Edward Hopper's Art Show

[andrav]

When Cory raised an eyebrow, Juniper started to second-guess his question. It had felt like a natural progression from their earlier critiques, especially given that Cory was also a professional artist. But, as Juniper sat with it, he realized it might have been a step too far to suggest imagining actually changing the painting. But, before he could take it back, Cory turned back toward the painting and indulged him.

"I want to add more details to the trees," Cory said, tracing the air along the treeline of the painting. Juniper enjoyed the way Cory's eyes intently scanned the painting, considering multiple angles at once, Juniper imagined.

"And the path, too," Cory said, gesturing in the air to follow the path from left to right. "Although I'm less sure what that would look like." Cory then sipped his drink, reminding Juniper that he still held his own. He followed suit.

As Cory settled his drink against his chest, he nodded. "I might allow myself to get a little bit abstract with the colors. If there's not variance the eye could see... surely there's at least something emotional to convey." Then, the briefest, apologetic glance toward Juniper. The socialite thought he saw a desire for Juniper to approve of what he was saying. Thinking it over, perhaps Cory had been a bit vague, but then, Juniper supposed trying to explain one's own art process to someone who was not exactly an artist would likely leave anyone lost for words.

"Recognizing, of course, that Hopper himself found completion here..." Ah, but no. Juniper understood now. Cory didn't want to slight Hopper. Juniper laughed quietly to himself. He had long since gotten over that discomfort, having publicly criticized many plays and other works of art in newspapers. Granted, he didn't publish those under his own name.

Cory shook his head and brushed back his hair, gathering himself. "This painting would be unfinished, coming from me," he said with a shrug and a bashful smile before looking at the painting once more. "I like a little more to be going on. Colors, textures, movement, something. The sky is pretty good, and the middle section--" Cory's hand returned to the air in front of the painting, capturing all of Juniper's attention. "--the people, the statue. There's enough to interact with. But the trees and the path are practically blank canvases. For me."

Looking at the painting again himself, he could see what Cory meant. The path felt... plain. Just a thick swath of beige. And the trees, which had initially captivated Juniper's attention for their sheer mystery, did come across as little more than bell-shaped blocks of green. While Juniper appreciated the vastness that blurring communicated, he supposed the trees in front at least could still use more detail.

Juniper contemplated his drink, searching for words. At last, he found them, delivering his next statement with a quiet, delighted smile. "I'll admit, Cory," his eyes flicking up to the artist, though he kept his chin angled downward, "this doesn't make me want to see your artwork any less."

[Emily]

Cory looked to Juniper once he'd finished his thoughts, eager to gauge the man's response. Juniper studied the painting himself, which Cory figured to be a good sign--contemplating Cory's vision, he imagined. Cory returned his own gaze to the painting again to indulge in that vision himself, enjoying the yearning it stoked in him to paint. Perhaps this would give him some inspiration later, in fact. He smiled, looking forward to the possibility.

"I'll admit, Cory," Juniper said after a moment, drawing Cory's gaze back. For a breath, Cory felt worried--just what was Juniper about to admit?--but the man's smile was positively delightful, his eyes blinking up to Cory from a conspiratorial tilt, his lashes luscious in the museum's light. "This doesn't make me want to see your artwork any less."

Cory let out a soft but sudden laugh, an absurd sense of relief--and, perhaps a dash of fluster--demanding expression from his body. His eyes darted back to the painting, more out of bashfulness now than anything else. His smile was wide and happy--nearly absurd, he felt, and he was sure his cheeks were gaining color. His free hand returned to his pocket to fidget, lest he lose his self-control and fully loosen his tie.

Goodness, what did he say back, though? A million different options ran through his mind, unhelpful in the sheer volume of words to choose from. In his imagination, he forewent words altogether and simply moved closer to Juniper, plopping his forehead right onto the man's shoulder. Maybe, maybe if they were somewhere private he might've had the courage at least to warmly bump arms, but...

