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A story for the picture, and the Lady therein:
It was a joke he was sure of it. A cruel joke...albeit an expensive one, but a cruel none none the less.
And this from his friends.
They knew that he was looking for a model. A muse for his work with paints and his brushes...
Since Victoria...moved to Austria his work as an artist had suffered greatly. She had been the spark, the inspiration behind his greatest pieces. Her grace, her beauty, and her love...
But only for her work. It was strictly business with her. No attachments. No personal connections.
Still, despite that Victoria always managed to bring out the best in him and in his work.
Now his work...it lacked the depth it once had when she was there. It lacked heart it had when she was there to inspire it.
He was in a bind and turned to his friends.
They promised to find him a model. They promised him a muse...
...and they delivered her.
She was, in fact, woman of unparalleled beauty, a model with a flawless feminine figure. An angel! A wonder to behold...
...but she was also a woman of plastic.
"A mannequin..." he solemnly whispered as he stared at the figure upon the table. She was a bald mannequin, who, poised upon her knees, her hand at her sides, gazed upward longingly at some unseen point in the ceiling. There were joints in her form. Splits in her plastic flesh, seems that might have allowed her to move...
if it weren't for the pose. The pose, although a good one made any other pose impossible.
And yet despite her failings as a model this Galatea of plastic still spoke to him. Her eyes cried out to him, spoke to him and touched his heart.
While she might not be the model he had need he vowed that he would find a place for her in his home.
A place worthy of her. A place of honor.
In the mean time he found a silken sheet and wrapped it around her shoulders.
It was a whim. A silly whim, but he figured that any woman, even a plastic woman deserved to keep her dignity intact. He left the work room in a hurry. If she was to stay he had to get her a wig!
If only he had stayed, if only he had continued to admire the Lady of plastic he would have seen her face warm.
He would have seen her lips widened ever so slightly into a warm and genuine smile.
It was a joke he was sure of it. A cruel joke...albeit an expensive one, but a cruel none none the less.
And this from his friends.
They knew that he was looking for a model. A muse for his work with paints and his brushes...
Since Victoria...moved to Austria his work as an artist had suffered greatly. She had been the spark, the inspiration behind his greatest pieces. Her grace, her beauty, and her love...
But only for her work. It was strictly business with her. No attachments. No personal connections.
Still, despite that Victoria always managed to bring out the best in him and in his work.
Now his work...it lacked the depth it once had when she was there. It lacked heart it had when she was there to inspire it.
He was in a bind and turned to his friends.
They promised to find him a model. They promised him a muse...
...and they delivered her.
She was, in fact, woman of unparalleled beauty, a model with a flawless feminine figure. An angel! A wonder to behold...
...but she was also a woman of plastic.
"A mannequin..." he solemnly whispered as he stared at the figure upon the table. She was a bald mannequin, who, poised upon her knees, her hand at her sides, gazed upward longingly at some unseen point in the ceiling. There were joints in her form. Splits in her plastic flesh, seems that might have allowed her to move...
if it weren't for the pose. The pose, although a good one made any other pose impossible.
And yet despite her failings as a model this Galatea of plastic still spoke to him. Her eyes cried out to him, spoke to him and touched his heart.
While she might not be the model he had need he vowed that he would find a place for her in his home.
A place worthy of her. A place of honor.
In the mean time he found a silken sheet and wrapped it around her shoulders.
It was a whim. A silly whim, but he figured that any woman, even a plastic woman deserved to keep her dignity intact. He left the work room in a hurry. If she was to stay he had to get her a wig!
If only he had stayed, if only he had continued to admire the Lady of plastic he would have seen her face warm.
He would have seen her lips widened ever so slightly into a warm and genuine smile.