First Draft: Chapter 11

A knock aroused me from my activities.  I went to the door and opened it.  Icarus was standing in the doorway.  “Hello Icarus,” I said, greeting him with a nod of my head before returning to my activities.
“Hello Jonny,” Icarus replied.  “Um, I’ll just let myself in then, okay Jon?”
I opened another box.  “Oh yeah, come in, come in Icarus.  I don’t mean to be rude, I’ve just got a lot of unpacking to do.”
“Still?  Jon we’ve been here for almost a week and you still haven’t unpacked yet?”
I threw some clothes on a shelf.  “I’ve been busy.”
“You didn’t even have time to unpack?”  Jon, what in the world have you been doing?  Classes don’t even start for another couple days.”
Well, truthfully I hadn’t been doing much of anything.  I’d just been hanging around with various people, goofing off during our first week at the University.  “You know, having fun.”
Icarus plopped down in my chair.  “Hey, I stopped by David’s place this evening.  He wasn’t there.  Do you know where he went?”
“Yeah, he’s out with Helen.”
Icarus leaned back in the chair.  That boy could never sit still for long.  “Figures.  Those two spend a lot of time together, don’t they?”
“Yeah, they do.”
“Man, you’d think they were married or something.  How long have they been going out?”
“Oh, about a couple years now.”
“That long already?  Do you ever see David anymore?”
I shrugged.  “A little bit.  It’s not like it used to be.’
Icarus stood up and walked to the window.  “Lots of things aren’t like they used to be.”  He spit out the window.  “Hey Jon, check it out.  I made it all the way to the sidewalk.”
“Nice Icarus,” I said, unpacking my journal carefully and placing it in a desk drawer.
“Like I was saying though, things are really changing.  I mean, we’re at the University now.”  Icarus flung out his hands to punctuate what he was saying.  “The university Jon.  We’re not kids anymore.  Did you ever seriously think we’d ever make it to this point?”
“I knew I had to go somewhere.”
“You know what I mean.  Did you ever think we’d be this old?  I mean, didn’t you think we’d be kids forever?”
I smiled.  “There was a part of me that thought that, yeah.”
Icarus went over and looked at my boxes.  “Need any help unpacking?”
“Nah, I got it.”
“Hey, how come you didn’t get stuck with a room mate like the rest of us?”  I shrugged, too embarrassed to say.  Icarus turned from my boxes to look at me.  His face relaxed into a knowing look.  “Because of your father huh?  Old Flash pulled a few strings to make sure you got your own room.”
I decided to change the subject.  “How do you like your room mate?”
Icarus issued a short laugh.  “What a moron.  I hate him?  Hey Jonny, do you have anything to eat?  I’m starving over here.”
“You’re not scrounging my food again Icarus.”
“Oh come on.  Your dad can afford it.”
I opened a desk drawer and found a sack of nuts.  “Here, take it,” I said, throwing it at Icarus.
“Much obliged Jonny.”  I took my socks out of a box and started puttin gthem in a dresser.  “Well Jon, I suppose you were wondering what you’re doing tonight?”
“I know what I’m doing tonight.  I’m unpacking.”
“Not tonight you’re not.  Tonight you are going to the University are show.”  Icarus flashed a flier in my face.  “Check this out Jon.  All art by University students on display, plus information about how we can contribute to the art community.”  Icarus removed the flier from two inches in front of my eyes and read from it.  “See art on display by your fellow students, interact with fellow art lovers, learn about other cultural events the University offers, and even opportunities to submit your own art.”
“I’m not going.”
“What?  Give me one good reason why not.”  Icarus folded the flier back up and returned it to his pocket as he talked.
“I don’t like art and I have to unpack tonight.”
I opened another box, but Icarus walked over and closed it.  “Alright Jon, this stuff has been in boxes all week, it can stay here another night.”
“I’ve got to unpack sometime.”
“Tomorrow is sometime.”
“Icarus, I don’t even like art.”
Icarus tried to assume a disgusted look, which was ruined by his continued eating of my food.  “Don’t like art?  Well then my boy, I absolutely insist you come to the art show.  Besides, it will be an opportunity for you to meet some new people.”
