Painting Horses [Kellyn Kye]

Character sheet · by **Lenz** on February 20th, 2014, 5:40 pm

Lenz couldn’t help but hear a disgruntled remark from the blonde, but she chose to ignore it. It was just laughable that she hadn’t been able to recognize what she had been saying and not understand it. Of course she was accusing Lenz and it was as clear as day. The fact that she didn’t accept it and was instead stuck in denial in her own little world left a bad taste in her mouth.

People in Sunberth were rather distasteful people, she thought as she took a deep breath and tried to calm herself.

The redheaded woman’s eyes glazed over for a few chimes, all words that Kye said were garbbled. Her voice might have been rough and possibly angry, but Lenz didn’t understand anything she spoke of.

Some people might never change, she thought again as she maintained her position at a moderate distance from the woman’s side.

When Kye started mentioning Lenz’s interpretation of a proper world, her hearing became more attentive, her posture gradually straightened and her breathing slowed to more precise gasps.

“See, I just really don't get that. Showing kindness and consideration... people don't do that. Why should they? I've never known anyone to care for me. And I've not much cared for anyone else. And the world keeps going."

There was something Lenz happened to catch in Kye’s voice. It was sumpathy, empathy and even possibly… feeling of some sort. Her entire body itched as she fantasized about the possibilities of the hint that had lied behind Kye’s voice.

Had something happened in her past for her to have personal experience in the matter? Had her beliefs and hopes been drained away from such terrible situations she had been thrust into the middle of? It was all overwhelming and for a few moments, Lenz felt sincerely sorry for the woman.

She had lived in such a terrible place for so long that she had no sense of true happiness, and that was something no one needed to have assumptions of opinions about. That was the cold, hard truth.

"I'm like as not to be a shkye teacher. I’ve never taught anyone but myself before. So this is new."

There were two things that made Lenz’s heart skip a beat. Her sentence was all wrong and it made her shiver as she replayed her new instructor’s words around and around inside her head.

Firstly, the vulgar term ‘shyke’ sent the butterflies lodged inside her stomach into a tumult. She had high disliking toward any unnecessary foul language. She couldn’t, however, call anyone out on it. It was a free world when it came to speech and she had to respect that.

Secondly, the idea that Kye had never taught anyone before made the redheaded female sigh in defeat. Either this was going to be disastrous or someone was going to get frustrated. The two just weren’t compatible.

Lenz didn’t understand why she kept trying to get through the other woman. She didn’t understand why she kept trying to become friends. She didn’t know why she just didn’t back off and return back to her Tent and spend some quality time with Ipisol. She didn’t know anything at this point. She constantly questioned her sanity as to how she had managed to come to such a place as Sunberth and manage to stay or want to stay longer.

This was a place of misery, violent and the harshness and cruelty of the residents who lived here.

“Have you ever done any art before?"

The inquiry was directed toward her, but her mind was elsewhere. Snapping back to the current moment, the reality she was forced to live in, Lenz shook her head from side to side. She had never had much experience in art.

She wrote and composed pieces of poetry, but that was a different kind of art. This style of art was something she hadn’t even laid her eyes on, but she was interested in beginning.

She was all for broadening her imagination, but she was tentative about starting her interest with such a woman as Kye. Something gave her a bad feeling, the outcome turning for the worse, but she kept hope.

Hope, something Kye always titled her head barely and rarely at the mention of. It must be a foreign word to her, or just a word that was hardly used.

"Where do your interests lie?” Again, the question was directed towards her. She willed herself to pay attention. Kye was offering something she held dear to her heart and Lenz was just brushing it off as if it meant nothing to her.

“I don’t know,” she admitted, shrugging.

“In scenery?” she continued, hardly paying attention to her new student. “In animals, people, faces? In objects? If you've never much drawn, objects are the best place to start."

Lenz gracefully took the stick of charcoal and the piece of paper Kye had generously ripped out from her booklet.

“I think starting with an object would be a good place to begin,” she added, making sure she was clearly heard. Her voice came off like song. She sighed inwardly, thanking herself that the raise in her voice didn’t come off as one of disregard and annoyance.

She needed to practice.

“…you should first do is look around for something good to be drawing.” And that is just what Lenz planned to do.

Her head craned to look over things and then slumped to check things below. She titled it to one side and then strained it to try to see around her shoulder. This was all before she plopped to the ground again, her legs crossing over one another.

