Earlier chapters

by Mike Schwarcz, text and art

On the plane back to Santa Fe, Aisha ran over the numbers one more time. She had earned 4.2 million dollars before expenses. Rachel's commission was 7.5 million, of which Vanessa got seven hundred fifty thousand. Ifty netted 138 million. Not a bad couple of months' work, and a substantial saving over what Christie's or Sotheby's would have charged for Ifty. Not to mention his probable tax savings.

Touching down in Santa Fe, her first call, from the jetway, was to Miguel.
"Hi, I'm back. But I have meetings for the next two days. Can we meet Saturday?"
"See you then. I'm glad you're back."
Her next call was Roger at Peralta Management.
"Are you ready for the tour tomorrow?"
"I am. What time should I expect you?"
"Ten good?"
"Perfect. See you then."

Thursday, Aisha and Roger met, walking the nearly complete site, Aisha asking questions and taking notes. With the Cafe opening delayed, there wasn't much left to do on the rest of the complex. The SpACE showroom and offices awaited furnishings. Miguel's new studio was coming together quickly, though it was currently serving as a waste receptacle for the entire project. Scrap? Put it in the studio.

On Friday, they met at Roger's office, Aisha brought her notes, and together they created a punch list to be completed before an opening date could be set. With that behind her, Aisha was anxious to return to Miguel's studio to resume work on her portrait.
Miguel was focusing on refining his ideas, working up several compositional studies and background possibilities. He was anxious to share them with her. He felt challenged, could he create a painting that reflected how she saw herself? When she arrived at his studio on Saturday, he was already there.
"So, how's the art biz?" Miguel asked
"That would depend on who you ask."
"Well, what does Roger say?"
"He gave me a tour yesterday, it's close to finished. I'll show you around if you like."
"Maybe later. You look great, by the way."
"Thanks, trying to keep it casual."
"You already have too much style for this town."
"Maybe, but I'm more comfortable when I fit in."
Recalling that Miguel had liked her glancing back pose, over her shoulder, she had worn an off-the-shoulder top and, her new go to, jeans.
Miguel brought out the preliminary sketches he had done.
"Tell me what you think of these." He spread them out on a worktable.
"You have been busy," she remarked.
"Yeah, you seem to be on my mind."
She didn't answer, but stared at a background sketch that included a vague, ghostly image of a man.
"Interesting."
"Who would that be?" Miguel asked, pointing. "Or, rather, who would you like it to be?"
She paused—"Mitch, from Baywatch, who else?" She laughed lightly and quickly looked away before Miguel could read her face.
He had caught her off guard, and she was quick to change the subject. "Oh, you got a pillow for the chair, good."
"I want you to be comfortable."
"Here, sit." Miguel gestured to the chair.
Aisha was a little nervous. She felt exposed — her business suit no longer her shield — but, at the same time, giving up control and letting go felt exhilarating. Now Miguel was out of sight, standing behind her.
"What's this, poking up from under your top?" He put his finger on the edge of a tattoo.
"A little secret of mine."
"I see a tattoo. But of what, exactly?"
"A snake, a reminder."
"Let me guess. A man?"
"Yes, a long time ago."
"Okay. Umm, should it, or a part of it, be in the portrait? It's obviously
a part of you in several ways."
"I like to think it's behind me, but, I'd consider it," she answered.
"So, let's see, so far we have Aisha, maybe the snake, and Mitch."
"Correct, so far. Let's shoot a couple of stills like that one sketch you did with the shawl and earring," Aisha suggested.
"The pearl earring pose? It's kind of a blatant rip-off, but we can spice it up with a tattoo and a bare shoulder, right?"
"Right." Aisha pulled the shoulder of her top down to expose more snake, then turned on the stool and smiled back at him. "Like this?"
"Yeah, like that. I have a piece of black velvet to use as a shawl. Could be cool, let me set the lights. Here's the velvet." He tossed her the folded fabric.
She dropped her top as far as possible, exposing the snake's head and fangs, maintaining her modesty, while wrapping it provocatively in black velvet.
Miguel turned on the strobes and camera. He shot two dozen stills of her while directing her poses. He brought the camera to her and showed her the screen. Her dark complexion, with ebony black hair—it was sexy.
"I like this one," she said of number eight.
"Shy you." Number eight showed her demurely glancing downward.
"I like twelve, the level gaze, it's very commanding. Maybe I'll paint both, one for you and one for me?"
They were silent, thumbing their way through the shots again.
"You know what? Number eight it is. Agreed?" Miguel said.
"Eight it is, Aisha, the snake and Mitch, I agree."
"I know you'll tell me the story sometime, I don't know if I can express it unless I understand it."
"Soon, I promise."
Miguel needed to change the subject. Looking at the camera screen, he felt the hand tremble again as he got close to her.
"So, what's up with the project? How's Roger?"
"We are very close to setting an opening date. In fact, I'm going to sit down with Cece and SpACE and iron that out hopefully next week."
"How far out are we?"
"Roger thinks they can be done with everything but the Cafe in two weeks."
"That soon, wow."
"You know, your 'Dear, Deer, Dead' series is going to be the backbone of the premiere, right?"
"Not officially, no."
"Well, now you know. I'm going to be dragging Cece back to the office, also. It's time she gets to work on the premiere."
"It'll be good to see things happening again. Been at a kind of standstill for months."
"The premiere should be on the 1st of November. It's a Friday, and the day between Halloween and the Day of the Dead. What could be more perfect?" Aisha looked up at him.
"That is perfect!" he agreed.
"Have you been to the complex recently?"
"No, the last time Cece and I went, the roof was missing; that was a while ago."
"You really need to let me show you the new SpACE and your studio. Let's go, right now. The painting can wait." She took his arm and pulled him to the door. Headed around the corner and up the street to the newly finished complex. "Okay, okay." He could hardly refuse.

