Who You Say I Am (A Jai Courtney Fanfic)

Chapter 70-Jai

Jai

I drive us to the museum. It's actually the closest we've gotten to the real CBD of town. I can see the skyline from the freeway. I get off the exit in an unsavory area but down a block looks like a historic district. We drive in front of the building and it's actually incredible. I wasn't expecting such a majestic looking building. It has large white columns and steps with an ornate metal roof covered in a green patina. She directs me to drive around the building and park in the back. I saw some modern art around the front of the building on the way in but I'm just noticing a modern looking wing connected to the building in the back.
"That's my art school," she tells me.
"Really?" I ask surprised.
"We can enter through there if you want," she offers. "I should still have a part of my final project from last semester on display."
"Alright," I agree completely intrigued. I was planning to come here to view some art but I wasn't expecting to be given the privilege to see hers. We step out of the vehicle and cross the street.
"That's the sculpture building over there," she points to a detached section on another road nearby. I nod and walk beside her interested in learning more about her. We pass a glass courtyard before we enter the modern grey angular construction. I can see an office and classrooms down the first hallway but she takes me to a small gallery just past the doors. Some of the art up is kind of interesting, others are just plain weird. She approaches a blue... photograph, I think, and tells me it's hers. I can see her name beside it and it's untitled. I step closer and notice it's actually a scene of an abandoned part of a city.  It looks like it's been painted onto the paper.  I can actually see what look like brushstrokes, not a digital print—at least I don't think so.
"What kind of... medium is this?" I ask her hoping I used the appropriate terminology.
"This is a cyanotype," she tells me. "It's an actual printed photograph but I used a special type of process. I applied the specific emulsion to the paper to give it this appearance and processed it in the lab."
"So, this is a traditional type of photograph?" I question impressed.
"It is," she nods. "An older technique. It's actually what used to be common for blueprints."
"That's really interesting," I tell her looking closer. I'm intrigued by the process but the photograph itself could stand alone with a more basic style. It's like modern art mixed with traditional. She's very talented and I think the style of it makes it more alluring and unique. There are no others on the wall that are anything like this. "I see why your professors were so impressed with you," I tell her. I look to her and she seems surprised by the compliment.
"Thank you," she says softly. "Do you want to see any of the others?"  She motions to the rest of this gallery. 
I glance around at some of the other students' work from where we're standing and feel like they're just not as talented. Some seem like they're up there for shock value. Others seem poorly crafted and slapped together.
"Yeahnah," I say.
She chuckles, "So... onto the museum?"
"Lead the way," I tell her since I'm not sure where to go.
She guides me between the nearby double doors and through some rounded, curved hallways that are covered in colorful designs. This is defo an interesting looking museum. We walk through some more doors and I realize we're on a lower level when I notice a staircase. I see a bright wall of tiles covered in artwork that's lit up. It's interesting.
Megan leads me up the staircase and I think we're on the ground floor now. There's a reception desk by the front entrance and she directs me to it. "Do you want a tour or we can go around by ourselves?" she asks.
"We can just walk around," I shrug. Usually tours get crowded and I don't really feel like being the center of attention here.
"How about the recording then?" she offers.
I nod my assent. She gets some sort of electronic device.
"Do you want to see the special showing?" she asks motioning to a poster.
"If you want," I shrug.
"They have some quilts on display. Maybe I should see them and let my mom know about it," she comments. 
"Alright," I agree. 
I pay for our admission but I'm shocked by the price.  Megan thanks me but I can't help asking when we walk away, "Why so inexpensive?"
"Because the museum has free admission," she answers easily.  "Only the special exhibits have a fee.  I think it's to cover the cost for it," she tells me shrugging. 
I'm actually pretty impressed.  This place is nice for a city I've never heard of before.  We start with the special exhibition.  It's alright.  Megan seems to spend most of the time looking at the quilts.  When she's ready to move on we go to the free section which is most everything else.  We start to walk around and I'm in awe of the building.  The art is beautiful, too.  I see much more traditional styles of paintings and sculptures.  Megan has the guided tour play from her device and I listen in a little.  There are some areas of modern art but I think I prefer some of the more traditional.  We come to a section that's like a small colonnade.  It appears to have some Christian art here and Megan spends more time looking around in this location than the other areas so far.  We move on to some other rooms.  There's some ancient Egyptian art that seems incredible.  I honestly haven't really been one to frequent museums.  I was more interested in the theater and dance—especially when I was in school.  I glance to Megan as she observes some Egyptian pottery.  She's examining every detail and taking it all in.  I can't help myself from doing the same with her... When she moves on, I follow.
