Wall Art

Marit Myhre | 30 | Bisexual | Owner of The Hole | Silver ~Telkie

[maritmyhre-blog]

veravindictive‌:

Vera’s eyebrows rose upwards and she blew out a heavy sigh, “That sounds like too much involvement for my liking. Should my job be the same, I think I would find myself in more binds than not. I rely heavily on my own indifference.” She explained for no reason, eyeing the artworks. “No, thank you.” Vera turned the offer down, “After this, I must go home to a mountain of paperwork and frankly a glass of wine won’t help me get through it, I’m afraid. As much as I wish it would some times.”

“And what kind of work is it that you do?” Marit queried. She couldn’t think of many jobs were indifference was an important tool to lean on, though heavens knew there was much about the broad world beyond Kingsholm that the girl never bothered to think about. She was more comfortable residing in her little bubble.  When her offer was turned down there was no upset or disappointment. She’d offered because it was polite to reward effort given to a cause, her parents had raised her to know how to exude manners in and around her shyness. “Of course, I understand. The business side of this gallery can drown me in paperwork sometimes. I wish you luck with your mountain and that the world holds off all distractions so you can work in peace.”

[maritmyhre-blog]

margotlindberg‌:

          “A gallery? Don’t worry – that’s never going to happen. I know absolutely nothing about art. I’ll rather come by here and check out your display when I feel the need for a little bit of art.” A laugh escaped her lips, head shaking slightly. “A drink? I would never say no to that.”

“You’re certainly welcome to swing by anytime. I think some people come and barely look at the art itself...they sit on a bench and read, just soak up the quiet” A nostalgic bittersweet smile crept across her features. “When I was a little girl it was always my dream to create a quiet space that could be whatever a person needed it to be.” Moving towards the gallery door, Marit put up the “out to lunch” sign and locked the doors. “Good, I never say no to drinks either. I’m Marit, by the way.”

[make-a-meme]

Send some hearts to tell my muse how yours feels about them.

❤️: Wants or is in a romantic relationship with them.

💛: Loves them platonically.

💚: Is a little jealous of them.

💙: Feels pretty indifferent towards them.

💜: Finds them sexually attractive.

💖: Finds them aesthetically attractive.

💗: Finds them romantically attractive.

💞: Feels attracted to them, but can’t work out if it’s platonic, sexual, or romantic attraction they’re feeling.

💝: Looks up to them as a role model.

💓: Is intimidated by them, but wants to be friends with them.

💔: Hates their guts.

💘: Doesn’t really like them, but doesn’t flat-out hate them either.

[maritmyhre-blog]

zhaomorgenstern‌:

There was a flower, a houseplant, that Zhao loved very dearly. It was named Amazon shield in some parts of Scandinavia, or Alocasia Amazonica in Latin. It originated from tropical Southeast Asia, and part of why he loved it was its beautiful leaves; deep green accentuated by whitish or light green leaf veins, and, in some cases, the leaf colour appeared as an almost purple-green. But while beautiful to look at, one must take great care with them as they are no ordinary plants, and the roughly serrated leaves would to fold and bruise if touched. Sometimes, around people who wouldn’t stop touching the soft leaves, the Amazon Shield would whiter and eventually die. Despite all this, Zhao had never considered it to be a weak plant. It wasn’t about weakness at all. Some things, some people, needed their space, and the consequences of forcing yourself inside that space could be devastating. They were made to be admired from a distance, never to be touched – no matter how much you wished to. “It’s a tough baby plant,” he said, “you don’t have to worry about it.” He walked over to the door, leaning against the doorframe as he watched Marit grabbing her things. “It’s getting colder,” he noted, gaze drifting to the darkening sky outside the window. “And darker… Did you bring your scarf?”

“Good, because I’m starving,” she mused, coat winding around her frame. Marit welcomed the cool winds of fall and winter with relish. Any excuse to button up, to wear more layers, to stay indoors and be lazy. People didn’t try and invite you out as much when it was colder. “Mhm,” she answered, pulling out her favorite scarf, maybe not so coincidentally a dark plant like green with tiny flowers embroidered along the bottom. She’d never say out loud that it reminded her of him, that she wore it to keep him close, but she imagined he knew it anyway. Purse slung over her shoulder, plant carefully guarded against her frame she dimmed the majority of the gallery lights and fell into step beside Zhao naturally, easily, pausing to lock the door once they made it to the sidewalk. “You pick where we’re going. It was a good day, but busy and my brain is fried. How was your day?” When she was in a good mood she always moved beside him just close enough to almost barely touch, body language subconsciously arching towards him like a plan grows towards sunlight. “How was your day?”