This might not be the best place to draw, but what was? Life was’ a bowl of fruits handed to you willy-nilly. You had to make time, you had to make with what you had unless you searched and searched with hope until you found something better.

This was something Lenz thought Kye would know by now, but apparently she didn’t.

Out of the corner of her eye, the woman with hair as striking as the colour of fire saw a horse shoe used to replace old or beaten ones on the underside of the horse’s hoof.

She stood up and walked over to get it. She grasped it in her hand and felt the cold material singe her already cold fingers. The feeling was welcoming and she embraced it with a passion, something she didn’t know she still held inside her.

She brought it back over, hoping that it would do. She set it on the ground in front of the two before sitting down again. She stared at it for a few seconds before glancing back up at Kye.

Lenz took a strand of hair that had escaped from behind her ear and tucked it back into it proper place.

“I know an expert artist has all these tricks up their sleeves, so I hope this particular object will help in bringing out said tricks. Shading, smudging, outlining and what not,” Lenz said, biting her lip subconsciously.

“It also has meaning to me. I prefer to only draw things that had some meaning. You may not, but I find it rather… pleasant.”

That most certainly wasn’t the word she was searching for, but it would have to do. She didn’t care what Kye thought of her anymore or what she said or insulted her about. All she wanted to do was draw and thankfully, that was just what she was going to do.

by **Kellyn Kye** on February 25th, 2014, 11:08 pm

“I know an expert artist has all these tricks up their sleeves, so I hope this particular object will help in bringing out said tricks. Shading, smudging, outlining and what not.”

Kellyn looked down at what the girl had grabbed. It turned out to be an old horseshoe. Not the most exciting option, but workable. More importantly, the girl said that this held artistic value to her; that it had meaning. That was something. Showed that she had been listening. Kellyn took a moment to further appraise the item, checking for merits.

Actually. After a moment of study, it turned out that Lenz? had done well in her choice. The horseshoe was a simple enough subject. Flat and with little obvious detail. This could make things either easier or harder, depending on her student's aptitude, observation, and level of exertion. Easier, because there was less in general to screw up. Little detail also meant having to focus harder and closer to bring out more to draw, which was a plus. However. It depended greatly on how involved the girl was willing to be. Kellyn couldn't make someone see any better than they knew how, not even through instruction. If the girl was unable to notice, say, the tiny uneven bumps and dents dimpling the at-first-glance even surface, the miniscule chip along one corner, the light layering of dirt which differed from place to place in accumulation... well, she would end up with a very uninspired, flat, and disheartening result indeed.

If she could see, though. If she bothered to see. Well. There might be redemption in that, to make up for the careless and directionless 'I don't know' response that had rankled Kellyn earlier.

When the artist spoke it was as coolly and frankly as ever. "If you think I'm an expert artist you certainly do have much to learn." The blonde wasn't one for compliments, intended or otherwise. It was true that she was good at observing and copying. Of drawing what she could see. In fact, she'd go so far to say she was very accurate at that. But that was where her talent ended. She had no ability, at least not yet, to create fully from the mind. As such, abstracts were frustrating for her, nearly impossible. Originality, too, was an issue she struggled with. Besides that, there was much she herself didn't know. Having self-taught through experience meant that certain techniques and styles were beyond her grasp. Probably there were ways of going about art that she had never conceived of.

Be that as it may... "That's beside the point." She chugged on her pipe. "You're overreaching. You said that you have no experience. Because of this, I don't expect to teach you to smudge, which can be an extremely delicate process. You may try it on your own if you like." She shrugged. She wouldn't tell the girl not to give it a shot. But she wouldn't encourage her getting ahead of herself, either.

"If this is the first lesson you've ever received, you can't expect to end up drawing exquisitely by the end. You should expect to be relatively terrible, unless there's some natural talent in you." Kellyn didn't bother to say that she thought not. She herself had such ability, but that came from the Vantha side of the family. It wasn't really something to accredit to herself, or find pride in. It just was. "It would be a better foundation to start at the beginning. That means focusing on lines. Lines themselves can say a lot about mood and especially about placement, and are the simplest and most basic form of drawing. They have the upside of also being able to represent shading, if you wish to attempt that. See?"

As she had been speaking, she'd been quickly sketching a rough form of the horseshoe, as to illustrate. It sat in the corner of the page she'd been using to draw the girl's face. All in all, it was a rudimentary sketch for her to achieve, the object having been chosen for its simplicity, and so took neither a lot of time on her part nor too much effort.

