The being these items composed wiped his brow, just barely keeping the tip of the paint brush out of his hair. Maverick examined the canvas before him with methodical critique. Nope, still not right. Another failure. He groaned externally at the same time as his boss entered the studio.
“Again?” she asked. Jane was a gentle looking woman, tiny in height but big in personality, with sparkling blue eyes behind round frames. She was the President of the arts center, and admittedly, it had been a bit of a risk to hire on a fresh art school graduate to run their visual art department, but she was a motherly woman who took that chance on him. Maverick wasn’t impassioned about teaching art to snotty children, but it paid the bills, and it gave him the opportunity to play in the studios between classes and sending emails.
“Conventional mediums and I just don’t seem to get along,” Mave sighed in resignation. Jane stepped closer to view the canvas.
“Oh, I like it!” she exclaimed. “Why don’t you?”
Maverick eyed the painting once more. The colors he had used for the subject’s skin were a little too peachy, the red hair a little too dull. The piece didn’t seem to have a full understanding of its light source, either. And he just couldn’t get those freckles to look real or logically placed. “It’s just… not right,” he answered plainly.
“Well, as long as you can teach the principles - and we both know you can - you don’t need to torture yourself over painting,” Jane pointed out. “I love that you use the space for original work, but why like this? What is your preferred medium?”
Mave almost said he/him out of routine for any question asking about something he “preferred”. “Sculpture,” he answered. “Mostly animals. Aquatic life, to get specific.” He’d made a thousand tiny sharks, and in fact gave Jane a six-inch octopus for her most recent birthday.
“So do that,” Jane said simply. “Who cares if it’s repetitive? Make art that means something to you.” She reached up and patted his shoulder. Maverick smiled slightly. “And I like this painting, even if you don’t. Can I hang it in my office?”
Maverick pulled his gaze abruptly from the painting to face her. “What? Really?” he gasped incredulously. “I mean, yeah, sure, I guess so.”
“Great,” Jane beamed. “I’ll be back when it dries.”