“So how long do you plan on us being there?” Acrylic asked, keeping his bag of paints, brushes and a small canvas close in the taxi.
“I suppose it all rather depends on you,” I said. “Depending on how many will show up to the gallery, I wouldn’t be surprised if it went on for… what would you say Fleur? Three, perhaps four hours?”
My bodyguard who was sitting between us thought for a moment. “I guess until dinner rolls around. Then again, I heard that there will be some catering there since it’s so new and all. Nothing heavy just some snacks and punch.”
“Sir, are you sure this is a good idea?” Acrylic craned his neck forward a bit. “I mean, won’t ponies wonder about me being there? After all, I saw the picture of me this morning?”
A moment of panic graced my mind, “Did you read it?”
He shook his head to my relief, “I don’t think I have to. All I’m asking is that won’t ponies there who might have seen or read about it would wonder why I’m there.”
“Then don’t pay any attention to them, for now, we’re going there to introduce you to the public.”
“And by the public, of course, you mean your rich friends.”
I shrugged, “Well naturally, I know a few who are art collectors themselves. Yet, while there, you can show them first hoof of painting a masterpiece at work.”
He folded his ears back, looking away to the passing street. “Suppose they don't like it?”
Fleur put a hoof on his shoulder, “Mr. Brush, where we’re going is to be with like-minded ponies that would be interested in you. Plenty of ponies want to have an Impressionistic masterpiece hanging in their home. I think they’ll be curious about a living master that lives here in Canterlot.”
The red fellow sighed, “If only I can believe that.”
“Oh cheer up,” I try to give him a comforting smile, “from all the art I’ve seen you’ve made, I think that finding even one pony to have a commission won’t be that difficult at all.”
Acrylic looked up from his hoofcolt uniform, “Mr. Pants, I would give anything to see what you see. For you may be an optimist, but as someone who grew up in the real world, I know that finding success is still unlikely.”
I looked up ahead to the Cinder Gallery that was coming up, “Well Acrylic, I think you’re in for a surprise.”
We rode up to the steps of the Classical marble building that, although not as massive as most museums, there is a timeless elegance that historically has introduced artists for the past century to Equestria. From Trothko’s simplistic paintings to the complex sculptures of Blooming Clay, this gallery is the doorway for artists to be given a chance to become known.
Today is Acrylic Brush’s turn.
Already as our cab driver pulled up, there’s already a crowd there waiting at the door. I know they’re there for me, their host, to show up to open up the exhibition. After thanking the driver, the three of us head up the steps.
“Ah Fancy, there you are,” it took only a moment to find that it was Hoity Toity that was speaking. “Some of us were getting worried that you might be running late.”
“Hello old chap,” I went up to shake his hoof. “And no, I haven’t forgotten for I’m rather excited about this myself. You know I haven’t seen you in a while, and I’ve been trying to get in contact with you.”
“For that, I’m very sorry,” he said, “Manehattan was keeping my hooves tied for about a month. But now that I’m free, I’m still interested in seeing the latest art from… what’s his name?”
“Acrylic Brush and you have read those letters I’ve been trying to send you, right?”
“Again, I’m sorry for that, I just barely got back and I haven’t checked my mail yet.”
“Well, never mind that – let me give the opening speech and let’s go right in. Besides, I’ll have you speak with the artist himself.”
“Here’s here,” Hoity looked around, “Where?”
“All in good time,” I looked over my shoulder over to Acrylic as he followed close by.
Now at the doors of the gallery, Fleur and Acrylic cleared a space for me, “Good afternoon Mares and Gentlecolts,” I began, getting the crowd’s attention. “Before we begin, I want to thank you all for coming out today. Behind these doors, for the first time will be the premiere of a master of color, that saw the parks, gardens, streets, homes, mountains and the starry skies of our city, and has produced about forty masterpieces that now hung in this gallery. It will be my pleasure to introduce you to the works of the Last Impressionist that up until now has been gone unnoticed. Although all of you will get the chance to meet the artist himself, we have quite the world to look at from his paintings. Now then,” I turned around to the double doors and with my horn flaring, I grasp the handles. “Shall we take a look?”
Now the doors have been pushed open, and the curious elite began to walk right in. I turned to Acrylic who was standing by the door. “Mr. Brush,” I said, “Come inside, there’s something you need to see.”
Giving a puzzled look, the stallion followed me into the foyer that leads into the grand, arch hall. A hallway of clear skylights that shone down upon the stone columns, and gilded frames that hung on the Rococo walls of white and gold, while the sounds of a string quartet were playing softly. In each and every frame was Acrylic’s paintings. Two rows high, the main hall held the larger canvases of ponds and flowery gardens.
Suddenly, I heard the hoofsteps of Mr. Brush became dead quiet. I turned, expected to find surprise… only to find horror his face. He looked around at his art and the ponies that were looking up at them…
“Acrylic?” I began.