“But I don’t--”
“Come on,” Icarus said, opening the door.  “We’re going to be late.”  When I just stared blankly at him, Icarus pleaded with me.  “Come on Jonny, just spend two hours with me at this art show and I promise I’ll leave you alone for the rest of the night.”  He could see I needed more convincing.  “Jon, you know I can make your night miserable.”
I reopened the box and removed a pair of pants.  “Two hours?”
“That’s all I ask from you.”
I breathed out a long sigh.  “You really tire me sometimes Icarus.”
“Come on Jonny.  Art’s a waiting.”

I expected a magnificent affair.  The University had several beautiful buildings which would have lended themselves excellently to the event.  There were buildings with tall magnificent dome ceilings, and beautiful halls lighted by wide glass windows.
The art show, however, was tucked away in the basement of one of the buildings.  IT was somewhat dimly lit, but well enough so that the artwork could be seen.
Icarus insisted on making an entrance.  He flung open the doors and walked in with his arms outstretched, as if welcoming the art.  Heads turned towards him, and I sneaked in afterwards rather embarrassed.  A few portraits lined the wall where we first entered.  Icarus stood back and admired them.  I looked around at the other people.
“Hey, Jon, pay attention here.  You’re embarrassing me.  I brought you to an art show, quit starting at the people.”  Icarus suddenly thought of something.  “Are there any beautiful girls?”
“No.”
“Well come on then Jon, look at the art.  I mean, why do you think I brought you here.”  I looked over at the portraits to appease Icarus.  After a couple minutes, he hit my shoulder lightly.  “Alright Jon, which one’s your favorite?”
“Um, that one I guess.”
“Which one?”
“That one, on the right.”
“Why?”
“It looks the most realistic.”  Icarus laughed.  “What?  What did I say?”
“Come on Jon.  Let’s go see some more stuff.”
We went down the hall.  Icarus stopped me suddenly.  “Now look at that Jon.  That is art.  Do you see that painting?  I nodded.  “Absolutely beautiful.  That really speaks to me Jon.  Look at the way the colors play with each other, the message of conflict in it.  The inner struggle of the artist is manifested here on this piece of paper.  I must meet this artist.  Icarus spoke loudly, not caring who heard him.  I put my head into my hand in embarrassment at being with him.  “Com on Jon, this is an art show.  Look at the painting.  Really, I can’t go anywhere with you.  Now quit embarrassing me.”
“Quietly resolving never again to accompany Icarus anywhere, I peeked at the painting through my fingers.  It was simply a swirl of colors, nothing that made sense.  Icarus remained fascinated by it and it was some time before we moved on.
Sculptures and paintings loomed before our eyes.  Icarus was invariably attracted to the ones that didn’t make sense.  A sculpture that appeared to be just a bunch of random stones thrown together he raved about.  A painting that was just different colored dots he talked to me about for a full five minutes.
Icarus stopped at a painting and was fascinated by it.  He was fascinated by so much at this show.  “Look at this Jon.  This painting is absolutely magnificent.  I must meet the artist.”  It was an interesting painting certainly, although it did not fit my tastes.  The colors were white at the center, branching out to include a wide variety of red, yellow and black, but only at the fringes.  The center of the painting was mostly white.
The picture was of two different men, one imposed over the other.  Both men were shown from the back so that their faces were not visible.  Both men had their arms raised, although since their figures overlapped, things became muddled and I couldn’t quite tell what either was doing with their hands.
“Now tell me Jon, what do you see when you look at this painting?”
The answer seemed obvious.  “Two separate paintings of men overlapping?”
“No.  No, no, no Jonny.  What does it mean to you?”  Icarus leaned back and contemplated the painting.  His eyes narrowed, his hand rested under his chin.  He had assumed the posture of an art critic.  “Now see Jon, when I look at this painting, I see the sun.”
“What?”
“No, look.  You’ve got pure hot brilliant white in the center, and then it moves out to different colors.  You know all color comes from the sun Jon.”
“What about the two men in the middle?”
“The symbolize life.  All life is dependent on the sun.  And they both have their arms raised, welcoming the sun.”
“But they’re in the sun.”