[maritmyhre-blog]

kjacksel‌:

There was a beat at the moment where KJ thought that the blonde didn’t hear her. She thought about repeating what she said, but instead, maybe it was easier to slink away. KJ was about to take a quiet step back when the woman spoke. Raising her brows, the Silver looks to the painting, then to the stranger. “No. Not an artist. Not by a long shot.” A long time ago she tried taking the artistic route as a way of therapy. Turning pain into beauty, as it were. Though, at times, and rather unexpectedly, KJ’s hands would begin to shake. A frustrating tic of past trauma’s she couldn’t tell anyone about. “Is this your studio?” KJ asks in order to continue on without awkwardly leaving it at her previous statement.

The one perk about being so crippling awkward herself was that no one else’s awkwardness ever bothered her. The woman’s words were met with a gentle half smile. “Me either. This is my gallery. I did okay with painting, learned about color and technique but everything I tried to paint fell flat, didn’t have any life to it. I’ve come to prefer showcasing people with real gifts to evoke feeling in their artwork.” Slender fingers point to the display, a motherly sort of pride in her voice. “The display is for a new artist, out of town. They’re feeling super shy about trying to reach a wider audience.”

[maritmyhre-blog]

zhaomorgenstern‌:

It wasn’t unusual for Zhao to bring flowers to his inner circle (it was a given gift at dinner parties), but Marit’s home housed the most of them. It felt natural to him, he found a particular flower that made him happy, and he gave it to her in the hopes of it having the same effect. Granted,  his special bond with the plant usually enhanced their effect plenty, but you didn’t have to be a Greenwarden to enjoy a good flower. He lingered between her and the flower, smiling as she repeated the name in Japanese. And then she smiled. He had waited for that smile all day, it had made the hours of uninspired discussion with the visiting botanist from Osaka worth it. “I’m sure it’s going to love it there,” he said, his own smirk lingering as her quick smile faded. “Is there anything else you need moved here before you can close up?” He wanted to ask her to go out for dinner with him, but he’d prefer to not stress her.

It was an opening, everything he did. Every gesture, every word, was a half opened door that didn’t ask, didn’t demand, just reminded her that he was there and she could open the door to their dynamic as wide as she wanted if she wanted. There were some days where she couldn’t. There were some days where all she had in her was the willpower to let him walk her home, to let her fingertips linger against his for just a moment as she softly said goodnight. Other nights she couldn’t even handle face to face discourse, but kept him up half the night with a phone call or a text message. Today though, today had been a good day, she felt more person shaped than usual, and when Zhao asked if she had anything else on her to do list, she shook her head, hand reaching for her purse. “No...no I’m ready to go. And I’m actually kind of hungry.” On the good days she didn’t make him do all the reaching by himself. “Will this pretty plant baby be okay waiting through a dinner or should we drop it off at my place before we figure out where we’re going?” This was what happened when you’d known someone as long as she knew Zhao...she knew what questions he wanted to ask and most of the time he knew what answer she wanted to give before she did.

[maritmyhre-blog]

margotlindberg‌:

           “Really?” Margot was a bit surprised, unable to hide the tone that colored her voice as she looked over at the blonde. She didn’t think she’d actually be making the right choice when it came to this. “Well, I think the gold is definitely a great choice. There will be no more coaxing needed if you paint it in those colors.”

“Really,” she answered, confident upturn to the corners of her lips. “Now don’t go taking that good eye and opening up a gallery across the street to compete with me. Cause i would be worried.” She waggled a finger in faux chastisement. “I will, however, happily buy you a drink.”

[maritmyhre-blog]

joaquin-vasquez‌:

Joaquin didn’t seem like the artistic type, but he learned a thing or two from his mother. Even though she was an architect, she was still very much involved in art and design. A young and curious Joaquin would often times go into his mother’s studio and ask her questions about what she did. Eventually, his trips to her studio dwindled to a stop as he got more involved in his father’s work, something he would regret in the future. Joaquin waved his hand at the woman. “I don’t think my opinion really warrants a free drink. Save your money for something more useful like art supplies.”

“It’s more the fact that you were kind enough to stop and offer an opinion at all,” Marit corrected, but decided to leave it at that. After all how many attempts at reward or open doors did she dodge? She did, however, let out a chuckle at the art supply comment. “Would be quite useful in my hands. My lane is showing off other people’s works.”

