portrait of a man bruised

chapter one

For hours he's been chiseling away at the marble, gradually revealing the masculine figure that lies underneath. The hard edges turn to smooth sinewy muscle, the flat sides turn to billowing cloth. The color, storm gray with streaks of white, stays the same. It's a reminder that this representation of human beauty isn't human at all. It's too cold, too distant from reality in its perfection. Humans in real life are never so perfectly designed. In real life, they're made of aging flesh drooping from bones, asymmetrical faces, imperfection.

Dropping his tools, Giuseppe takes a step back to critically observe his work, sweeping dark hair back away from his face. He's made much improvement, that much is clear. Master Vieri will be proud, he thinks. The sculpted arms look as life-like as those made of fluid and muscle. Smooth indentions and wrinkles in the sculpted clothing make the illusion all the more compelling. In the face of the sculpture, there's a relaxed vulnerable expression; it appears the perfect capture of a man in thought.

It's Giuseppe's best work yet, he's sure of it.

He moves slowly when cleaning up his tools, making sure they are as spotless as when he had taken them out. It's relaxing for him, a time to revel in his success knowing he's just completed another project. It will be awhile before he's at it again. Materials are costly and, as his father frequently reminds him, they are not made of money.

In the beginning, his father pushed Giuseppe to focus on painting. He proved to be very skillful in the field but something pulled him back and back again to sculpting. He couldn't leave it alone. There's something so riveting about sculptures that made it impossible for him to stay away. The sculpture is not detached from its environment, rather it becomes a part of it. It will not be hurt by rain, nor by the heat or cold. It will live for centuries, man standing in his villa. He is immortal.

Vieri Mocenigo looks up as Giuseppe prepares his things to leave. He sits in the corner of the studio, legs propped up on a shoddy wooden desk. The spectacles sit on the older man's nose, a sign of his reading during the slow hours in the studio. All of his other students have already made it home, with dusk quickly approaching; Giuseppe is the one who remains. Being so close to finishing with his sculpture, he couldn't bear to tear himself away.

Vieri is surrounded by marble, clay, and canvas. Many of his students have become accomplished artists but none have captured his attention like Giuseppe. Vieri stands from his seat at the desk, and passes all of the half finished pieces to reach him. When he finally reaches the finished art piece to observe it with a critical eye, languidly stroking his chin. Giuseppe, pulling his pack over his shoulder, respectfully waits to hear his teacher's opinion. It will be one of approval, he thinks, wishes, hopes. He masks his mounting excitement with a cool expression, one that hints at a more nonchalant demeanor. When his teacher grins, however, Giuseppe can no longer hide his own proud smile.

"Good," Vieri says, only sparing a single glance back towards Giuseppe before turning back to the sculpture to look more closely. The figure balances carefully on one leg, leaving the other bent at the knee. One shoulder is raised higher than the other, the head tilts slightly to the side. There is a curve in the body, a natural flow in the stance.

"A couple more weeks of polishing, I think," Vieri murmurs, "just in time for the competition. Yes... very good work."

Giesueppe has been counting down the days to the competition for months now. Put on by the church, the winner would have his sculpture mounted in the square closest to the Duomo. Not only would it be admired by thousands, but Gieuseppe might find himself a patron. All of his prayers would be answered.

"Thank you, sir." His chest swells with pride and, if he had been any other student, Vieri would have reprimanded him or at least found a fault in his art. But because he's Giuseppe, Vieri's eyes shine with amusement.