“No, that’s just symbolic.  Imagine they’re on Earth, reaching towards the sun, and yet at the same time they’re placed in the sun.”  Icarus snapped his fingers, pleased at his explanation.  “This painting is absolutely brilliant.  I would love to meet the artist.”
Another student perked his head up.  “I’m sorry, I couldn’t help over hearing.  I can introduce you to him if you like.”
“You know him?”  Icarus asked excitedly.
“He’s my roommate.”
Icarus quickly introduced himself and me.  “My name is Adonis,” the student answered.  “Come on, I’ll take you to him.”  Adonis took us to the refreshment room.  Four or five people were hanging out in there, eating cake and drinking punch.  Adonis took us to one of them and introduced us.
The artist was not a short person, but he was certainly not tall.  The top of his head only reached to about my chin.  He had big arms, but they were rather undefined.  He was wearing a plain T-shirt, and did not look at all like many of the other art goers present.
Adonis introduced us.  “Hermes, these are fans of yours.”
Hermes was eating a piece of cake when Adonis came up to him.  Hermes hurriedly  took one last bite of the cake, put the rest down, licked his fingers and then wiped them off on a napkin while talking to us.  “Really?  You guys like my art work?”
“Loved it,” Icarus responded.
“Here, let me pour you guys a drink.  Have you tried this punch yet?  It’s fantastic.”
“You sir, are a genius,” Icarus said.  “I found your painting absolutely astounding.
“Which one?”
Icarus turned to me.  “Oh, now I didn’t quite catch the name of it.  Did you happen to see the tittle of it by any chance Jon?”
“No.”
“Well it was the big one with two people imposed over each other if that rings any bells.”
“Of course,” Hermes snapped his fingers in recognition.  He extended his hand to us.  “I didn’t catch either of your names.”
We both introduced ourselves, and Hermes was so pleased at having admirers that he walked with us back to the actual painting.
“Now as you can see I haven’t even named the piece,” Hermes said.  Icarus and I glanced at the painting and, sure enough, the words, “Untitled by Hermes”, resided at the bottom.  “Maybe you can help me think of a name.”
Icarus held out his hand suddenly.  “No, no no Hermes, I wouldn’t dream of toying with your masterpiece.  You were right the first time.”
“What do you mean?” I asked.
“Well it’s a stroke of genius really,” Icarus asserted.  “Hermes here has recognized the powerfulness of what he was trying to convey, and he knew that a name would only be a distraction.  You see Jon, the danger with putting a name on a piece of art is some of those morons out there will try and use the name to encapsulate the whole piece, as if it could be defined in a word or phrase.”  Icarus turned to Hermes.  “Sir, I commend you on being able to break free of that.”
Hermes nodded his head graciously.  “Would you like to see some of my other art work?”
“You bet I would,” Icarus responded eagerly.
We walked down the hall.  “You guys first year students here?”  We both answered yes.  “That’s cool.  I’m a second year student myself.  You guys like art I take it?”  Icarus said yes.  “Well hey, you should join the art guild.  You could display some of your own stuff.  Do you paint?”
“A little bit,” Icarus answered.  “I’m not very good, but I have a few pieces.”
“Don’t worry about it man.  This whole show is just students.  Anyone who wants to display a painting can do so, no matter how good it is.  By the way, where are you guys from?”  We both answered we were from Urbae.  “Ah, local boys, huh?  You probably know more about the University than I do.  I’m from Alba.”
Icarus raised his eyebrows.  “My, you’ve come a long way to go to school.”
Hermes nodded.  “I sure have.  I wanted to go to school in the capital city, where all the action is.”
Icarus and I exchanged looks.  “Listen Hermes, let me save you the anticipation,” Icarus said.  “There is no action in Urbae.”
“It’s a sleeping city,” I chimed in.  “Nothing ever happens here.”
“Then why are you two still here.”
“I don’t know.  Why are we still here Jonny?”
I knew why I was here.  My father would tolerate me going no where else.  What would I gain from going to school in another city?  My future was here in Urbae.
