Madame Artemis

-Madame Artemis? -

I asked in a

gentle tone.

-Yes, dear.

That's me. -

The lady

sitting in front of an unfinished painting. She turned around and I was shocked

to see that she was blind.

-I...You're...-

-Blind? Yes,

my dear. I am. But even though I cannot see the way you do, I can indeed see. -

She smiled

at me and said:

-Why don't

we take this outside, darling? It's a beautiful day, today. -

I looked

outside the window and saw that a storm was brewing on the horizon and said:

-But,

madame, there's a storm coming. It's cloudy and it's a bit cold outside. -

However, as

she stood up and grabbed her cane, she answered:

-Oh, my

dear. The little glimmers of light always shine brighter in the dark. Come.

Come. -

A gentleman

opened the door for us and we walked outside. Her beautiful garden was bigger

than a parking lot downtown and it was full of life and color. Roses, tulips,

and many different flowers decorated the garden and in the middle, the biggest

apple tree I had ever seen. I saw everything for a moment and suddenly, the Sun

broke through the cloudy sky and sunbeams lit the garden. I stood in shock as I

realized what I saw.

-This...this

is...-

-The Elysium

of Artemis. Yes. The first paint I ever sold. Ha! I'm glad you noticed. Damien

there took 15 years to notice the resemblance. 15! Imagine my shock when he

told me it looked "a bit like..."-

There was a

little summer table with an umbrella under the tree where we sat down. I took a

moment to see Artemis. An old lady in her late 80's. Wrinkled arms and face.

She was really short and quite chubby. Her hair was completely white and she

laughed like coughing and squeaking at the same time. She was wearing a red

hood sweater that was bigger than her and she dragged a bit of it around.

-Don't

stare, darling. It's not polite. -

-Oh, I'm

sorry, I didn't mean to. -

Artemis

lifted her hand stopping me mid-sentence and said:

-It's ok,

child. Now. You said you wanted an interview, didn't you? Well...I'm all yours.

–

-Oh! Yes. Thank you very much for this opportunity, Madame. I…You don’t know the honor this is for me. –

Her butler, Demien brought up some cookies and tea for the both of us as I pulled my notebook and said:

-Ok. First off. Thank you very much for allowing me this interview, Madame. It’s your first interview ever and I am honored to be the one doing it.

So, for starters. Why now? You declined interviews for 70 years and you accepted mine. Why was that? –

Artemis took a sip of her tea and sighed:

-Because I saw something in you, I saw in me when I was your age. Metaphorically speaking, of course. Haha. When you called, as soon as I heard your voice, I knew you were something special. Something you don’t find often. Like a shooting star. You see one or two in your lifetime only. That’s why. –

-And what is that, may I ask? –

Artemis took a moment to think and said:

-Loneliness. –

I was shocked. Stunned, to say the least, but before I could say anything, she continued:

-You bear a loneliness that I hadn’t seen…or rather heard, in decades, my dear. See…there are different types of loneliness. All of them have a distinct tone, color and even smell to them. Every feeling has them. Some lonely people reek of onions and their color has a deep blue, almost black tone to it. Others have a yellowish-blueish color and reek of boiled eggs.

However, you, my dear. You reek of rain. Rain and sunshine. I know your loneliness because it has also plagued me for decades. I have learned to bear it. To live with it, but we both know this is not a feeling we wish upon anyone but ourselves.

You like my paintings, don’t you? –

-I…Yes! I love them. Each and every one of them. –

 She chuckled a bit and asked:

-And why do you think that is, darling? Why do you think people love my paintings so much they pay millions for them? What do you think makes my paintings so great that people are willing and have fought over my paintings? What do you think, hmm? –

-That’s because you’re the greatest painter that’s ever lived. Your paintings are magical. They move! They bring the paint to life! Who wouldn’t want one of your paintings? –

Artemis sat in silence for a moment and sighed deeply. She grabbed her cane and began walking back to her house. I sat confused at the summer table when she said:

-Are you waiting for an invitation, darling? Come here. I need to show you something. –

I grabbed my stuff and rushed inside. My heels made an echo through her mansion as I caught up to her. Her butler was waiting for us and as I stopped, he opened a big door. Lights lit the room and my jaw dropped at the sight. Dozens of paintings that had never been seen. An art collection worth billions…just collecting dust. Hidden from the world.

