Gallery: Queen of Hearts

[Vae]

Vaeltia nodded at the brunette’s words. “That is under the assumption that he had not. As time tends to claim all things eventually. Pages, notes, they all become lost at one point in time or another. There is nothing to say that he didn’t write a statement on his painting.”

Vaeltia shrugged. “And it might have been a larger painting trimmed down to the size we now see it today.” she said drawing a box in the air with her hands.

“Of course, things were painted slower then, much more pre-sketches and shifting between model and studio. Things were different, add on to that the medium in which it was painted or the fact that the smile does not reach the woman’s eyes.”

She nodded. “Yes, there is no surviving artist statement for that particular work, bur sometimes, for instance: Diego Velazquez’ Las Meninas the artist statement is contained within the work itself.”

[Princess]

Hearing the other conversation but resisting the urge to intrude, she visibly leans towards the argument over artists' statements and the Mona Lisa; There was a certain satisfaction in striking down contrary Muses. Inspirational hegemony aside, she returns her wavering, drunken attention to Martha and Dillon.

"Indeed, let's look around a bit. What do you think of Artists' statements? I find it fascinating to see the glimpses of someone explaining their own actions, but I always wonder if they are entirely honest. Or self aware, for that matter. It's all so much idle curiosity, but it's fascinating. Left or right, to start?" Her speech leaves no space between sentences, but her wondering eyes and shifting stance expresses ambivalence about what exactly she is doing. The higher functions of her brain seem to have distracted her cerebellum just a bit - or possibly that had to do with the whiff of distilled grains and berries mingling with her flowery perfume.

[Heath Moore]

After retracting his hand, Heath nodded, quite fascinated by all this. "Wow, you don't say," he remarks in the brief pause between speakers. "So Da Vinci trimmed down the canvas? Maybe she lost a lot of weight after he started the piece," he quipped with a snicker. "Guess that's one for the mysteries. Say, didn't that painting get stolen or something at some point some years ago?" he asked curiously. If anything it had made the painting even more famous.

[Martha Villiers]

"Left!" Martha enthuses. She's wondering a great deal about Mary. "Certainly left..." she nods to confirm her instinct.

"I believe an artist can make a statement...but it must be authentic. I don't hold any regard for artists who claim to make a point with their Art when clearly they have only cynical intentions...or fraudulent ones." she frowns a little. "There is, therefore, much in the contemporary art scene to hold in contempt. Equal contempt to that in which these so-called artists hold their bewitched and foolish audiences."

"If an Artist must say something, and, of course, they needn't always. An artist may also simply illustrate a book, for example, with no less skill or commitment than an exhibitor at a salon, yet; I would ask of an Artist to let their work be Pure. Uncontaminated by fraud. Untainted by compromise. Let it have genuine voice...even if the voice is Puckish in intention...frivolous even...Art for Arts sake is just as worthy as any allegorical triptych...so long as it has action and inspiration as its root! That would be part of my manifesto for Art, at least!" she smiles happily. Peering to Mary over the rims of her spectacles, as if inviting her own thoughts on the matter.

[Princess]

Mary looks to Martha asking "So you're less a fan of performance art? Or just when it's not clearly labelled?"

She pivots her head to the ceiling in contemplation, the rest of her body adjusting as the heft of her noggin throws her just a tad off. One foot twists around the floor as she contemplates the meaning of Martha's words, continuing, "What if the artist's genuine voice is simply, 'Hey, look at me,' though. Or to appease an audience. Or would you express discontent at Raphael's 'harlots, peddling beauty at the feet of the mighty?' It begs the question of what really constitutes fraud, doesn't it?"

Taunted by Heath's voicing of an incomplete analysis of Art, the know-it-all, alcoholically empowered Muse can no longer resist the urge to intrude on a conversation. If they didn't want me to speak up, they shoulda been quieter, she might have thought, if she cared at that moment about justifying it to herself in the least. She answered Martha first, but couldn't help but swing towards the other conversation and holler to Heath and the woman he spoke with ( Vaeltia ), speaking at some volume or other, the specifics of which she didn't particularly care about at that moment, "The trimming down was just to reframe it. They never removed any part of the painted surface. And it was stolen more than once."