This sketch was notably different from her style from before. It began with a basic outline, focusing on the shape and perspective she had of the horseshoe, and mainly on the lines composing the edges of the thing itself. Little detail had been added. Now, as the other looked on, she added shading. It was not smudging, which was much, much more difficult to get right and had taken Kellyn a whole lot of trial-and-error to learn to balance. This type of shading was not necessarily better or worse; it was, however, easier. It involved drawing myriad little lines in patterns, some darker or lighter depending on the shadow involved, and crisscrossing them to give the illusion of one coherent area of shade. One pattern could be used to represent one texture; another could showcase some other detail.

"The problem with charcoal," she said, focusing with furrowed brow on creating smaller, neater lines, "Is that it's not good for straight, concrete edges. But it's the only artistic utensil I know of that's available in this city, besides paint and brush. That's why, as you may have noticed, I sharpened the edge of the stick to a point. It helps create finer lines. Of course, the edge dulls as you draw, and is apt to need resharpening.

"A sharp edge is necessary for this style. As such, when you sketch, you'll not only want to focus on the image you're attempting to create, but also on the act of creating it." She searched a moment for words to better explain, or give example. "As you mentioned, charcoal smudges easily. So you'll want to keep your arm up off the paper, or your lines will suffer dramatically. Your own movements, too, determine what the picture ends up being. Slower movements are better for beginners. It might also help to try not to lift the charcoal from the paper much; keeping charcoal and page connected encourages a smoother flow and less disruption between eye and sketch. I would suggest for you to start out drawing as lightly as you can. Attempt to make a proportionate shape of the horseshoe to use as a reference. Then, darker lines can be added to develop the contour."

She would go more into lines and the crisscross of shading when it became necessary, if it became necessary. For now Kellyn waited, looking down upon the other's paper. Even a soft outline might take a while for unpracticed hands.

OOCOkay, just some notes. Kellyn's focusing on what is called 'contour drawing,' since it's a beginner's method and more simple. The shading she called crisscross is in actuality called 'crosshatch'. I wanted you to know that OOCly, so that you might be able to look up images if you were confused by my descriptions, or Kellyn's explanation. Lenz herself, of course, wouldn't probably be confused because she can actually see what Kellyn's up to, like what she's demonstrating on her own page.

Character sheet · by **Lenz** on March 12th, 2014, 4:38 pm

The woman made sure to wait, her patience dwindling on the last string there was. She watched with wary eyes, her lips tender from the constant biting she did when she was succumbing herself to the morbid anxiety that enveloped her with malevolent arms.

Her eyes were straining to see any and all expression her new teacher would give off. If there was any ‘tell’, she was sure to sniff it out, and she did. When the woman moved her head slightly to the side, as if observing the object Lenz had given her for any flaws, she made sure to catch it.

“So,” she started, when she was rudely interrupted. Keeping her head high and her hopes at a decent and even level, she proceeded to sit down and wait for the final verdict.

What she received in response wasn’t anticipated. Her initial bearings were construed in different directions, her mind reeling into vulnerable positions. She was prone to rejection at that moment. She had never perceived bettering herself the way others did. Where others worked harder, she shut down, afraid she would disappoint someone else with her foolery.

"If you think I'm an expert artist you certainly do have much to learn."

She did had much to learn. A question popped into her mind like a spring flower crying out for the warmth of the sun’s rays. Why else was she hear, latently pleading to be taught the arts of imagination, creativity and overall, heart and soul of putting thoughts onto paper.

She knew that art wasn’t just about drawing or painting. Art included composition, writing, poetic words floating onto any subject that would allow them to. She had done some things or another, for instance, she sang often. Just the simple act of letting yourself open up to the world around you, spilling out your veins, the blooding rushing through them until they pooled in a puddle at your feet was enough to depict the characteristics or having artistic intelligent.

She was enriched with the techniques, her state of mind prohibited her from having much creativity no matter how much she willed herself to try. She had seen far too much terror, torment and torture. She had been damaged from the inside, out. Her flesh was flawed with mars and scars. Her soul had been ripped from the seams, her heart dissevered from all sense of reality, yet she made no attempt to show those horrid emotions to anyone but herself.

