[ussbansheec] Art Appreciation
- From: Andy Maluhia <CaptainAndy@xxxxxxxxxx>
- To: ussbansheec@xxxxxxxxxxxxx
- Date: Wed, 18 Feb 2009 07:15:55 -0500
_Art Appreciation
_by Aidoaneth tr'Ghaladriel and Darrah Steren
/
"Science and art belong to the whole world, and before them vanish the
barriers of nationality."--Johann Wolfgang von Goethe /
***takes place before 'Kill Shot'
Despite the Federation's claim that it was a repository of art and
culture, in all his years living in its confines Aidoaneth had never
seen so much as a gallery never mind an actual art exhibit as the one
he happened upon there on DSVP. He wandered into the area and allowed
himself a slow smile. It was beautiful! All of it! He'd seen art on
Vulcan but for all their claims of simply mastering passion rather than
lacking it, it was all cold and dead. For a fiery world, the things
they made spoke to him of the dead of winter with no hope of spring.
The art, he thought, lacked the makers' passions.
Here, there were paintings, sculptures, and statues of all shapes and
sizes. Even if he didn't care for the subject matter, most of it spoke
of life and passion. What caught his attention and made him stop for a
second look was a wood carving of a hand. Upon closer inspection, he
noted the detail of the carving, the wood's grain seeming to flow
effortlessly in the same place the muscles would have. The artist, he
told himself, had chosen the material well. Then, there was the item
that appeared to dangle from the hand's outstretched fingers: an ornate
Bajoran earring, also carved from that same piece of wood. The detail
in the earring itself was incredible and the fact that it was from that
same piece of wood?
"Amazing..." he said under his breath as he bent to inspect that
section, hands held carefully behind his back so that he wouldn't be
tempted to touch.
"Do you like it?"
He straightened to see a Bajoran woman watching him with a curious
expression in her blue eyes. "I do," he admitted. "It seems alive,
certainly a better hand than I've seen on some living people."
The Bajoran grinned at that, the smile making her eyes sparkle with
warmth. "Thank you," she said btightly. "You're the first person to
comment on the hand rather than the earring."
"A function of species perhaps," he mused, "though the jewelry does seem
familiar. I've seen it before."
"It's the Earring of Li Nalas," the Bajoran informed him, as if that
explained it all.
Aidoaneth shook his head then gave a barely visible shrug. "No, I mean
that I've seen it before: the real one."
The Bajoran frowned slightly, which made him think it marred a rather
pretty face. "Where? Because only the Navarch's family ought to be
wearing one."
"Ah, that's it then!" he told her. "I remember my son telling me, once
I asked why the man wore such an orate earring, that the chief of
Science aboard his ship came from a very old Bajoran family."
Again, the woman's face lit up as she spoke. "Oh! That must be the
Blessed of the Emissary," she exclaimed. She then offered him something
of a wry smile. "I know a lot of non-Bajorans think we go overboard
with our faith but..."
"But when a figure touched by what you perceive as immanence walks about
on the same ground as you, it is difficult to not be awed," he
finished. "I would like to think that if I met a personification of the
Elements, which does not exist, walked among us, that O would be equally
awed."
"You're not a Vulcan." It was both a question and a statement, spoken
with some embarrassment.
"Not at all," he saifd with a mild snort, "though my youngest son that I
spoke of is half Vulcan." He offered the woman a slight bow. "I am
thoroughly Rihannsu, or Romulan if you will, though I have not walked
under Eisn's skies in many years."
"Darrah Steren," the woman said with a smile as she held out her hand.
He was glad she'd offered her name first. Even after half a life in the
Federation, it still made him uncomfortable to offer his name first but
he offering her own gave him an out. He wondered if she knew the
Rihannsu custom. "Aidoaneth tr'Ghaladriel," he replied as he took the
proffered hand. "I am rather pleased to make your acquaintance since
you are the first artist I've met here in the Federation."
"You need to get out more," Steren teased. "There are many fine artist
and craftsmen out there. Come to Bajor if you've never been."
Aidoaneth hmmphed softly to himself. She was flirting with him and he
found that he liked it. Perhaps if Talibah teased him about it, he
would admit to vanity and the easy manner with which this woman was
flirting soothed an ego that was secretly bruised. "That is one place I
have never been though I have met several of your people lately. My
future daughter-in-law's aunt is Bajoran." He nodded to himself.
Byron's wife was a fine woman and that Aneirin was interested in their
daughter pleased him greatly.
Steren studied the man carefully. There were streaks of gray throughout
the jet-black hair but his face was unlined. He spoke of sons old
enough to be married so he was certainly much older than her but,
numbers and grays aside, he didn't seem old. Handsome man, she mused,
even without the rhinal ridges. Sexy, she told herself.
"So then have lunch with me," she ventured. "I can tell you all about
Bajoran women."
He slowly raised a brow then chuckled. "In the face of such a helpful
offer, how can I possibly refuse?" he replied with a smile.
As they walked side by side to a small Bajoran café, Aidoaneth watched
her. Her dark hair was cut just at her shoulders. The dark brown
strands seeming to bounce as she walked, and her figure was, in his
opinion, admirable from both a physician's and a man's view. Nice, he
told himself, very nice.
Short of the first meal he shared with Aneirin upon his return, that
lunch was the most enjoyable meal Aidoaneth could recall having in a
long while. He'd tried, several times, to adopt a vegetarian diet but
he couldn't do it. It made him sick every time. While Aneirin was a
vegetarian, he didn't mind of his father ate meat in front of him yet
his wife had been repulsed, refusing to watch him eat, thus leaving
Aidoaneth to have a good many meals alone. Steren was warm,
intelligent, and engaging and it helped, too, that Bajoran cuisine was
rather tasty.
It was nice to have a man speak to her as if she were an equal. Despite
thousands of years of culture, some Bajoran men, it seemed to Steren,
still treated women as somehow lesser. This man, however, acted as if
she just as much a right to feeling and passion as he did. He even told
her that he liked that she put so much feeling into her art.
"The piece I saw," Aidoaneth said casually, "seems quite alive. It
speaks of its creator's passion."
"I'll show you more if you'd like," Steren said with a teasing smile.
Such openness of attraction made Aidoaneth outright grin. It was
refreshing to see a woman so unrepressed and unafraid to express her
feelings. Part of him deeply regretted the constrains of marriage that
kept him from being just as open in return. Even still, it seemed a
shame to quench such a lovely flame.
"I will," he said as he touched the tip of her nose with one finger,
"certainly remember you said that, Steren. Art, in any form, should
certainly be appreciated."
Dark blue eyes followed him, openly eyeing him appreciatively, as he
stood to take his leave of her. "Come back and see me before you go,"
she said with complete sincerity.
"Oh, I will, and, if I can, I will tell that one's grandson to see you
as well. I think he will appreciate the sculpture even more than I
did," he replied, his eyes not leaving her face.
"Thank you, Aidoaneth." Steren watched him go. It had been a good day,
she thought, a very good day.
--
for without hope I cannot live, remember the past but do not dwell there, face the
future where all our hopes stand."_- Israel Kamakawiwo'ole
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