On impulse, Cory turned to glance at the room around them, the open doorway out into the large corridor where the guest had complained loudly about adult content. He wanted to go somewhere private with Juniper. Surely... surely Juniper wanted that, too? In abstract, at least--there was of course also a desire to finish their journey with Hopper's art, first. Cory sighed, exhaling his lament and making a fresh peace with where they were at in the present moment. He was more serene, then, if with a subtle melancholy in his eyes when he finally drew his gaze back to Juniper.

"I would love to show you my artwork sometime, Juniper." Here was just hoping that the warm confidence he'd finally mustered would make up for all the dithering he'd done on his way there.

[andrav]

Cory's soft laugh made it possible for Juniper to believe that he had struck exactly the note he'd been aiming for with the artist. With a wide smile, Cory turned back to the painting again, his cheeks flushed. Juniper had the absurd and delightful thought that he might actually be able to compliment this man to death.

There was a palpable silence for a beat afterward as Cory considered a response. Juniper felt pulled toward Cory, imagining taking the hand that Cory had used to gesture at the painting and dragging it gently across his own chest. Ah, but that fantasy was beyond intimate, and Juniper had made peace with being content in this actual present moment interaction, had he not?

Cory looked around, and Juniper wondered if he was checking to see if they had an audience. The thought was thrilling, even if it weren't true. But whatever Cory was looking for, he didn't find it and sighed instead, his eyes just slightly wider with a subtle lament. Juniper missed the man's exuberance.

"I would love to show you my artwork sometime, Juniper," Cory said at last, a warmth in his voice that echoed back toward Juniper's brief compulsion to touch the man.

Juniper wanted ask Cory to say his name once more, enjoying so much the memory of the first time Cory had tested the syllables of Juniper's name on his tongue. But, of course, he refrained from that, too. He could do nothing quite so obvious.

There were other paintings to see in the room--and a whole other room besides--and Juniper found himself grateful for that. He didn't want to exit Cory's company. He wanted to continue basking in the possibility Cory presented for as long as the man would let him.

Offering a gentle smile in response to Cory, Juniper walked toward a bench in the middle of the room that was almost large enough for three people and sat down on one side, looking at the paintings the two of them had not examined thoroughly yet. He let a comfortable silence stand between them, his body warm and comfortable.

[Emily]

Juniper smiled gently, and Cory couldn't help admiring the curve of the gesture, the way the museum light diffused on the man's lips. Cory wanted to paint so very badly. Or to touch. He'd have to content himself for now with just relishing in the sight of things. It was rather easy to do--even easy to get lost in--now he well and truly had his painters' eyes on. He couldn't help staring a moment when Juniper walked over to a bench, taking in the composition of the man's new pose in the context of the room and the other paintings in it.

He realized after a moment with a sheepish smile that Juniper may find him staring to be odd, and he quickly moved over to join Juniper on the bench. He felt just slightly awkward about how much space he 'ought' to leave--the bench was about wide enough for three people, and Cory ended up sitting sort of half a person away from each of Juniper and the far end, trying not to think too much about it. Oh, the thought flashed to sit quite close to Juniper, to gently lean shoulders against one another. Cory contented himself with the fantasy, and the very pleasant reality that he did share Juniper's lovely company in this place.

Settled in to his seat, Cory returned his attention to the paintings around the room. For a moment he fondly revisited the watercolor of the woman drawing on the beach, finding it to be exceedingly pleasant to his mood. Then he took stock of some others--paid a brief, cursory homage to a watercolor of a boat and an oil of a house by a train crossing, and finally spent some time with an oil of a city street where there were many fun and intriguing sights to take in.

[andrav]

It took Cory some time before he came to join Juniper on the bench—perhaps the artist wanted to spend more time up close with the artwork, but regardless, Juniper was content. When Cory did sit, they shared a comfortable stillness. Even from this slight distance, the paintings were beautiful—perhaps moreso as the blurring and the lack of detail faded nicely. Cory looked at each of them but seemed to settle on an oil painting of a trolley car and a busy street. Juniper wondered if Cory was imagining adding details and textures to this one as well. He almost wanted to ask, but he didn’t want to repeat himself.