[Martha Villiers]

Martha was about to reply and happily engage in wider discussion of fraud in art but the raising of the issue of the theft of the Mona Lisa utterly deflected her. "Stolen more than once...?"

There was a horrifying moment when Martha almost recalled the sheer excitement she saw in Paris when Perugia stole it and how she had watched, entranced, as the strange Bertillion himself had ineffectually studied the scene of the crime. Luckily, she stopped herself in time and just held tighter to Dillon's hand. Offering him a shy smile before asking;

"Goodness me! I know of Perugia...but was...was there was another incidence of theft?"

To judge by her tone, Martha was genuinely fascinated by this news.

[Chris Wooding]

Chris is surprised, perhaps slightly shocked, by the people here. He had forgotten how they have a different social etiquette: none. Another woman jumped into their conversation, and Chris actively does a step back. He raises his eyebrows when looking at Ciara Maskelyne. Maybe it was best to let the others talk.

What the Priscus of Shadows does, is giving the Herald and Reeve a nod of recognition. Next time he should save the socializing for fellow Kindred.

Even as Hierophant I sometimes forget our Requiem serves more purpose than to talk with... food.

[Ciara Maskelyne]

Ciara can only smile at Vaeltia's mention of all things being lost with time. The two women would just have to disagree about that...

"As long as there are art critics and historians there will be discussions of the meaning behind works of art.

I'm afraid we will just have to agree to disagree on the meaning of art, Ms." Which, to Ciara, proved her whole point about art in the first place...

She then turns her attention to Heath. "Indeed it was, Mr Moore. Though there are those that believe the original is still missing and the painting in the Louvre is merely a highly-skilled forgery. That the reason it was missing for so long was to allow the forger time to make sure the copy was perfect."

[Heath Moore]

When Mary voices herself to the group Heath was talking to, Heath could only raise his eyes heavenward and sigh. "Everybody, this is Mary. Mary, everybody. Isn't she cute?" he said, albeit a bit mockingly and moves to put his arm around her, pinching her cheek lightly as if to illustrate the point. Of course she's free to dodge away from his gesture.

To Ciara, Heath says, "I thought I had heard something about that. To be honest that makes the whole thing sound pretty interesting. And I thought I had to go to great lengths to get a woman to smile. Some poor artist has to take years just to make a painted lady hundreds of years old crack a smile."

If Mary had let him tease her, he releases her now. "So you being a good girl, Mary? Who're your friends?" They didn't hold a Mein that he could see, so he assumed they were some normals that Mary had been hanging out with or had met while visiting the gallery.

[Dillon Connery]

Hazel eyes widen just slightly, and an eyebrow creeps upward, as Mary 'gracefully' interjects into Heath and company's conversations like only a drunk woman can. The amused half-smile Dillon wears almost perpetually never wavers. In fact, it brightens just a bit. Clearly entertained by the antics, and the comedian's reaction.

"Martha, our new acquaintance knows Heath Moore," he says with playful amazement to the little creature at his side. Though framed for her, the words are loud enough for all, as a bit of an ice-breaker.

The man had managed to gather a pair of vampires to him already, but it can't be helped.

Sticking his hand out toward the man, but aimed slightly for the middle ground between Heath and his little blond friend so that either or both could accept, Dillon widens his smile in greeting. "Hi. Dillon. This is my friend, Martha. Nice to meet you."

A knowing glance and returning nod to Ciara and Chris is given. Dillon doesn't want to be rude, and there's no sense in pretending not to know one another. But there's not much point in broadcasting it, either. So he leaves the decision up to then. Still wondering about Martha's squeeze of his hand, and her insight into pure versus fraudulent art.

Dillon had been preparing a Gangrel-defying observation and question on the relationship between selfless statement, commercialism, and how satire interacts with both fields when they all took a detour for the Mona Lisa.

So the Reeve settles for looking pretty and meeting new people. Two things he's had seventeen decades of practice at.