Once there, Miguel had to ask himself why he hadn't shown more interest in the project. Now it was done for all intents and purposes. Cece's original Galleria de Arte Santa Fe, on the corner, was to be the future cafe that would anchor the half block that was now SpACE Gallery.
"This is epic. I can't believe I was so distracted that all this happened under my nose."
They toured the display areas, secure lockers, and office spaces.
"So, where's my studio?"
"It's a little more than a junk pile right now. But come, follow me."
She showed him a large room, beautifully illuminated by skylights, and full of scrap lumber, drywall, and assorted beautifully lit discard appliances.
"I don't know who comes up with this crap. It's like one of those restaurants where the kitchen is open to the dining room, with the kitchen staff on display. It's nuts," Miguel said.
The vast window allowed viewing from almost anywhere. There was also a corridor passing in front of the window, where people could stand and peer in.
"I don't like this. I'd feel like I was in the zoo. Sorry!"
"There won't be hundreds of visitors per day. It's not MeowWolf."
"Can't I just keep the space I have. I like it fine?"
"We'll see."
"The rest is awesome though, it's actually happening."
"You doubted me?"
"It's more like Sara wanted me to doubt you."
"I understand. She didn't like me much, did she?"
"Not much," Miguel said.
"Seen enough? We can go back to the painting if you want. Nothing more to do here, really."
"Yeah, let's go do some real work, in a real studio." Miguel said.

"Let's call for some lunch. What do you like?" Aisha suggested.
"Whatever you want. Call Tomasita's. It can be your introduction to authentic American Mexican food," Miguel suggested.
"Huh? Is that a thing?"
"You liked the brisket tacos we had that time, right?"
"Right. They serve those?"
"I think so, give them a call."
Miguel was still fussing with the camera equipment. When the food arrived, they ate in the lounge area.
"See, it's comfortable here. Nobody would want to watch us eat at the other place."
"I understand. I'll work on it, just give me some time."
"Okay, thanks. So, I have another stupid question for you."
"What now?" Aisha played at being annoyed, but loved that he was this curious.
"Have you ever been, or are you now, married?"
"No and no. I'm not that easy," Aisha laughed.
"Meaning?"
"I'm not easy to get to know. Men in New York, and even more so in London, all seem to be clones of one another. Rather uninteresting from my perspective. Unlike you, who actually seems to think he already understands me."
"I seem to remember Cece relating something along the same lines to me when she got back from New York. I think the exact words were 'They all think they are Sir Galahad, but none of them can ride a horse'."
"That's hilarious. But seriously, when every single conversation centers around material goods, real estate, clothes, jewelry, art, or automobiles, and every sentence begins with 'My' or 'I', my eyes glaze over."
"My kind of girl, I feel the same way." Miguel said.
"Okay, my turn to ask a stupid question."
"Shoot."
"Any Tattoos?"
"Sure, one, but you have to look close." He held out his wrist.
She looks. "A dot?"
"That's my point about tattoos, the smaller the better."
She looked up at him without releasing his wrist. "You are so weird."
"Didn't I mention that? But thanks."
"Does the snake have company?"
"No, I agree one is enough."
"Any other pets, beyond the snake?"
"No, no pets."
"Me either."
"Can I have three guesses at who could be the snake?"
"Stop it, it's not a game show."
"Okay, sorry."
"So what's your procedure for painting the picture?"
"Once I have a canvas prepped and underpainted, I'll sketch it out in charcoal. Then I start laying down layers of translucent colors.
"So I don't have to sit for hours while you work?"
"You can if you want to. I wouldn't mind."
"You're mainly working from the photograph?"
"Not really, I use the outline from the photo, scaled up to canvas size. I then need to accurately establish reference distances between key points of your features, so it ultimately looks like you. It sounds obvious, with a portrait, the only thing that really matters is that it looks like the subject."
"Wasn't it Sargent who said, A portrait is a painting with something wrong with the mouth? Fair warning —It better look like me! Aisha poked him in the ribs."
They spent the rest of the afternoon discussing everything under the sun. He related to her on so many levels and was more than willing to drop his usual guard to get to know her better.
He was fascinated with their life matrixes, their misalignment of time while sharing common values.
She gave up her youth for school and a successful career. While in his case, childhood became a substitute for a real career. She wants to relive her youth, he wants financial security for his retirement. It was like they were polar opposites. Didn't they say opposites attract? He was starting to think so.

To cross connect at this juncture in their lives seemed to be fate as much as anything else. Could it be that they were meant to be together?
"I admire you. You kept your eye on the prize all those years, stayed focused, and now you're reaping the rewards." Miguel said.
"That was fine, until you reminded me there are other things in life of greater value than money."
"It's weird, you want what I have and I want what you have." They were both more confused than ever.

Questionnaire on the story

To be continued

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