[maritmyhre-blog]

nina-valdes‌:

Carrying groceries in one hand, Nina was out in Kingsholm trying to run her errands while she didn’t have Sophia around for the day. Looking after her daughter was a big enough task at hand, and sometimes she simply didn’t have the time or patience to multitask. She was on her way back to the car when a familiar voice rang in her ear, before she smirked as she listened to Marit. “I mean, you didn’t have to bribe me with a drink, but since you offered, I can’t say no.” She grinned, before her gaze fell to the display before her. “Hm, I like blue. Gold is too flashy in my opinion, I’ve never been a fan of the colour.”

She wasn’t used to seeing Nina in the daylight. That was a slight exaggeration, but it was true that the majority of their interactions happened after the other woman had tied back one too many drinks. Marit didn’t mind though, the fact that there was a designated Nina emergency sleepover trunk in her living room with pjs and blankets for the pull out couch almost felt comforting. “You got anything cold in those bags?” Marit queried, finger pointing to the bags in her arms. “Don’t want to make anything melt in your trunk during this drink.” She eyed the display again in consideration. “Mmm I don’t always like gold...but if it’s diffused lighting I don’t know...it brings a sunlight and a warmth. The blue though, it’s kind of ethereal, pulls the eye in. I might have to sleep on this....after we get you your drink of course.”

[maritmyhre-blog]

omfgadam‌:

“Uh — does it wait for like… a demigod? Because I’m pretty sure you’ve got the two of us confused,” He wiggled a finger between them, clearly acting as if he was of higher human caliber than the average man. A classic man thing to do, really. Still, taking a seat he immediately invested in her reply. “Ooh, really? Well, why didn’t you say so? What are we up against, maybe we can practice a little. I like being wooed. Go on. Woo me.”

Marit rolled her eyes and groaned, though it was with some level of good natured affection. “You, a demigod? Maybe a quartergod, that’s all I’m willing to give you.” Wiping some crumbs off her hands Marit decided to play into the idea of a little roleplaying, capturing Adam’s face in the imaginary lens of her touching forefingers and thumbs. “Well okay but you have to get into character. You’re a 50 year old entrepreneur with a mansion and a mustache and more money than you know what to do with.”

[maritmyhre-blog]

veravindictive‌:

Vera made a face, showing that she considered the woman’s response about looking for the details, rather than having them presented to her at first glance. “The framework also looks better under blue,” She added after a moment, listening to the woman speak more. Nodding, Vera showed she understood. Or well, acknowledged her hard work. “I’ve never had much natural lighting in my home or office, so I tend to avoid it wherever possible now. I imagine it’s not easy to set up in a window space, but then, the artwork does tend to speak for itself. This is my family’s favourite gallery, we’ve bought many works from here over the years. So you must be doing something right.”

Marit wasn’t the type to preen and puff under a compliment. She didn’t shy away from them either, instead soaking in the words and taking them as advisement, as little pushes that told her she was going in the right direction. “I suppose I like the challenge. And you’re right, the artwork does speak for itself most of the time. It’s why I never work with an artist that i don’t fully believe in all the way to my bones.” She smiled fondly at the display, then turned her attention back to the brunette. “Did you want that thank you beverage then? It can be whatever you’d like.”

[maritmyhre-blog]

shutupstef‌:

“Ah,” He sucked air between his teeth in a gesture of a wince. “That’s unfortunate. But… happens to the best of us, I believe.” Stefan gestured to himself, insinuating that he too misplaced things. Especially if they were important. “My father used to say a forgetful mind is a busy mind and therefore much better than an empty one,” He grinned. “Or, well… Something along those lines anyway. It doesn’t translate to English very well.” Then again, his father was a raging adulterer with a liquor addiction. Not that this woman had to know that though. At her response, Stefan let out sudden laughter. “You know, I’ve never really thought of it like that. Perhaps I should be charging people extra for the service?”

“My dad tries to say things like that with much less elegance,” Marit answered with a small smile. “But can’t a mind be forgetful because it’s empty? To play devil’s advocate.” His laughter felt good, although her own face didn’t shift as easily so that she could join in. “Definitely ... think of all that extra revenue you’re missing out on. That way if you think someone is trying to claim something that isn’t there’s you can add additional fees.” She raised her brows, waggling her finger in his direction.

