Brain Curd #232
Brain Curds are lightly edited daily writing - usually flash fiction and sometimes terrible on purpose.
“Hmm…” Alonso tilted his head. “I think it’s a walrus.”
He and his friend Fausto stood in an art gallery in front of an abstract piece, trying to decide what it was.
“No, no…” Fausto argued. “It’s definitely a lighthouse.”
“A lighthouse? You’re crazy.”
“Really, though, look -” He pointed at a shape near the bottom. “That’s the cliff edge, then that part there is the door, and the light is here at the top.”
“I’m not seeing it.”
“I can kind of see it,” said a woman who approached them from the side. “You can even imagine those squiggles as seagulls.”
“Right?” Fausto said. “It’s totally a lighthouse.”
“No, no, those squiggles are too big to be birds!” Alonso protested. “Those are the whiskers! And right next to them are the tusks.”
“But there are no flippers!”
“Walruses are huge, man! The flippers are just beneath the field of view of the canvas.”
“‘Field of view’? You think just because you know some kinda art terminology, you know better than me?”
“I can see the walrus there too,” said the woman. “Very clever. Never thought of that.”
“How can it be both?” Fausto asked.
“Yeah, it can’t be a walrus and a lighthouse at the same time!” Alonso agreed.
“Sure it can - and more. To me, it looks like a palm tree on a tropical beach, with white sand and a bright blue sky.”
“But…” Fausto scratched his head. “Lady, those colors aren’t even in the painting.”
Alonso crossed his arms. “Are you colorblind or something?”
“Obviously one of us must be right.”
“You can’t be right,” the woman said. “Because you can’t be wrong. Art is in the mind of the beholder.”
“That’s nonsense.” Alonso replied.
“Yeah, what do you know?” Fausto asked.
The woman put her index finger to her chin. “Well, I guess you could call me an expert on this piece… since I painted it. But I don’t want to distract you from it for too long. Enjoy yourselves, boys.” She walked away to speak with another guest about a different painting.
Alonso and Fausto looked at the painting again. Both of them tilted their heads.
“Yeah, I guess I can see the palm tree.”
“Me too.”
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