BROKEN TOY

So Monday came along and it was a whirlwind of endless destruction, as I was getting my paintings labeled and packaged for the solo exhibition. Ah yes, Playground, we called it in the end; what a magnificent way to start a new page. It´s amazing we could this thing arranged so soon. This meant, however an important evolution. Within a few weeks I would ´hop´ into a new studio. It was getting too crowded here anyway, not to mention more expensive.

Edith here wasn't so hot about the idea at the beginning, so I carefully proposed her to move. I could say we kind of grew up in the same neighborhood. She met me at a show, but then everything happened so fast. How could you miss such a beautiful when you have it in front of you? Her bangs hid those sweet blue eyes that charm Skinny, but not that skinny; she was all natural. She´s not that sensual enough; I would say cute and strangely funny. Yet she wasn´t by herself exactly; she had come with some friends on a weekday. It was about three years ago.

Of course when one is a newcomer to the art world they have this sort of feeling like a painting or any manifestation is like a puzzle waiting to be solved. Some use their few skills and try to interpret it while others study their whole lives. But no matter how much time you´ve spent beating your brains out, even if you think you know the artist´s work he comes back and surprises you once again. Expect the unexpected, just like Ava told me. And Edith was analyzing each and every one of the pieces as they were ink blot tests. She gestured too much, that´s why I couldn´t help noticing her that night.

So what I did is that I patiently observed her making absolutely no noise. The girl exclaimed, as she was watching one called Home, which was oil and pastel abstract composition that resembled a hole.

"This is truly amazing, I´ve never seen anything like this," said Edith to herself. And I whispered, "I´m glad you liked it, because I made it..." She turned around and was even more amazed; she must have thought I wasn´t able to come up with something like that.

"But you see the merit of this composition is the sensation of depth that it gives you, it doesn´t stay all flat," I continued trying to make a fulfilling conversation. "I´m Black; Adrian Black by the way. The guy who made this is insane by the way, so you should be careful if you ever stumble upon him."

"And just how insane is he, huh?" asked Edith crossing her arms.

"Mad as hatter, but then again aren´t we all mad here?" I said.

"I´m Edith Paige, insane boy..."

She was a freshman at NYU. She wasn´t snobbish or anything like that, she was like an open book; no mysteries. Still, one she finally confessed one day she had chosen psychology because a part of her was broken. And her frailty besieged me. Broken people always follow me for some shitty reason I can´t explain.