Hermes showed us other various pieces of his that were in the show.  There was a rock painted with various colors sitting on a stand.  “Astounding,” Icarus raved.  There was a painting of a tree trunk, which turned into a man as it grew upwards.  “Now see Jon, this is a stroke of genius by Hermes.  I’ve never seen anyone so expertly express the human condition.  That’s how we all are.  We long to fly with the birds, to leave the ground, but we’re rooted to the ground, just as trees are.  We’re really only slightly freer than the trees, who can’t even move because of their roots.  And the real tragedy of this whole thing is that we don’t even realize it.  And here Hermes has excellently expressed the longing we all feel.  Well done Hermes.”
I was once again becoming embarrassed by Icarus, who talked about Hermes as if Hermes wasn’t there.  Hermes seemed pleased by the attention.
“Hey, are you boys doing anything after the show?  Do you want to join me for a cup of coffee or something?”
Icarus was overjoyed.  “Why we’d be honored.”
“Actually, I’ve got to finish unpacking.  I’m sure you two will have fun.”
Icarus grabbed my shoulder.  “Are you telling me that you are passing up an opportunity to go out with the artist?”
“Icarus, you told me two hours.”
“This is a special case, Jon.  I can’t let you miss this.  In fact I insist you come.  I’ll pay for you.”
I considered the offer.  “Okay, deal, but I can’t stay out too late.”

Hermes took us to an out of the way coffee shop a little ways down from the university.  “This place doesn’t’ really get much business.  Nobody even knows it’s here really, just because of the location of it.  You boys like coffee, right?”
“Love it,” Icarus responded.
“Actually, the coffee at this place really isn’t anything special.  I mean, it’s not bad, but it’s not outstanding.  The real reason I love to go to this place is the people here.  I’ve met some of the most interesting people I know at this place.  Artists, poets, writers, and art lovers, you can find them all here.”  That prospect excited Icarus I think.
The coffee shop really was an interesting place.  It was only about a half-mile from the University, and yet it was in a dark, out of the way alley with an entrance that was hardly visible.  It was a wonder anyone knew this place existed at all.
Hermes brought us to the door.  In red paint above the door the words, “The Cave” were paint, but it was obvious not a lot of care had gone into their creation.  They looked hastily scribbled, and the paint had dripped down to the door before it had dried.
Hermes pushed the old door and went inside.  We followed him.  There was a flight of stairs immediately after the door, which we climbed up.  They were wet and slippery and the place smelled like vomit.  As we neared the top of the stairs, the smell of vomit disappeared and was replaced by the smell of smoke.
The place was actually a lot larger than the small entrance had led me to believe.  The coffee shop was roughly the size of a basketball court, maybe a little bigger.  It was extremely smoky though.  Everyone had a pipe or a cigarette.  I think I even saw a few cigars there.  Involuntarily I coughed as the smoke invaded my lungs.  Hermes was right about one thing certainly.  The people who went here were interesting characters.  I looked over a sea of wire-rimmed eyeglasses and hair that went in every direction.
Icarus jabbed me.  “Hey ease up on the coughing.  You’re making the smokers uncomfortable.”
Hermes motioned to an empty table.  “You boys sit there.  I’ll go pick you up something special, my treat.”
Hermes went to the counter to order.  Icarus and I sat at the empty table.  Icarus’ face beamed with excitement.  “This is so cool Jon.  Coffee with the artist.”
“I think we’re the first fans he’s ever had,” I said.  “I think he cares more about making a good impression on us then we do on him.”
Icarus leaned forward.  “Jon, do you realize the genius of this man?  He’s like a prophet of our generation.”
I didn’t feel like arguing the point, so I decided to change the subject.  “So Icarus, have you met any new and exciting people at the University?”
Icarus laughed.  “Ah Jonny, you wouldn’t believe it.  I’ve been going out of my way to meet new people.”  In contrast to Icarus, I had hung out only with people I knew from the old school, not really caring about meeting new people.  “I’ve met this girl with legs like you wouldn’t believe.  She’s like a supermodel Jonny.”
I smiled.  “So Icarus, any possibilities here?”
He turned his head to the side in a contemplative pose.  “Well, I’m definitely interested.  We’ll have to see how things go.  I’m not sure if she’s as interested in me as I am in her.”