She had caged her feelings behind rusty bars; tied them with rotting rope and strangled them until they begged for forgiveness. She was the master of herself, and now that she had been freed by her own self perseverance, she would not be thrown under the wagon any longer.

“I do,” she whispered, nodding her head in acknowledgment.

She understood that she was weak. She had been weak her entire life. She had needed guidance, a figure head, someone to look up to when things became too hard for her to bear herself. She wasn’t even sure how she could have survived without the aid of her mother or the kindness from her lover.

She was destructible, devoid of any protection from anyone. She couldn’t take care of herself, yet she had for many seasons now. Waiting patiently, she was before she would simply collapse and explode into a tumult of tears.

“But that is why I am asking you to teach me,” she continued, forcing her head to come out of the clouds.

Lenz didn’t mind, nor did she dwell on the fact that her teacher wouldn’t even accept a compliment. She simply dismissed the idea like it was a pestering fly. Kye did so as well, rushing on to begin the first so called ‘lesson’.

"It would be a better foundation to start at the beginning. That means focusing on lines. Lines themselves can say a lot about mood and especially about placement, and are the simplest and most basic form of drawing. They have the upside of also being able to represent shading, if you wish to attempt that. See?"

Lenz would admit she had no such talent. She had been an average female all her life with no special characteristics or traits having been handed down to her by any family members. She was strong willed and hopeful, if this could be considered a talent, but other than that, she was nothing. Another local, by passer, walking down the empty streets of a desolate town with no destination held in mind.

“I see,” she said, observing the way she conjured up images in her head. She could see someone drawing, passion flowing out of their hands with incredulous speed. Determination dampening their brow as they pressed on, without thinking. Their heart beat in rhythm with their strokes, their movements, their penmanship. She watched as if it was a play being performed right before her eyes.

She also found her eyes wavering over the paper Kye had been drawing on. She had started to sketch out a basic demonstration of the horseshoe. Her work was admirable and practically astounding. Lenz’s ‘sketch’ would have looked ten times worse than what was portrayed on the pad!

Kye’s voice abruptly cut into the silence that had set over the two like a dark shroud. Like a hot knife through butter, it severed the quiet that was in no way awkward. Lenz was mesmerized, for she was so quick with her hand. It was as though she were guiding a band or spraying ethereal dust over a barren wasteland. She could see it prosper with the magic, flowers blossoming with power as fluid the water in a stream.

"… you'll want to keep your arm up off the paper, or your lines will suffer dramatically.”

Lenz made a note in her head, checking it off as it lodged itself in one of the chambers in her brain. She would come back to this idea, pluck it out and use it to her advantage when the time was right.

“Your own movements, too, determine what the picture ends up being. Slower movements are better for beginners…” her voice was so adamant it made Lenz quiver with interest. Her eyes were adhesive, glued to the woman’s paper as she continued to draw. Then, she moved up to peer into her eyes.

“…I would suggest for you to start out drawing as lightly as you can. Attempt to make a proportionate shape of the horseshoe to use as a reference. Then, darker lines can be added to develop the contour."

Nodding, red hair fell into her hazel eyes. With her own piece of paper and stick of charcoal in her hand, she retained a better seated posture. Her back straightened dramatically and her head was held high, yet tilted in a fashion so that she could still see what it was she was doing.

She held her arm up so that it wouldn’t smudge the paper as she had been instructed to do so. Then, she lowered the charcoal stick. Her left hand started to touch the stick to the paper as she held her breath.

Her head started to pound with a multidue of negative thoughts. What if she did a terrible job? What if Kye became so frustrated she stormed off, shouting vulgar things towards her about how she would be a terrible artist for the rest of her life? What if she ended up destroying the paper of he piece of charcoal and needed more only to be rejected? It wasn’t hers to ruin. She even felt doubtful she should even be trying this for herself using another person’s utensils.

The thoughts briskly subsided, concentration smothering the pessimism in one fatal swoop. Her attention was drawn to the task at hand as her arm still remained hovering over the paper in a semi-proper position.

She began to draw. Her hand trailed over a small space of the paper, an outline already beginning to form. Lenz only needed to look up a few times, having the image already stuck in her head as if it had been pinned to a wall inside her memory.

The object had lines, it as a shape, it had an outline. It had turns and angles of various shapes and sizes and the holes! Oh, the holes were a new realm of indifference entirely. She was stumped for a moment, trying to figure out how she could draw such a surreal vision.

