Bob Deakin Short Stories

Frankie suffering for his art.

“Can’t you knock first?” shouted Frankie, the red-faced artist, angrily, raising his pallet so that only his eyes were visible.

He was standing in a small, poorly-lit room, with various objects carefully sprawled about the floor while staring at his painting of a pirate. Included were everything from an ashtray and industrial adhesives to nude photos, bottles and buckets. This was a scheduled visit by the students from Stetson University to see his latest work in progress, but Frankie was not quite ready to show it off.

Everett Thomas, the art teacher leading the students, apologized as the students filed in and quickly viewed the display before leaving. He then had a brief, tense chat with Frankie before heading out with the students. Frankie agreed to come and speak to the group a few minutes later and offer insight into his current work.

The students made their way to another room and sat to discuss the show. Energy was high and they were bouncing in their seats to make comments.

“It was an unconventional display of art of course, but aren’t they all,” Mr. Thomas began. “Did you notice how important it was for the artist, right there, during our tour, to re-position the bucket in such a carefully chosen location? A true artist is never satisfied with random placement of his subjects.”

“It was amazing,” Tiffany interjected, her hands on her knees in glee. “That was such a compelling statement. I don’t know where to start. I’ve never had a work of art hit me like that before.”

“I see a man of the sea in horrible pain,” offered Seth, frantically attempting to explain Frankie’s use of color, texture and ‘found treasures.’ “His ability to emote an emotion is incomparable.”

Other students followed in praising the artist’s work, complimenting everything from the pirate hat in the painting to the mop in the bucket on the floor.

Twenty minutes later, Frankie finally arrived to talk to the students and answer questions.

“What was the message you were trying to send with this phenomenal work?” Mr. Thomas said, kicking off the questioning.

“I must start by apologizing to you all about this project,” Frankie said, his face painted with extreme disappointment. “I’ve been up for three days drinking beer, sniffing glue, looking at porn and trying to fix this goddamn leak in the ceiling.”

Copyright 2009