“Tell me more, tell me more.”
“Well, her name in Venus, and get this Jon: I’m going out with her this Friday.”
I suddenly became worried for Icarus, well at the same time not entirely surprised that he would do something like this.  “You mean, this Friday as in today?” I asked dryly.
“What?”  The smile vanished from Icarus’ face as he realized what I was talking about.  “Oh no.”  Icarus used just about every swear word he knew as he looked around frantically for a clock.  “Blast it!  Jonny, do you have any idea what time it is?”
“It was eight when we came in.”
“I still have time if I hurry.  Jon, it’s been fun.”  Icarus stood up, kissed me on the cheek, and bolted out the door before I even had time to protest.  And there I was, left alone with this new prophet of our generation.

Hermes showed up with three steaming cups.  He sat down, and gave me a cup.  ‘Try this.  You’ll love it.”
I brought the cup cautiously to my face and smelled the contents.  “Is this coffee?”
“It has coffee in it.  Go ahead, try it.”
I brought it to my lips and took a small sip.  An incredibly sweet taste passed through my mouth.  I took a bigger gulp.  “This is delicious,” I exclaimed.  “What is it?”
“A little mixture they serve here.  It doesn’t even taste like coffee, does it?”
“I don’t like coffee, but I like this.”
“Good, good.”  Hermes put a cup in front of Icarus’ chair, then indicated towards the empty spot.  “Is he just in the bathroom?”
“Actually no, he had to leave suddenly.  He forgot he had a date tonight.”
“Oh.”  Hermes seemed disappointed.
“Well, more drink for the rest of us,” I said, trying to cheer Hermes up.
“That’s really too bad.  He seemed like an insightful person.”
“I’m sure he is.”
An awkward silence followed.  “Well I was quiet impressed with your artwork as well Hermes,” I lied, for the sake of breaking the silence.
“Really?”
I gulped down some more of the sweet drink.  “Now I have a question.  You know that exhibit of the rock you had?  The rock painted all different colors?”
“Yes.”
“What was the meaning behind that?”
“There was no meaning.”
“Your message then?”
Hermes shrugged.  “I found that rock on the ground one day when I was walking around.  I thought it looked pretty cool so I picked it up and kept it for a while.  Then one day I thought it needed a little some thing more, so I took it down to the art shop with me and painted it all different colors.”
“And the picture of the tree man?”
Hermes put his fingers to his lips in thought.  “Oh, now let me think.  I’m not really sure exactly where I first got the idea for that.  That looks pretty cool though, doesn’t it?  I was particularly pleased with the way the tree trunk very smoothly turned into a man’s torso.”
I was becoming interested in what Hermes was saying.  I gulped down the last of my drink.  “So all the stuff Icarus was saying about a human’s desire to fly like the birds?”
“I didn’t think of that when I drew it.”
I snapped my fingers eagerly.  “So everything he was saying was just fluff?”
“No, I wouldn’t say that.”
I reached for Icarus’ cup.  “May I?”
“Help yourself.  No, that’s not the way I would look at it at all.  Just because I didn’t consciously put something into the painting doesn’t mean it’s not in there.”
I didn’t feel like debating the point at that moment.  “Okay, okay.  Tell me about the picture of the two figures.  What is the story behind that one?”
Hermes became excited.  “Now that is a painting I had fun creating.  It started out as a simple outline sketch.  I had a friend of mine pose and I drew him from the back.  I drew the whole thing in black.”
“And?”
“Well it was a simple sketch.  I just drew the outline of his body and then I covered the whole thing in with black.  Nothing special.  I didn’t really like the way it looked though, so I covered the whole thing in white paint in frustration.”  Hermes leaned forward in his enthusiasm as he talked about the creation of his masterpiece.  “The interesting thing was that even after painting over the whole thing, I could still see where it had been, so I just traced the outline and put it back on the picture.  It looked pretty cool because it now had a dark outline, and the rest of it looked faded.  But it still needed something, so I got another friend of mine to pose also from the back, and I painted his figure over the one I already had.  I didn’t really know what I was doing, but I thought that maybe it would turn out cool.  Then I just colored the edges so it wouldn’t look so plain.”