And, really, perhaps he was already paying too much attention to Cory. Was this a friendly invitation? Would Juniper have invited a friend here? Surely, yes, but Juniper couldn’t imagine anyone else who would quite fit the bill. Mr. Kade, perhaps, though Juniper suspected that he wouldn’t be quite so keen in visiting every room with Kade, and Juniper would probably be a little more subtle about observing the man. Briefly, Juniper wondered about what it might be like to take Mr. Pemberley here, and he almost shuddered. It wouldn’t be safe to be in public with Stephen. Surely, the man would do something flamboyant to give them both away.

Juniper brought his attention back to the art for a moment and then looked out of the room toward the doorman for the “adult content” exhibit. There wasn’t anyone over there just now, and when Juniper listened, it seemed like the din of voices outside had waned. Perhaps there was a lull in the crowd. Maybe now would be a good time to go, if they were going to.

“You know, I…” Juniper began, gently reaching for Cory’s attention, “…I didn’t know about the exhibit behind the curtain when I invited you, but now that we are here…” Juniper said, taking a deep breath before finishing his sentence, “…it would feel a shame to leave without doing so. But what do you think?”

[Emily]

Cory's eyes thoroughly enjoyed all the different intersecting lines and playful colors in the painting he had settled into, and he relaxed into a sort of meditative admiration, imagining what fun Hopper had while painting it, envisioning the blues and yellows and browns that may have decorated his fingers by the end. He felt quite happy and content.

“You know, I…” Juniper spoke up, and it sent an absolute thrill dancing in a playful spiral down Cory's stomach. It wasn't exactly that he had forgotten that Juniper was there, but rather, almost had disbelieved it for a moment, and was overjoyed to return to the reality where a new, interesting, alluring person had been sitting beside him, having shared all the conversations they had shared, while Cory had contentedly lost himself in a painting. It all almost felt too good to be true, but it was true. His smile was wide as he brought his gaze back to Juniper, eyebrows raised with open interest.

“…I didn’t know about the exhibit behind the curtain when I invited you, but now that we are here…” Juniper said, taking a deep breath before finishing his sentence, “…it would feel a shame to leave without doing so. But what do you think?”

Cory's smile curled up at the edges, his gaze averting shyly even as his throat gave a soft, affirmative hum.

"Yes, it would indeed be a shame not to see, while we're here." Bravely, Cory drew his gaze back to Juniper, and added a small nod, ready to stand and follow Juniper but hesitating doing any leading himself.

[andrav]

((OOC: Whitney.org/collection/works/9686))

Juniper waited in a short but agonized silence for Cory to react. There was a soft hum in the air—a contemplative hum or a hum of interest? Juniper didn’t dare to guess.

“Yes,” Cory said, and a kaleidoscope of butterflies erupted out of Juniper’s stomach, “it would indeed be a shame not to see, while we’re here.” Cory met Juniper’s eyes with a small nod. Juniper held Cory’s gaze for a few beats longer, searching his eyes and their honeyed brown. Beautiful. And, still, Juniper did not know if the man was… interested or simply… indulging him. Did it matter? No, Juniper supposed not.

He stood, then, sensing that Cory was ready, and led the way out of the room. Clocking a group of people who were putting on coats and collecting their belongings in preparation to leave, Juniper headed in the opposite direction toward the curtained room. He nodded to the attendant and passed through.

There were more sketches, drawings, and paintings here than in any of the other rooms—it was almost overwhelming. Most of them were of women, but a few of them were of men, and Juniper felt his ears begin to turn red as he contemplated how to go about choosing which of them to look at first.

At first, he simply took in the impressive number of pieces, staggered in three rows. Hopper clearly had an affinity for the nude form, though Juniper supposed that drawing nudes seemed a popular subject for artists, especially in the beginning. He wondered if these were older sketches from the artist or if Hopper continued to hold an interest throughout.

Juniper was impressed with the museum’s—and the artist’s—choices. There was a tremendous amount of vulnerability here. Many of the pieces seemed unfinished or unintended for public viewings, drawn as some of them were on less-than-museum-grade paper, and yet, that certainly added to their charm. Quite a titillating display, indeed. The curator never failed to disappoint.

