Guns & Whistles | Victor Zsasz

CHAPTER | 3 |

At the end of the night, in what simply felt like a blink of time, she's left running a hand over streaks of now dried paint. It's messy, organic and as chaotic as it pleased, much like how she saw herself in a way.

Jovie knew that the life of an artist was often romanticized, but she also knew that the reality was far from glamorous. She had spent countless hours hunched over her canvases, struggling to bring her vision to life. And yet, she still felt herself falling short.

It was a frustrating and isolating experience, and at times but she couldn't bring herself to stop creating.

For Jovie, art was more than just a hobby or a profession. Even when everything else in her life seemed to be falling apart, she found solace in the act of creation.

As she sat in her studio, staring at the mess of wet paint on her canvas, Jovie knew that it was up to her to find a way to reignite her passion for art. She couldn't rely on external validation or recognition - she had to find a way to connect with her work on a deeper level, to see the beauty and meaning in even the messiest, most imperfect creations.

Her handiwork.

Though it never lended to a long enough distraction, she returned to that something she was trying to craft, trying to find. Paint stained her long sleeves while a few patches of paint had made it onto her face. Jovie's eyes dashed between the edges of the frame and her brush.

Possessed was too weak of a word.

- / / / / -

As she packed a small case to carry files, notepads, pens, pencils, and an almost foul number of erasers, she's caught herself attempting to figure out Detective Bullock's true intentions. Wondering, is he actually just this friendly?

A foolish thought for Gotham.

Social interaction wasn't Jovie's strongest point, so to say.

She spends most of her time absorbed in front of a canvas. Pencils and brushes held her hand, so the company was negotiable.

Although Jovie recalled talking to some other art students back when she was studying at state, before deciding an art degree was useless, she struggled to remember their names so they probably didn't count.

Jovie doesn't want this to be the story of her life, but beggars can't be choosers.

After leaving that hell hole of a college campus, She slept in motels, with other surfing students if she was lucky.

She was no stranger to state hostels.

She spent countless hours practicing and honing her skills, often staying up late into the night working on her latest projects.

As she continued to push herself, Jovie began to see progress in her work. She started to receive recognition from other artists and even landed a few small commissions. It wasn't much, but it was a start.

One day, Jovie stumbled upon an advertisement for an open call at a local art gallery. Without hesitation, she submitted a few of her pieces and waited anxiously for the results.

To her surprise, Jovie received a call a few days later informing her that she had been selected to participate in the gallery's upcoming exhibition. It was a small victory, but it felt like a major breakthrough for Jovie after all of her hard work and perseverance.

As the exhibition approached, Jovie poured all of her energy into preparing her pieces and making sure everything was perfect.

As she walked around the gallery, taking in the sights and sounds of the other artists and patrons, Jovie felt a sense of pride and accomplishment that she had never experienced before. For the first time in a long time, she felt like she was exactly where she was meant to be.