Still Lifes (#LunaEast)

Choosing the Imagery

“Leaving so soon, Marlene?” one of the girls asked as I gathered all my things. I wasn’t so sure who actually said it since I was too busy fitting a large sketchbook into my eco bag.

“The exhibit’s in three weeks, and Ms. Lee would kill me if I have nothing to show for it,” I answered almost irritatedly when I made a move to get up from the front steps.

"So you're going off to your cupboard under the stairs again?" Bianca teased, and I couldn’t help but roll my eyes at her. But the effect was ruined as I struggled to pull the heavy bag over my shoulder. 

“When you’re done channeling Harry Potter, meet us at Sandy’s. We’re thinking of going to my place afterwards.” She gave me a casual wave.

I waved back at her and the rest of the group as a reply and headed off towards the old art department building, all the way on the other side of campus. 

Sometimes I asked my self why I even bothered hanging out with them, and why I let them tease me about my interests. But then again, they didn’t know about the brooding but handsome Mr. Benedicto who mentored the painters in the club and I could only smirk at the thought.

It was a long walk to the art building, but I couldn’t really complain. Since it was on the other side of the campus, away from the main building and student orgs, the amount of students progressively thinned out the more I neared it. You had to pass by the gardens to reach it, and the long concrete pavement that led up to it was cracked and rough in places, probably because of heavy objects the students transported across it.

The art building was an old structure, built almost the same time as the main one. The architecture was a cross between Neoclassicism and Baroque revival, kind of like the Manila City Hall. It was huge, having two wings and a central hall in the middle, two thick pillars that stood two stories high framed the large double doors, and really large arched grilled windows that were almost floor to ceiling. It had ‘old-school artsy’ written all over it. The building with its walls half-covered with vines stuck out from the landscape as much as the unnecessary vests we needed to wear.

Yes, I was into architecture. No, Bianca and the girls didn’t need to know.

I ran up the front steps, through the large doors and into the hall. For a decidedly old-school front, it was surprisingly modern inside, with the plain smooth walls painted with a muted light grey—almost white—color. The center hall was a large wide space and had a high ceiling as it took up two floors. We usually used the space for exhibits and displays, or even gatherings, but it was empty that week. There was a walkway above that connected the second floor of the two wings where the regular art classes were held. 

I turned left to the West wing where the painting studios were, and down the hall to studio no. 5—the ‘cupboard under the stairs’. It was a small room underneath the stairs with a built-in ramp. While all the other studios on the ground floor were large open spaces that could fit ten to fifteen students with their plates at a time, this one could only fit two or three due to the slanted ceiling and odd-shaped space. I checked the schedule by the door and signed my name in, before unlocking the door.  Out of habit, I threw my bags into the duplex locker, took off my vest and put on my plastic apron, before I looked at my roommate’s progress.

Nobody else would take the room due to its weird space, so there were only two of us who shared it. It was still big enough that we had enough room for both of us if were working on large pieces at the same time. I hardly saw her anyway. She took the M-W-F schedule, while I took the T-TH after classes, and Saturday mornings. 

My roommate had her two by three feet canvass propped up on an easel at her side of the room. It was an unfinished still life of a wheel barrow filled with potatoes, judging by the photograph taped on the top of the easel. It was still in the underpainting stage, but it looked to be promising. She had a way of making her still life paintings jump out of the canvass, and I had no doubt she’ll be able to do that with this. I wondered if this is what she would be showing in the exhibit.

I shrugged and got a box from my eco bag before closing the locker. I brought it over to my blank canvass, laid down on a wooden table. I took out the cutouts I’ve done the night before so I could start setting them up on my canvass. Mismatched illustrations from different old preschool and kindergarten schoolbooks. Some just line art, while some have already been colored in. I readied some Blu-Tack to use while I set some of the pieces. At least if Ms Lee suddenly came in, I would have something to show her. 

“Hey!” I almost jumped from my stool at the sound of the loud and annoyingly cheerful voice. It was James Vasquez, and he peered his head through the door I left open. 

“Oh, it’s you,” I said nonchalantly, not surprised at his appearance. 

“Yo, Sanchez, what’s up?” he asked with that goofy but cute grin of his. Probably would’ve worked on any other girl. Not me, though—especially since I knew what was really up.

“If you’re looking for Gigi, she’s not here,”  I sighed and adjusted my seat on the stool. He would always walk by and peer in. He didn’t say anything, but I simply knew, since he wasn’t looking at my side of the room.

“Oh,” came his reply, disappointment obvious in his tone.

“Dude,” I said wryly, “our schedule’s posted on the door. She obviously wouldn’t be here today.”

He slightly turned his head towards the door and let out a nervous laugh. “Oh yeah, right,” he mumbled. 

I simply frowned at him and started to go back to my cutouts, planning to ignore him until he spoke again. 

“Have you seen her today though?”

I raised an eyebrow at him. She wasn’t in any of my classes, and I only saw her if I attended the art club meetings. “No. Aren’t you her classmate?”

“Well, yeah, but—” He started while he ran a hand through his hair. “She didn’t come in to class today. Not even yesterday.”

Figured he would be the first one to notice. Gigi could blend into walls if she could, only appearing to teachers. She didn’t want to be noticed and just wanted to go about her own business. “So? She could just be sick. It’s flu season after all.” I was so done with this conversation, I just wanted to get back to my plate.

“It’s just that—” He looked at me as if he wanted to say something more. Then he made a small tsk-ing sound before shaking his head. “Never mind. Maybe it’s nothing. Thanks anyway,” he said abruptly then disappeared through the door.

I stood up from my stool and closed the door behind him. I thought he would never leave. I got back up on my stool and started working. But I couldn’t help but look at Gigi’s side of the room that was always neat and made up, and wondered what Vasquez was worried about. 

I shrugged my shoulders and tacked a small cutout of a toy block onto one side. It was probably nothing.