“What have you done?” he asked softly, “W… What is all this?”
“Well, this is an exhibition. Your exhibition,” I said, trotting up to place a hoof on his back. “I wanted it to be a surprise.”
He looked around, eyes wide and trembling, “I… I can’t be here! They’re going to laugh! They-”
“Mr. Brush,” Fleur place a hoof on his back from the other side. “Listen for a moment. Nopony’s laughing. Please, for your own good, stay for a moment longer and listen to what they have to say. Believe us; we wouldn’t invite you here if that were the case.”
“Yes,” I nodded, “Just stay and hear what everypony has to say about your art. I promise that it will be worthwhile.”
“I…” the artist looked around, “I don’t about this.”
“Please trust us,” I nudged him to the left, “now come along, let’s go hear the reactions.”
The three of us began over to two mares who I think might be mother and daughter as they were looking up at the view of a tree in Canterlot park that had at the base a solid ring of lilacs.
“It’s really pretty,” the younger mare commented. “I like the flowers.”
“Yes,” the elder nodded, “I like how the branches help draw you in. And the leaves that swirl around as if the wind is moving them. Very lively.”
We moved onto a trio of stallions in one of the smaller rooms that were looking at a painting of my street. “It’s an interesting way for painting the pavement, don’t you think?” one asked.
“Dark purple, deep red and blue,” said another, “the way it’s painted, you wonder if you’re looking at a flowing river then a street. However, the detail on the window there with the filly looking out is rather clever.”
“I agree,” said the third, “Gives you an idea what would look like if Picasso was an Impressionist.”
We moved on into another room where it mostly held still life’s of flowers in vases. In this room, a couple that I know was in there, looking at a painting of my father’s cat in lilies.
“Ah, Lord Night Light and Lady Twilight Velvet,” I bowed respectably. “I’m pleased to see you two here.”
“Oh please,” the gray mare smiled, “Just Velvet would do. I don’t really use the title anyway.”
“How you’re doing Fancy?” Lord Light shook my hoof, “I must say this is quite the collection you got here.”
“Why thank you, are there any particular favorites so far?”
“I do like this one,” Velvet pointed at the painting. “The cat in this is adorable sleeping there.”
“That’s actually my father’s cat.” I pointed out.
“Really?” Night looked at me, “So I guess you really know the artist?”
“You have no idea.”
“Is he around?”
I looked over to Acrylic, “I’ve been told that he’s coming around soon.” I winked before returning to his Lordship, “So any further thoughts on the painting?”
“Yeah, I’ve heard that the artist almost committed suicide the other day.” He said, “Since you know him, is he doing alright?”
“He’s recovering, but yes he is at the moment.”
“That I don’t really understand,” Lady Velvet looked at the painting once more, “How could a pony that could paint such joyful flowers like all of these could still be miserable? I would gladly have these be in my home.”
“But has he given you any reason why he almost died yesterday?” Lord Night asked.
“Well,” I sighed, “Let’s just say that he had many reasons, one of which was he was doubting his abilities.”
He shook his head, “Guess he doesn’t really know the talent he’s got. I mean, all of these paintings are so lively. Just look at the fantastic command of color, and have a balance between wild and control brush strokes. Whoever he is, the stallion is a genius of combining both the colors of the Impressionists with the more modern paintings that somehow made it all work. I do hope that he realizes that he has a gift.”
I looked behind me at Acrylic, he was starting to walk away slowly while Lord Night was talking, “Please excuse me for a moment.” I said as I and Fleur went up to him. “Are you alright Mr. Brush?”
“Are they really telling the truth?” he questions, “Do… Do they all think that, all of this… is good?”
I nodded, “Yes, it’s been something I was trying to tell you-”
“Her Majesty Princess Luna of Equestria!” a voice cried out coming from the foyer. The three of us went into the main hall where before bowing ponies were two Night Guards and the Princess of the Night herself! The three of us also bowed too.
“Rise fellow citizens,” she said. “We- I have come to see the paintings also.”
We watched her go up to one of the paintings. It was of the palace at night with the twisting clouds and piercing stars.
I went up to Her Majesty, “Princess Luna?” I bowed.
“Ah, Fancy Pony,” she smiled as she wrapped a constricting foreleg around me, “Tis good to see you once again. Tell us; is the artist of these paintings here?”
“Yes, your Highness,” I waved a hoof over, “Princess Luna, this is Acrylic Brush, the mastermind behind all of these.”
Her joyful expression quickly changed into a solemn tone as she released me.
Acrylic bowed low to her, “Forgive me, Your Majesty, I’m not worthy.”
“Insistently, it is precisely the reason I want us to speak about. Rise Master Brush, and walk with us.”
He obeyed, as I too followed closely behind them.
“Am I in trouble?” the red stallion inquired.