-You’re the first person ever…well…aside from Demien, to see my private collection. These are my favorite paintings ever. Each one with a story. Each one with a different tale to be told. –

As we walked down the long hall full of her paintings, she asked:

-You said that my paintings were so sought after because “they moved”. Tell me, child. Why is the human nature to make art? Why must we, as a species, make art? Why do we like it? Why does one write a song, paint, or write a poem? What makes art…art? –

I stood in silence as I thought when suddenly, Artemis stopped and watched a painting in front of her. I looked at the painting as well. A lonely man sitting in front of a typewriter in a dark room. A cigarette lit in his mouth and writing desperately, angrily. Tearing the paper over and over and starting over and over again. I turned back at Artemis who looked back at me and said as she pointed at the painting:

-Feelings. The feels are what makes art something valuable. Look at that man. He’s so desperate to finish whatever he’s writing that he is not happy with anything he does. He’s so focused on perfection that he might as well write for eternity seeking it.

Art awakens something inside ourselves that we didn’t even know was there in the first place. Love, hate, lust, sadness, fear, disappointment, a feeling is something imaginary…but art can bring it into the real world. –

We both took a moment to appreciate the painting in front of us and I finally asked:

-Madame. May I ask, what is your favorite painting you’ve ever made? –

-Oh, darling. Let me show you but first, I must tell you a tale. I hope you don’t mind an old geezer rambling about the ‘old times’ haha. –

Artemis began to walk through the long hall and said:

-When I was young. Younger than you probably, I had to flee my country because of the war. I came here with the hope to live a better life and grow to be someone important. However…life had other plans for me.

My parents were murdered in the street a year after we arrived here. My brother returned home and died in the war and my sister killed herself days after my parents did.

I was all alone and…I felt lost and lonely. Loneliness began creeping in as moss infects a house. Bit by bit. I struggled for many years with those feelings because no matter what I did…I always ended up feeling lost and lonely.

And I think you feel the same way, in your own way. –

Artemis stopped at the end of the hall and I saw the painting of a small boat floating in the middle of the ocean. Fog surrounded it and a little man struggled to keep it afloat. The sea was angry and each wave seemed like it was going to topple the little boat over. As I saw it, I felt the desperation of the little man. I felt his loneliness. I felt my loneliness. It took but a glimpse at the painting for me to form tears in my eyes.

-You seem to like it. Odysseus. That’s the name of it. I painted this when I was in the lowest part of my life. When there was nothing for me to cling to. No family. No friends. No one. I had nowhere to go and no matter what I did…I felt just like him. Desperate. Lonely. Clinging to dear life.

This was my first painting. This was the only painting I ever saw finished. I lost my sight soon after I finished it. –

-I…I can feel his desperation. His fear. His sadness. –

-I know. I can as well. –

We both shared a silence as we saw Odysseus fight against the sea. I couldn’t take my eyes off of him. I could feel everything he felt and, for a moment, I was him.

-This painting is the most complex painting I have ever made. Do you know why? –

-No, Madame. –

I said without taking my eyes off the painting.

-It’s not because of the complexity of the feelings I felt when I did it. It’s because this painting has an end to it.

This is no ordinary painting of mine. This one is the only one that tells a story. –

As she began her tale, it seemed like the painting followed her as well.

-Odysseus by the will of the Gods or fate, gets lost at sea. He sails aimlessly through the vastness of the ocean with no way of knowing where he is, where he’s been, or even where he’s going. He struggles and fights the sea desperately trying to stay afloat. Trying to stay alive but the sea keeps taunting him until a storm hits him so hard that he disappears. –

I saw the painting and I saw the little boat being hit with a wave so big it disappeared for a moment. My heart sank as I hoped for the worst fate for Odysseus. I couldn’t hold my tears back when suddenly I saw the little boat sailing, badly damaged through the waves. I felt joy and excitement as Artemis continued:

-Odysseus fights the sea, clinging to dear life for any reason you wish to think, and finally…after so much endured…Sun finally breaks through the storm, the sea is no longer angry and there he finds something he had long thought lost. –

-Hope. –

I said with tears streaming down my face. I heard Artemis chuckle a bit and said:

-Hope. That’s what he finds. That’s what he needed. –

We stood there for a moment in silence. I couldn’t think of anything. I just…cried. When suddenly I felt Artemis’ hand on my back. I turned to see her and she said:

-This, my dear. This is why I love to paint. I don’t paint for money. I don’t paint for fame. I paint because I like to see my paintings move those who see them to their core.

I like to see that people see my art and feel the way I felt when I painted them.  Anger, frustration, hopelessness, happiness, loneliness, every feeling any human has ever felt, I love giving it a body and letting it talk for itself.

That, my girl. That is art. –