For most of what we've seen so far, I'd never heard of the artists but we advance to another room and I'm surprised that they have a Rembrandt, a Picasso, and a Van Gogh.  Megan actually starts talking to me about the latter, describing the brush strokes and the color.  I smile at her critique—her admiration of the painting. 
"Is this one your favorite?" I ask. 
"No," she shakes her head.  "I just love the technique."
"Do you have a favorite here?  You seem to know your way about," I point out. 
"I do," she smiles. 
We walk around a bit more and enter another room.  She stands before a large painting.  I think it's a biblical scene. 
"This is my favorite," she tells me.  "It's an El Greco.  I love the use of light and dark."  She plays the recording on her device.  There's an explanation that this was commissioned for a church.  It elaborates on how people used to stand much further beneath it—at the altar. It describes the use of what Megan mentioned before to create a sort of three dimensional effect.  Megan gets down on her knees and admires the painting.  I don't know why, but I feel compelled to join her so I kneel down, too.  As I look up at the painting, I'm in awe of the visual effect.  That's just indescribable. 
"What year was this painted?" I question in disbelief. 
"1590," Megan replies. 
"That's some serious skill," I compliment. 
"Yeah," she agrees.  "I love the colors, the effects... but most of all, I love the way this painting makes me feel. If you ever read the gospels you'll read that Jesus knew what was going to happen to him. He knew one of his best friends was going to betray him and hand him over to be executed, yet he did it anyway. Luke says—since he was a doctor—that Jesus was under such stress, that he was actually sweating blood. Under severe duress, some people can have blood vessels break below the surface of the skin. That's what happened to him. It can be very painful, especially afterwards because the skin is kind of bruised and tender. He asked God to take this from him... but then prayed that God's will be done. He went along with God's will even though he could've stopped it. He was taken and interrogated. He was slapped and spit on. They ripped out parts of his beard. Then he was passed onto the Romans where he was flogged. If you know anything about flogging, sometimes people died afterward from having their flesh shredded repeatedly with those metal tipped whips. Then he had to carry a heavy cross to the site of his own murder.  They pierced his hands and feet and he died within hours.  The sky grew dark midday and there were earthquakes.  He was put in a tomb and rose again on the third day.  This painting... it makes me feel as if I'm there with him.  I feel as if I get a glimpse of what he saw in that moment.  He knew he was going to die... terribly.  He was human and swayed in his thoughts, pleading to have the cup before him taken away.  And yet... he submitted.  He did all of that for me... and for you."
There's silence between us as we stare at the painting.  I can see it a bit from her eyes, how she knows all these stories and can get a glimpse of them in this.  She's very passionate about her religion.  I need to remember that.  It's like a key with her, I feel. 
I hear a click like a photograph being taken and glance over to see someone actually was doing exactly that.  "Do you mind terribly?" the lady asks.  She's dressed like an employee here with a name tag.  "It's just that nobody actually does that to experience the effect.  I was hoping to use it for the website."
"I don't mind," Megan says to me asking my permission as she rises. 
"Neither do I," I tell the woman joining Megan's side. 
She looks at me in surprise, just realizing who I am.  "Oh my goodness," she says in shock.  "Are you really Jai Courtney?"
"I am," I smile reaching out to shake her hand.  She covers her mouth in awe before reaching out to shake mine.  We talk a bit and as a curator, she has more knowledge about the painting than the electronic tour.  Of course she asks for a picture and my autograph.  I give them to her happily.  She thanks us for everything and our permission to use the photo.  We wave to her as she goes back to work.  We look at a little more artwork before we finish up here.  She takes me across the street to the glass pavilion.  We view all different varieties, shapes, and shades of glass... and I recall, this is one of the things she said the city is famous for.  I can appreciate the collection more as a craft and historical collection.  I even hear that they offer classes and demonstrations.  I do find this pretty interesting.  We make it through the whole display before Megan speaks. 
"So... I was wondering..." she says hesitantly. 
"What is it?" I question since she's being so shy. 
"Would it be weird if I acted like a kid for a bit?" she says kind of bashfully. 
"What do you want to do?" I inquire. 
"There's a swing across the street..." she says trailing off. 
"Do you want me to push you?" I tease. 
She laughs, "No, I want you to swing with me."
"You think we'll both fit on a swing?" I question skeptically. 
"I'm pretty sure we'll fit," she nods confidently. 
"Lead the way," I laugh disbelievingly.  We cross the street again and walk towards her school side of the museum.  I see a huge black construction up ahead and wonder what kind of modern art that is.  It's a massive metal fabrication and looks to have a giant tire ripped in half hanging from it.  Megan runs ahead of me and I follow.  She actually climbs on top of the tire and reaches for my hand.  I grasp her fingers and she pulls me up to join her.  I laugh in surprise as we actually swing on the tire.  "Is this museum of yours like a play land for adults?" I joke.
"Pretty much," she smiles.  "Or those who are young at heart."