portals- the short story behind the paintings
Natane could feel the cool on her cheeks, it was the first cold front of the year and she wanted to take advantage of the ability to run, play, scream at the wind, it was her best friend. Perhaps if Mina had heard this, she’d be jealous, but Mina was busy with other things this time of year. Her small town was notorious for its emphasis on football, it ushered in the autumn and was as much a signifier as fallen leaves, crisp apples, cardigan button-ups, and the cool breeze that Natane followed to her favorite spot.
The water was only part of a greater symphony of the woods, it was the tie that bound the whole cacophony of bristling leaves, cicadas, crickets, and Natane’s whistling wind friend together. Although not the loudest of all, the creek was the thing that drew Natane most to this spot. As she lay on the bank and settled into her normal routine, she thought she heard a yip close by. Looking through the brush, she spotted a small dog, happily skipping through the leaves. “Wait up, Crosby!” said a young boy in the distance. “Yip yip yip!!” proclaimed the little dog, as Natane appeared to Crosby.
“Crosby, I told you to slow down and wait for me boy! I hate running after you like this all day, specially since I gotta work later…” The boy noticed her suddenly and stopped in his tracks searching for something to say to her. Before he could utter a greeting, Natane interrupted his silence. “Your dog just sorta came over to me, he’s really cute and animals always come to me but my mom won’t let me have a dog, or a cat. I had a fish for a while but goldfish don’t live long outside of their natural habitat…anyways you must be from Upcastle, because I know everybody in my grade and never seen you around Springcreek Junction, and plus you’re dressed differently than anyone I’ve ever seen around here but there’s nothing wrong with that.” Natane stopped, noticing how the boy’s demeanor had shifted from when she saw him through the trees screaming at his dog. Now, his shoulders slumped, head down, feet uncertain, he looked like a pitiful thing in front of her.
“I’m sorry for asking you so many questions and rambling like I did, everyone always says I talk more than I listen.” Natane recollected the times when her mother chastised her for speaking too quickly, how her teachers gave her exasperated looks for her quizzical nature, how she only felt safe talking to her old friends, Mina, the first fall wind, and of course the creek. She loved the creek most, for it knew all her secrets, the things she felt too ashamed to tell anyone else. “My name’s Bryan”. The pale boy interrupted her thoughts, and she realized the boy sounded a bit different, too, but couldn’t put her finger on what exactly made it so.
The sun set over the horizon of the meadow, as the two children walked and talked and laughed for what seemed an eternity. During their walk, Natane learned that Bryan was in fact, not from Springcreek Junction, nor from Upcastle. He was from an unincorporated town in the same county and lived off a road not far from her grandmother. He lived with his grandfather, an old man who could hardly take care of himself. She learned that the boy’s parents had mysteriously disappeared when he was only a toddler, and he only had fleeting thoughts to serve him as memories of them. She’d also learned that the boy had a wild imagination, and vivid dreams, just like her. He actually regularly dreamed of his parents, as if they were with him, raising him even. They provided guidance to their lonely Bryan, who didn’t even attend school.
-This is a story I wrote around the age of 19, in 2009. I was frustrated with what felt like limited modes of expression in academia and disillusioned by the overall structure of higher learning. I would skip uninteresting classes and write poetry, short stories, doodle, and explore life outside of school. I experimented with weed and explored my burgeoning sexuality. I developed my intuition, and questioned the patterns that held me back and propelled me forward. I experienced unimaginable grief, loss and heartbreak. Portals encompasses all of that, starting off as a childlike story and evolving into something more nuanced that includes my journey through late adolescence and young adulthood as well. As I paint, I find the words that weren’t there before and things become clearer with every work.