[maritmyhre-blog]

kjacksel‌:

When KJ wandered into The Hole, she wasn’t expecting for anyone to ask her opinion on a peice of art. She was actually a little bit lost and had come into to ask for direction before getting distracted by the peices in the space. KJ’s eyes drift toward the blonde who stand in front of a painting, looking at it with inquisitive eyes. Slowly, KJ moves to stand beside the moment and silently looks over the work of art. Her hands tuck into the back pockets of her jeans as she rocks lightly on the heels of her feet.  “Why not both?” She asks, now bringing her arms up to cross comfortably in front of her. “I’m not an expert on - ” KJ geastures a hand loosely around the art space, “ - any of this, but, blue and gold go together, right?”

Both? What an intriguing idea. This was why Marit had never excelled at art herself. Oh she’d learned how to sketch, how to paint, the mechanics of it, but she was too clinical in her thinking sometimes and art needed imagination. “I ... like that,” she answered, stepping forward to set both the lights on, the blue as a soft hint of the winter to come sliver along the sides and the gold of autumn center stage. “I love it, it’s perfect. Are you an artist? You certainly have the eye.” Marit didn’t turn to glance at the woman again until after the questions were complete, always a little late in her social moves.

[maritmyhre-blog]

itsthepheebster‌:

Smiling a little when Marit agreed on the gold, her expression turned to a full on beam when she asked about the globes. Turning to glance down at the box, Phoebe felt a rush of inspiration sweep over her. “Loui said there were a bunch in the back you guys weren’t using, so I thought I’d snatch them up and play with them. You know, there’s so many ways to use different lights for photos, it’s insane. I saw a Buzzfeed article about it once. Not that I’m condoning them, I wholeheartedly want that place at the bottom of the ocean. But,” She paused. “They had a point. So I’m going to use them this weekend for the photography club. Should be fun.” She finished explaining then, smiling at Marit all over again. “What about you? What’s all this for?” She gestured out in front of them at the gold lit display.

“When are you going to let me show your photos in a gallery installation, huh?” Marit asked, one hand on her hip and a slow shake of her head. “I swear you say the kinds of things I want to type out and turn into an inspirational moodboard, or see quoted in a book.” When Phoebe gestured to the window Marit swelled with a sense of motherly pride only other artistic types could understand. “New artist, semi local, lives a town over. Doesn’t think his landscapes will sell but he decided to take a chance on putting his paintings in my hands. I think he’s got potential for big things. I’ve never seen so much humanity painted into fall leaves and rolling hills before.”

[maritmyhre-blog]

bentenilsson‌:

Bente had been on her way to Nilsson & Sons offices when someone called out to her. Looking up from her phone where she had been checking today’s schedule, she glanced from the blonde to the gallery’s window display. She narrowed her eyes in thought, before responding: “Hmm…I would say gold. Blue reminds me of tacky nightclubs. Gold is more…artistic.” She flashed the other woman a smile. “It fits far better with the display as well.”

Marit didn’t know much about night clubs, having never ventured into one herself, but she could imagine the idea of tacky blue lighting in a space. “It definitely brings out the warm tones in the larger painting,” she mused, peering in at the window display and considering the lighting before settling on the gold. “Thank you for taking the time to share your opinion. Drink is on me, as promised. Did you want a cafe type drink or a bar?”

[maritmyhre-blog]

margotlindberg‌:

          “In that case I feel much better already,” Margot admitted, a soft chuckle escaping her lips. Wrapping her arms around her waist, she waited for the options to be displayed. She wasn’t usually the best at making decisions, but she really tried to figure out which one she liked more before the blonde came back out. “I think I really liked the gold one better. Especially now that we’re going into fall it kind of… I don’t know, just gave the whole thing a very wonderful glow.”

Her own eyes went with dreamy focus towards the display. She’d favored the gold herself for exactly the same reasons. Warm displays pulled the eyes, they made people want to walk up to get a hit of emotional warmth. “That’s exactly what I was thinking,” she mused, shooting the brunette a pleased smile. “Just had to do a poll though...my eyes are used to looking for excuses to look at art...other people need some coaxing.”

[maritmyhre-blog]

“Are you sure you’re okay?”

Marit knew that she was a baseline of somber and quiet. Of course there were days where she descended into real darkness, where she was not okay in a way where she could barely function. So when people like Vivian asked her that question with genuine concern, she took the time to really contemplate herself. “I am...I’m okay. It’s been an okay day,” she answered with an assured nod. “You know how they say some people have resting bitch face? I just have...resting sad face, I guess.”