“No. It has come to our attention that yesterday you almost jumped off a building. Is this true?”
He craned his neck sheepishly, with ears folded back, he nodded.
“Would it be improper to ask why?” Luna asked.
Sighing, he answered, “Princess, I… I was…”
She paused, draping a wing over him. “Take your time.”
Acrylic took in several deep breaths, “Because… I thought that… the world would have been better off… without me in it.”
“Why?”
“Because up until now, I thought that I was worthless. Nopony wanted my paintings and nopony wanted me. I really did try to work hard. I used to have hope that things would get better since I immigrated to Equestria to have that dream come true. But… Nothing happened. While you create art worthy of the gods, all I’ve been doing is making messy paints that no one would want. Even now, I am not worthy to be in your presence because of that fact. So please forgive all the inadequate excuses of art that now hung all around.”
“Acrylic Brush, I’m going to tell you a little secret in the world of art,” said the Princess. “While there will always be artists that struggle for immortality, the good art they leave behind is timeless and it will never, ever age. This isn’t because that they are popular nor because they use a focused theme. For good art comes from how an artist shows others how they see things in their own unique way. So even if you go unnoticed by everypony, with time they’ll come to you to find something that challenges them. All of these paintings that I see are a challenge to the eye, much like my stars, because there’s depth, meaning, and wonder among these pictures that I promise will draw ponies back every time.
“While the pain of loneliness, ostracism, and being ignored are easy for us artists to portray, the ability to use that pain and beauty to express the joy, wonderment, and majesty of our world is something that very few ponies are able to do. Only a few ponies in history could accomplish this, and even fewer alive could master it the way you can.
“I am honored today that I have the chance to meet one of these few geniuses that are still among the living.”
As for Acrylic, he was crying when he heard this. I went up to him, “Mr. Brush, I’m so sorry, is this all too much?”
“No,” he whipped off his tears with the sleeve of his uniform, “they’re tears of joy. It’s the very words that I’ve always wanted to hear. Thank you, my Princess,” he started kissing her hooves. “Thank you!”
“Oh please, please Acrylic Brush,” Luna said, “tis not a holy relic.” I laughed as I helped the chap back up. “One more thing,” she added, “if at any time you wish to paint in the Royal Gardens in order to find inspiration, or if you wanted somepony to talk to. The gates of the palace shall be always open to you.”
He bowed low once more, “I can’t thank you enough, my Princess.”
“I think now’s the time I let everypony know you’re here.” We returned to the main hall in which the stack table was. Raising a glass and tapping it with a spoon, I announced, “Mares and Gentlecolts, may I properly introduce to you all, the pony of honor who created all of these paintings, Acrylic Brush.”
Immediately, the elite gathered into the room and towards the red stallion, “For the genius of these beautiful paintings, let us give three cheers for Mr. Brush.”
Three hurrays later; Hoity was the first to approach him. “So you’re Acrylic Brush? I’ve wondered what you looked like. I must say, I really do like the color schemes on many of these.”
“Uh… thank you?”
“Now, since you’re here, I want to ask you something,” he pointed to a corner of the room where it showed the painting that he had made in Ponyville. “The one with the two mares, are you selling that by any chance?”
Acrylic blinked… and blinked again, “Come again?”
“I was wondering if that painting is up for sale. So if you are, how much do you want it for?”
The bloke was dumbstruck, “Uh… I don’t know.”
Hoity looked over at the painting, “I’ll tell you what, how about I give you… fifty thousand bits for it?”
I saw Acrylic’s eyes shrank to pinpricks, “What?”
“Oh come on,” a mare interjected, “That’s far too low. I’ll give seventy-five thousand for it.”
“I’ll give eighty,” someone said.
“What?” Mr. Brush asked.
“You cheapskates,” a pegasus said, “eighty thousand for that painting? Please, I would pay a hundred-thousand for that painting over there.”
“What!” Acrylic screamed, he looked at me asking, “Is this really happening?”
I had to ring the glass again, “Please, everyone! This is an exhibit, not an auction house. None of these paintings will be sold without the artist’s consent. If Mr. Brush wants to sell them, then it is only up to him when and where it ought to be done. Also,” I smiled, “if he wishes, Acrylic here could take on commissions if anypony is ready to pay for it.”
There was talk of interest among my class over this, “Excuse me, sir,” one of the mare’s said, “would you be interested in painting something in time for my daughter’s birthday? I’d be happy to pay whatever price you ask.”
“Could you paint my portrait?” Hoity asked.
“Mine too!” said someone in the crowd.
“Would you paint my dog?” another asked.
“Can you paint a picture of my baby?”
“Would you paint my garden?”
“Please paint my portrait!”
Voices multiplied all around the room, while in the center, the Artist could barely believe his own ears, and I know why. For the first time, they wanted him to paint and would put forth fortune to get it. Acrylic looked over at me, while I was giving a proud smile.