Anger started to bubble up inside her. Why couldn’t she do anything right? Already she had smudged the top of the horseshoe slightly. Other than that, things only looked average. Normal. Something she didn’t want to be no matter whether it deemed itself a compliment or not. She wanted to be special, unique, unlike all the other people on the planet.

She did not give up, however. She pressured herself to finish the job. She lingered on a few shapes before continuing to the next ones. All the while, she never paused to look up at her teacher to see what she thought of her pupils work.

Frankly, she didn’t care what she thought. She was merely doing this for herself. There was no mood that overruled her sense of persistence. Everything else dissipated. Soon, the stables, the horses, the chairs and the barrels that littered the building all disappeared. The ground, the sky, Kye, they all vanished. It was just Lenz and the paper and charcoal that accompanied her.

It was just her and her thoughts, her imagination, her creativity. She was subject to trying something new, something with heart, something she had wanted to become a part of for a long time, and now, she had. She had succumbed to exert her feelings in a new manner, all because some cranky woman allowed her to.

She felt elated.

Finally, she felt she had finished. She set the stick of charcoal to the side and sat back to observe her work. Immediately she fished out any errors, critiquing them with a fresh set of eyes. She was hesitant to hand it over to receive judgment for her fails, but did so anyways.

“My first try. I may not have talent, but I have heart,” she said, proving herself worthy of having been taught by someone unwilling to teach in the first place.

“That is all that matters to me. Practice will help, but as long as you have a passion, an interest for something… that is what makes a great artist.”

Lenz didn’t care if her words weren’t breaking through the other woman’s thick skull. She made sense, she was being philosophical and she knew it. She could have been a teacher of her own of sorts if she wanted to.

She felt enriched with power. Nothing could strike her down at that moment in time. She could have been struck with stones, someone could smite her by a hammer of the gods and she would continue to fight.

No longer dejected, she was confused by the overwhelming amount of diligence that her emotions depicted. It was just art, overall.

But to her, it felt more than just art. It felt like a release. No longer bottle, all her raging and morbid, disgusted and trivial feelings were flooding out of her body. She had been so much, chained down by her fears and by her past only to let them out in some way.

Sure, she was not cleansed completely of the demons that fed off her soul, but she felt content, if not a little bit better.

And that was all that matter to her now.

OOC :

Character sheet · by **Lenz** on May 4th, 2014, 9:10 am

ooc :

Lenz watched the woman a little while longer, taking in her hair and the way it blew with the breeze. She admired her beauty and was coming to terms with the way she perceived things. Not all people were optimistic and hopeful and after having a riling conversation with this woman, she was without dubious thought that she wasn't necessarily one of hardcore, constant hope and optimism.

As much as she adored being with the woman, she was running out of time.

She looked at the piece of paper again and began to outline the horseshoe, shading in various spots that seemed essential to create the image a more realistic appearance. Once she was satisfied with the way the outlining looked she moved onto the more detailed, smaller things. She made circles and moved her hand up and down the page, stroking the paper and marring it with the black charcoal.

She observed the way she worked, applying more pressure to certain areas to adjust for the amount of darkness and opacity as she had examined Kye doing only moments ago.

She continued to draw for a little while longer before her anticipatory nature and her impatience took its toll on her subconscious feelings. She bolted upright, her back straightening increasingly before she finally maintained enough balance to stand upright.

“I’m sorry for the suddenness of my leaving, but I really must return back to my tent. I have a child waiting for me and I left her alone sleeping. It was nice to meet you,” she concluded with half a heart.

There was no doubt what she had with the woman was a radicle and miraculous experience. It may not have been enjoyable given the hardheadedness and rudeness she had to Lenz, but overall, the redhead loved spending time enhancing her knowledge of the arts of drawing and observing objects to draw said art.

She took one last glance at her horse and noted its safe and structure environment before she leant down to give the woman a hand shake. She then turned on her heel, making sure to bring along the piece of paper with the horseshoe and the remaining charcoal stick with her.

She could use it later in the season or perhaps even next season if she was bored and wanted something to do. With the fundamentals and basics of drawing not clearly defined in her mind, she could have an infinite amount of potential for practicing again.

And she was excited for it.

by **Zandelia** on May 21st, 2014, 9:29 am

Lenz :

Kellyn :

Notes :

Any questions about my grade? Please feel free to PM me at any time. Keep Writing!

Closed Painting Horses [Kellyn Kye]