I just raised my eyebrows and took another drink.  I did not want to get caught up in another discussion.  “Interesting.”
Hermes, however, was the one who pushed me on it.  “What did Icarus think of it?”
“He uh,” I looked up from my drink to Hermes.  “He’s under the impression that it represents the sun.”
“Well now see, it could be that too.”
“But that’s not what you intended?”  Hermes shook his head.  I could contain myself no longer.  “I don’t know if I necessarily agree with this Hermes.”  Looking for some way to prove my point, I glanced around the table and found some silverware.  “Alright, let’s take this silverware here, and let’s put it on the middle of the table.”  I lumped it down in a loose pile.  “Now it needs a little more, wouldn’t you say?”  I mean silverware in a pile is rather plain, isn’t it?”
“I see where you’re going with this Jon.”
“Well hear me out anyway.”  I grabbed the salt and pepper shakers.  “Okay, now let’s say our mutual friend Icarus comes suddenly back and sees our new creation here and says that,” I struggled for a minute to think of a suitable explanation.  “Alright, let’s say that Icarus says this structure represents the end of conventional middle class mores.  The silverware, which represents Middle class conventions, lie in a fallen position.  The salt and pepper on the other hand are in a dominant upright position.  The salt and pepper are of course spices.  We can use the word spicy in the sense of raunchy or inappropriate.  And so, this seemingly simple structure becomes a subtle prophecy.  Table manners are on their way out, and spiciness is on it’s way in.”  I cleared the table suddenly with a sweep of my arm.  The contents clattered noisily to the ground.  There was a brief silence as people looked over to see what the noise had been, and then the hum of conversation resumed.  “And you and Icarus can make up all the explanations you want.  That pile on the ground is now a new piece of art.  This table is a work of art.  The vomit in that alley outside is art.”
Hermes took a deep breath.  “I see your point Jon.  Why don’t you clean that stuff of the floor?”  I knelt to the floor and picked up the fallen silverware.  “I think you’re looking at this all wrong.  A couple of years ago I was wandering around Alba on day with my sketchpad, just looking for something to draw.  I went just outside of the city, on a little hill.  And on that hill there was a rock, and on that rock there was a broken bottle, so I sketched in the broken bottle in my pad, and then I drew the city in the background.  I liked it so much I later did a whole painting of it.  To me it represented how broken our society is.  The brokenness of the bottle was shown against the city.  I never thought of that when I drew it, but it was all there.  That structure you made on the table that was art because you made it art.  This table could be art to us if we were able to give meaning to it.”
“But can a painting mean something that the artist never intended it to?”
“Why not?  Meaning is determined not by the artist, but by those who interpret the artist’s work.”  I shook my head in confusion.  “Remember also Jon, that not everything has to have a meaning.  Some art is there just for its visual appeal.”
“You mean, beauty for the sake of beauty?”
“Perhaps, yes, but remember not all art is beautiful.  Some art goes out of its way to be ugly or disturbing.”
“To make a point?”
“Sometimes, but don’t forgot what I just said.  Not all art has a point.”
I finished the last of Icarus’ drink.  “I’m not sure I agree with everything you say.”
Hermes leaned back.  “Well you’re certainly entitled to your own opinion.  Maybe you ought to stop by the art guild sometime and learn some more.”
“Thanks, but no thanks.  I don’t like art.”
“You mean you don’t like any art at all?”  I shrugged.  “Come on Jon, you stop by and we’ll be sure to find a piece of art that you like.”
“I don’t know.”
“Here, do you have a piece of paper handy?”  I searched my pockets for paper.  “Never mind.  I’ll just write it on this napkin.  We meet on Tuesday afternoon’s at this time at this place.  Just stop by sometime.  You might be pleasantly surprised.”
“I’ll keep it in mind,” I said, pocketing the napkin.
“Hey Jon, do you like music?”
The question caught me off guard.  “I guess so, yeah.  Why?”
“There’s a band playing in a few minutes in the music hall.  I think you might like it.  They’re some of my favorite musicians.”
I thought for a moment.  I did have unpacking to do, but I was beginning to enjoy Hermes’ company, and the unpacking could always wait for another day.