The Magic Hour

Chapter 21: Sela's Art and Carnival Glass

 “NATHAN. HOW GOOD to see you. Hang on, I’ve got a client. Why don’t you wait in the living room?”

     Sela opened the front door wide and led him into a sunny room on the left.

     “I’m counseling today. She’ll be done very soon. There’re cookies in the dish if you want,” she said, pointing to the coffee table in front of a teal velvet sofa.

     It was a striking room. The rug on the floor was an abstract of teal and cream and dark blue. The walls were painted a soft cream to match. The light came into the room from the west through three large windows. A shimmering deep green panel of fabric hung at the far ends, leaving the center window free. The effect widened the space of the room. A few pieces of spun glass and natural crystal were set on a small table in the center, but beyond that there was no other decoration. Except the paintings.

     He walked over to one that was set above the sofa. The brush strokes all moved up a diagonal from the lower left corner in streaks of cobalt, silver and white. The colors merged and separated and merged again, and then exited on the upper right, leaving the sensation of movement beyond the edge of the canvas. As he looked at it Nathan was struck by the fluid motion within the painting as well, giving him the feeling he was submerged, watching the sea from beneath its surface. A feeling of serenity emanated out of it.

     “That was my second one,” Sela said behind him.

    “You’re kidding,” Nathan said.

    “I had this rush of an idea, I can’t account for it, I just had to express it somehow. I bought some more acrylic paints and the canvas and did it in about three hours. That was seven years ago. This whole room is for the early work, actually, except the one you saw from the desert. As I mentioned before, I live in an archive.”

    Nathan gazed around, taking in the other works, each one set in similar colors.

    “My ‘blue’ period, isn’t that how artists are described?” she said with amusement.

    “These—I don’t know what to say. They’re amazing.” Nathan wished he could express what he felt more cogently. The art dazzled him.

    “Well, I think you mean it, and I thank you,” Sela said. “So, let me bring us something to drink and you can tell me what you need from me.”

    “No, I’m fine,” he said, moving away from the painting and focusing on her. “Just finished lunch with Harry. That’s what brings me here. We’re following up on the dealer who bought Nora Gray’s paintings. You’re right, Rafaella did remember him, name of Paul French. He bought a work by another artist that day, Randolph Trent, who I called just now. He made a curious comment. He said French had complained that his painting didn’t have enough blue in it.”

    “What?” Sela asked, laughing. “I know Randolph. That must have really made his day.”

    “Apparently French gave as a reason the comment that Nora used a lot of blue. Trent didn’t know what he was talking about, but I thought you might.”

    “Not why an art dealer would ever say such a thing, no. Still, it’s true, Nora used blue primarily in the works I saw. Everything she did was a study in blue, she told me. When I asked her why—as one would—she answered that it was the color that made her happy. That was it.”

    “What were the themes in the watercolors? Were they consistent?”

    “Now that is an interesting question.”

    “From a layman, you mean,” Nathan said.

    “From anyone. In Nora’s case, and remember I only saw the five she hung that day, aside from the color there were no common themes that I noticed. One was a waterfall, another was a construction site, there was a portrait she said was of her sister, a study of a city at dawn, and then one strange one, a war scene, very evocative. They all were. She used watercolors to convey light in a way that reminded me of Wyeth a lot, but again, the focus on shades of blue gave everything a more intangible feeling, ephemeral, as if each scene could disappear in a moment. She would have made her mark in the art world, if she’d lived. I’m sure of it.”