Placeholder Bare Necessities

[Amelia]

5th Summer 516AV

Amelia was all for self-improvement. Even a young woman like her, with all her social know-how, fashion genius and modesty, there was some minor room for improvement. And in the case of Amelia Trisswell-Barker, these areas of development were to be conquered and mastered with military-like efficiency. If she wanted to be her best, all she needed to do was to learn how.

Today, she sat on a rather uncomfortable stool in Tain’s Studio, an easel in front of her, on which stood a large canvas. In truth Amelia had little appreciation for art in the form of paintings or pottery – fashion was, in her opinion, the superior form of self-expression – but she did appreciate good tuition when she found one. Likewise, she was aware that in terms of fashion design, her greatest shortfall was her own artistic ability. She could sketch a dress or skirt, but when it came to the human body, Amelia’s artistic skill was lacking. Her drawn models always ended up looking grotesquely malformed, with large heads and eye-wateringly stumpy legs.

It simply wasn’t good enough.

“Today we will be learning how to recreate the human body with charcoal and canvas,” Nat Hawker, the partner in both business and romance of the handsome Tain Shan, said to her small class, “paying particular attention to biological accuracy. Of course in some forms of art, accuracy is not needed. But for medical diagrams, it is crucial that recreations are correct and precise.”

Beside Nat Hawker stood an unfamiliar male. He was chiselled, dark haired, and olive skinned. If art looked more like that, it would be far more interesting…

But Amelia’s sexual attraction to the male quickly gave way to other desires. His colouring – those deep, warm eyes of his – needed to be paired with navy blue to bring them out. Maroon would be another option. His build was stocky, and so cut-off britches would have to be avoided in order to lose precious inches in height. Amelia’s lips pursed and she tilted her head in concentration as she further assessed the male’s style needs. Definitely an autumn, not a summer…

Unbeknownst to Amelia, Nat had continued with her introduction and was now waving a hand towards the handsome young man beside her. “Rafe, whenever you’re ready…”

Rafe stepped forward into the centre of the semi-circle of easels that surrounded him. With a quirk of his eyebrows and the briefest of winks thrown back to Nat, the young male untied the velvet sash that hung around his waist. The gown melted to the floor, and he stood proudly, and entirely nakedly, before Amelia and her fellow students.

The seamstress gave a tiny shriek. She dropped her charcoal lump, breaking it into several smaller, useless pieces. Her classmates all turned towards her, scowling in disapproval. Amelia blushed and half-fell, half-slipped off her stool to gather up what remained of her charcoal and dignity. “Sorry, sorry. I didn’t expect… all of that.” She said vaguely, waving a hand towards Rafe’s naked form. The male smirked, his fine lips tugging lopsidedly upwards. It took Amelia a tick to remember where she was. “Can I get a bigger bit, please? Of charcoal, that is.”

[Amelia]

Nat Hawker made her way to Amelia and gave the blonde a fresh piece of whole charcoal. “Your first time?” She murmured quietly, a playful smirk on her mouth.

”I’m just used to having some warning before a man disrobes before me.” Amelia replied tartly. She wasn’t a prude in the slightest, but there was something a little too primitive about seeing Rafe standing there, completely unabashed at his own nakedness. Had he no shame?

It seemed the answer to that question was a definite no. The male stood in several poses, providing his audience a chance to gaze upon his form from as many angles as he could offer. “Take in the physical body from all perspectives. See how the curves of the shoulder change depending on your viewpoint? The legs look quite different from the back compared to the front, and consider how you might capture this on paper.” Nat circled behind her students, watching them watching her model. Amelia forced her gaze to stay on Rafe’s body, but she longed to look away and blush. “Rafe, if you could stand neutral and forward facing, we can begin our lesson.”

He suddenly took the position of a wooden mannequin, perfectly still with his legs shoulder-width apart and arms hanging loose at his sides. The playfulness left his face and he stood staring ahead with a blank expression.

“Begin with the head, remembering to make out your guiding lines for when we add in the facial features at a later date.” Amelia drew an oval in the top centre of her canvas, then sketched in a horizontal line running across the middle of the oval. Finally, a vertical line was added, dividing the oval into quarters. The eyes, she knew, would be drawn on the horizontal line, with the nose running down the vertical.

She added the body next, which initially took the form of a tall rectangle. When Nat passed her, the artist commented quietly:

“Remember, the width of the shoulders is only slightly smaller than the width of three heads.”

Amelia pursed her lips; the rectangle she had drawn was far too narrow for Rafe’s taut body. She tried again, keeping her grip on the piece of charcoal loose to avoid marking the page too heavily.

[Amelia]

“The legs and arms can be a challenge to those new to drawing people.” Nat continued, pacing backwards and forwards across her studio, “so we compartmentalise the upper arm, elbow, forearm and hand. We do the same for the thigh, knee, calf and foot. Begin with loose shapes, don’t attempt to draw the hand and it’s fingers straight away.”

To start the arms, Amelia draw a small circle attached to the upper corners of the rectangle-cum-body. These would be the shoulders, connected to which she sketched a long sausage-like shape for the upper arm. Another circle was attached to this, followed by another sausage and a final circle for the hands.

For the legs, Amelia repeated herself but increase the scale of her shapes. By the time she finished, Rafe’s likeness was a monstrosity made of curves and angles, rather than muscles and charm. She glanced sceptically to the passing Nat, but the artist returned her cynicism with a warm smile. “Good Amelia. You’ve laid down a good base for the guides, and no we can begin with the rough outline of the body.”

Speaking to the rest of the class, Nat continued. “Start with the head, retracing your earlier sketched guide and connecting this with the rest of the body. The neck is often forgotten about, and many a great portrait has been ruined by a spindly neck. It should be roughly as wide as the head. Bare this in mind as you begin to bring Rafe to life on paper.”

Amelia winced marginally. The head she had earlier sketched was too small now compared to the gangly arms and legs she had added. The neck, in comparison, seemed comically thick.

She was a woman unused to having her own way, and Amelia felt a familiar tingle of brattish frustration bubble up inside her belly. Had she been ten years younger, she would have thrown down her charcoal piece and stomped off in the midst of a tantrum. Her father, if the pig-bastard was still around, would criticise Nat for being a poor teacher – it wouldn’t be his daughter’s fault that she couldn’t draw a perfect likeness of the man before her. In fact, Cliff Trisswell would also probably claim that Rafe was deformed, and that his daughter’s sketch was inaccurate because she had drawn an anatomically correct man, which he simply was not.

As a child, Amelia had believed her father’s demanding and harsh manner was simply evidence of his love for her. If Amelia had a problem with the world – a girl had pulled her hair, the dress she wanted was out of stock – it was the world that a was change, not her. She had existed in a delightful realm where the world, dough-like and malleable, changed around her. Bespoke made dresses, more expensive and lovely than any of her friends’ garments, would appear out of nowhere, and the parents of mean boys and girls would find themselves suddenly without employment. It was a world where what Amelia wanted happened almost instantly, and certainly after a pout of her lips.

And then her father had left, unashamedly after committing adultery with a woman the same as age Amelia. He had destroyed that perfect world, and dumped Amelia into a land where she mattered just as much as everybody else. Her requests were utterly ignored, and if she wanted a dress, she had to pay for it herself.

Had her father loved her? She thought he had, once upon a time. She resented them now, but daughter and father had once shared many, many happy memories together. They were all tainted now, destroyed by his despicable actions. And perhaps why she hated him so; it wasn’t just the future he had stolen from her, but the past as well. That perfect childhood had been the preamble for heartbreak and abandonment.