Akari (1)

Art is the beauty of expression. The sum total of a creative’s hard work. The feelings they wish to evoke and the beauty of their soul that they wish to display. An artist, no matter their canvas, is a beautiful, lonely person; desperately searching for their place in the world. I feel a sort of kinship with these unapologetic dreamers. The way that they manage to stay connected to the societal ladder is by providing a service to the snobs at the top of the world. A painting to massage a CEO’s ego or a sculpture of their face to lord over their fake, socialite friends. In a world where the rich and powerful dominate society, an artist has the enviable position to step out of this race to the bottom whilst still staying connected to the power structure.

It’s about as close to being out of the rat race you can get without fully expelling yourself from society. Being in sucks but being out is worse. That’s why artists are beings that I envy. They get the freedom with lower expectations and responsibilities.

I once did dream about entering the world of art and banging on about the fragility of life or fears of the poor, neatly portrayed in a picture of an apple but, frankly, I’m not so sure I could spew that utter claptrap and keep a straight face. Most artists are pretentious egotists and I know I don’t have the chops or skills to be one of them. I envy the freedom but not the people who fulfil this societal role.

Doesn’t mean I hate drawing though. From a young age, I’ve dabbled in doodling, painting and collage. My favourite thing to do is reading manga and, if I could draw like that, I would pursue that career as if my life depended on it, society be damned. But, the reality is, I’m about as skilled enough to be a hobbyist at best. Sure, I have a good time but I don’t think the art world is ready to embrace my 9 sided circle just yet. There is a reason I have art on the brain though. And that’s because I’ve been spending more and more time at the art club. Did I forget to mention I was a member? I signed up because they needed members and the school mandates that every student sign up for at least one club or society. Sure, they say it is to promote teamwork and unity but I know that they’re just trying to keep us at this educational prison that little bit longer each day; to give our parents an excuse to work longer hours and to appear to society as if the school truly cares. Sickening but it has its upsides. The upside in this case being…

“Ahh, Sato. Thanks for coming. You keep appearing this often we’re going to have to stop calling you a shadow member.”

Her.

Akari Minamoto.

Third year student.

What else could this be about than another girl? And I think this one might just be the one. Chocolate brown fluffy hair, deep, trusting hazel eyes and slightly tanned, pigmented skin. It probably sounds like I’m describing a dog but I promise you she is a beautiful woman. This school is packed full of them, seemingly. But looks are just the bread of a potential girlfriend sandwich, with the personality, the filling if you wish to prolong this tired metaphor, being the part you truly remember. A lingering taste, so to speak.

“Well… I just felt like working on my piece for the culture festival is all.”

One thing I have noticed after these dream illusions is that I’ve been slightly less nervous when talking to girls than before. I still stutter on occasion and still my voice cracks from the latent nerves but I’m improving. I managed to speak a normal, uneventful sentence without stuttering, without sweating like a pig or averting my eyes. It’s like VR training but I am my own virtual reality machine. Practice makes better and all that. Even though the end results of these illusions haven’t borne a girlfriend yet, I have faith that it will. Hopefully soon.

“Ahh, the landscape piece, right? Get it out and I’ll check how you’re getting along.”

God her smile is blinding. She has a sort of laid-back energy that makes you feel… comfortable. Like the entire room has been gently glomped and absorbed into a soft, welcoming hug. I don’t know if an atmosphere can be ‘soft’ but I can’t think of any better way to put it.

As she requested, I quickly plop my bag down and retrieve my canvas from the small collection in the store cupboard. I must admit that I’m pretty proud of this one.

“Hmmm. You’ve really improved, Sato. I’m impressed.”

That praise is delicious nectar that I want to bathe in. It might just be a little bit of flattery to get a new club member to stick around but I’m more than happy to take it.

“But… I do think it lacks something. Maybe a sort of… deeper meaning? What were you thinking of when painting it, Sato?”

“…I was thinking of a field?”

“Haha. I see that. But what did you want to portray with this picture? Natural beauty? Freedom? A sense of loneliness? To create a really memorable piece of art that stays with someone, you need to have a big picture idea… But it might be easier to just show you mine, right? Come, come.”

Ahh, even her critiques are gentle and soothing. I mean, this hoity-toity art world is foreign to me and I can’t pretend to know everything about it but…well, as long it’s Akari teaching me, I don’t mind a little lecture.

“…Wow…That is so beautiful.”

It’s not a lie either. She has truly painted a masterpiece. A beautiful scene is depicted with paint and brush. A vivid carnival of colour and feeling. This is a joyful painting. A celebration

God, I sound like a pretentious art critic but I suppose this is what a truly wonderful piece of art does to someone. It works for me anyway.

“You see, Sato. When I started painting this piece, I wanted to create something… happy. Something to bring joy to people’s faces, no matter their age or race. I thought about what makes me happiest and tried to weave my own feelings of joy and happiness into a traditional scene of celebration.”

“It’s amazing! I… I’ve never seen something this good before. It makes me feel happy just looking at it. Is this the piece you’re entering in the All Japan inter-school contest?”

“Yep. That’s the plan. I probably won’t win but it would be nice to be a runner-up. Anyway, that’s enough about me. You have a good base with that field landscape but try and use the rest of your time to add some emotion. Whatever you’re feeling now is fine. You’ve certainly got talent so you just need to work a little on your feelings.”

Some might take those words as cutting but when spoken with her gentle, angelic voice any criticism sounds like praise. It’s odd. Even knowing that in the long run of life, this improvement in art is unlikely to ever benefit me, I can’t say this feels like a waste. Spending time with a beautiful upperclassman and indulging in a creative pursuit makes the impending 50 years of work a little less intimidating. As if I have found something…rather, somebody, who helps me relax. Someone to make this confusing world just that little bit nicer to live in.

Plus I’ve actually spoken to this one. That’s where I went wrong with Misono and Sena. The allure of an older woman makes me feel warm and comfortable and… I don’t know. Maybe I’m happy. Ahh whatever! I can mull over this whilst I’m painting.

“…Deep breaths.”

Whenever I sit on this flimsy little wooden stool, a strange sense of calm washes over me. As if just sitting in this sparsely populated room with a brush in hand sends me to a different, quieter plane of existence. As if the world is telling me:

‘It’s okay to be you. Forget about your troubles and unwind.’

It’s a sense of bliss that I often find so difficult to find. A way to switch off my overactive brain and just…feel. Maybe this is what being a religious zealot feels like. Regardless, my pursuit of art, however enjoyable, is only a secondary reason for me being here. The first, of course, is the vivacious temptress that her friends call…Akari. As that is her name.

I wonder if she likes being called that… Could I be so bold as to call her by her first name already? No… No, it is too soon. But it is tempting. To be able to freely speak with the woman of my dreams is-

“Wow! Your painting has changed so much already, Sato? It feels more alive. More hopefully and forward-thinking. Whatever inspired you must be a joyful, wonderful presence in your life.”

You have no idea, love.

Her complete obliviousness to my feelings partnered with a warm, comforting smile should hurt but it doesn’t. Instead, I feel…motivated. As if I am an athlete desperately pursuing a new personal best but instead of a fast time, I am pursuing the future mother of my children. If she is unaware, then maybe I just need to confess and make her aware…

Or maybe it’s too soon.

…

Maybe it’s time for another dream sequence. As a test run.

Yes! I can’t wait to sleep tonight!

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END OF PART 1