....I’m not sure that austere is the right word, precisely - there is still a brightness here, peeking - or, no, perhaps it is tearing?”
“Showing?” she interjected, laughing. Sometimes simpler words were easier. Francis thought too much.
“I suppose that will have to do,” he frowned. “But, yes - a brightness showing through the subdued tones. But...the overall effect...I suppose it is austere. Ah, somber,” he snapped, finding the word he wanted. He turned to her. “I do not think I’ve seen you create a somber painting, dear.”
“Mm, well, I decided that since Eirik was gonna perform here, I’d paint him!”
“You mean,” Mathias cut in, frowning, “you decided to paint things to go with his show?” He took a drink of his wine; Francis and Feli gave him lost looks. “These aren’t portraits are they?” he asked, cocking his head to the side. Feli looked a little concerned.
Francis turned and watched Eirik. He was slowly, ritually, reverently chaining himself in. Francis nodded - he saw. “No, no dear, you have captured him perfectly,” he reassured her. He looked at the painting nearby again - the same, the two were the same. Haunting, exquisite, desolate. Rough and elegant. They gave off a calm impression at first, but when you looked -
He turned back to watch Eirik again, along with Feli. “It’s all about the eyes and the movements, isn’t it?” he asked her.
LATFF [9j/15]
A small group had already begun to help him, grabbing things from the pile on the floor and weaving them in and out of what was already there - an odd bird’s nest of frayed metal. Once in a while, Eirik would pull back, hum something into the mic, and loop it - the further along the structure got, the more his eerie voice echoed softly through the gallery space.
Alfred’s enthusiastic greeting to Tina and her boyfriend tore him from his observations - he turned to watch the three instead. The boyfriend stood and tried to fit a word or two into the conversation, and they would include him for a moment - then get excited about something else and the topic would fly off to five other places before settling again, but only for a minute. He obviously couldn’t keep up.
Ludwig smiled to himself. He couldn’t blame the poor man. Some people never learned how to handle the human bottle rocket that was Alfred. It seemed as though Tina was doing perfectly fine, though. Hm.
---
Francis and Mathias stood before a painting near the front of the gallery. Sadiq and Antonio came with them, but they got bored staring at canvases and were now busy mingling, watching, helping the performance piece, and going to the back to get free wine. Feli bounded up to Francis and wrapped him in a hug, then did the same to Mathias, who didn’t even know her, really.
“Feli, I have a question about this collection,” Francis began, gaze on the nearby painting once more. “Your compositions are usually much more dynamic - and have much more vivid hues - these...these are so austere.”
She looked at him, mouth open to reply, but saw he was still thinking. She liked hearing Francis’ thoughts on her paintings; she waited, bounced on the balls of her feet with a smile.
“Hm, well, no....I’m not sure that austere is the right word, precisely - there is still a brightness here, peeking - or, no, perhaps it is tearing?”
“Showing?” she interjected, laughing. Sometimes simpler words were easier. Francis thought too much.
“I suppose that will have to do,” he frowned. “But, yes - a brightness showing through the subdued tones. But...the overall effect...I suppose it is austere. Ah, somber,” he snapped, finding the word he wanted. He turned to her. “I do not think I’ve seen you create a somber painting, dear.”
“Mm, well, I decided that since Eirik was gonna perform here, I’d paint him!”
“You mean,” Mathias cut in, frowning, “you decided to paint things to go with his show?” He took a drink of his wine; Francis and Feli gave him lost looks. “These aren’t portraits are they?” he asked, cocking his head to the side. Feli looked a little concerned.
Francis turned and watched Eirik. He was slowly, ritually, reverently chaining himself in. Francis nodded - he saw. “No, no dear, you have captured him perfectly,” he reassured her. He looked at the painting nearby again - the same, the two were the same. Haunting, exquisite, desolate. Rough and elegant. They gave off a calm impression at first, but when you looked -
He turned back to watch Eirik again, along with Feli. “It’s all about the eyes and the movements, isn’t it?” he asked her.