Unable to keep staring at everything and nothing, Juniper found himself drawn toward a sketch of two nude men—or maybe the same man drawn twice. One was seated on the ground, holding one leg, and the other was drawn sideways, almost reaching up toward the other man, though the hand rested on a surface of some kind. Juniper was fascinated and full of questions. Had Hopper intended to draw them together? Had he only been practicing? But, even if he had been, wasn’t there a yearning here regardless?

Juniper hummed quietly in his throat, thinking about how pleasurable it would be to blend the pencil marks to the degree Hopper had, the pencil lead darkening his fingers, the urge to go for as long as possible before washing the marks off his fingertips.

((OOC: Juniper might be there a moment.))

[Emily]

Cory was absolutely delighted when he stepped through the curtain. Partly, he was just that excited, and something about crossing this threshold was in itself satisfying. Partly, the initial impression of the array of sketches laid out before him felt like a dear friend sharing intimate secrets normally held close to the chest. Something else swirled into Cory's stomach soon after--a near-dizziness at the fact that Hopper was not a dear friend, and yet here were his drawings laid out for Cory to see. Perhaps, too, a fresh wave of awareness hit him about his own upcoming exhibit--at just how many strangers' eyes would soon take in his own art. Would Hopper perhaps come and return the favor one day? Cory took in a deep breath and sighed it out, all a bit louder than he'd realized.

He recentered himself on his present companion, searching for where Juniper's attention had landed. He had found a sketch of two men--or two sketches of the same man, on second assessment--oddly askwer from one another. Cory found himself tilting his head, most interested in the figure on the bottom of the page, who was quite notably sideways. It was a little bit disorienting to engage with at first, but once Cory successfully rotated his own internal perception, he found himself quite satisfied with the weightiness that Hopper depicted. Cory decided that he himself had not done nearly enough of playing with arms bearing weight, and resolved to spend some time with that soon in his own drawing practice.

Errantly, Cory wondered whether Juniper might indulge him, and his gaze drifted to the side before he could stop it, tracing the line of Juniper's arm in his suit and wondering palpably what it would look like bared, with muscles engaged. Cory rememered Juniper's soft squeeze of his shoulder, and the temptation rose to mirror the gesture here. His eyes flicked back toward the curtain--surely they were alone enough to be safe?--but Cory still couldn't bring himself to do it. Even coming to this room of the exhibit might have been on the edge of Juniper's comfort, and Cory didn't want to push things, no matter how badly it seemed he wanted to touch the man next to him. What he did allow himself was to keep a free hand by his side, indulging in imaginations of Juniper electing to brush against him. His other hand held his glass against his chest, still with liquid in it that had gone unsipped for some time. It remained unsipped as his attention returned fully to the sketch in question, and Cory contemplated silently what he wanted to imagine Hopper's relationship might have been to this man he had drawn.

[andrav]

Juniper continued contemplating the two sketches as Cory came up beside him, curious where Juniper's attention had landed. Juniper's mind threatened to spin into an anxious overdrive, contemplating the thousands possibilities of what Cory might make of his choice, but instead, Juniper breathed through it, letting it go. He just wanted to be here with Cory, wanted to spend these sacred moments in this art gallery room alone with whatever wanted to happen.

Following that thought out of his own mind, Juniper let his peripheral vision move outward toward Cory, no longer able to keep his attention solely on the sketches before him. His breath caught slightly to see that Cory was looking at him--well, his arm--and Juniper indulged in the possibility that Cory might be considering what it would be like to draw him. The thought sent a trill of excitement through Juniper's stomach, and he very nearly turned toward Cory as a result, but he kept himself still, not wanting to interrupt the artist's process.

For a moment, the air grew warmer--was it Juniper's imagination?--and he could almost believe that Cory was about to reach out and touch him. I would welcome it, Juniper thought, even if someone were to walk in at this exact moment. Dangerous thoughts to be thinking, indeed. And yet, if he were truly living in this present moment...

Cory's attention appeared to move back to the sketch in front of the two of them, and Juniper quietly and slowly let out a pent-up breath, the tension slowly easing out of his body. But, he could not help but notice that Cory's hand--the one nearest Juniper and not occupied with a drink, hung at his side, near enough that, if Juniper were to allow his own arm to relax, they might incidentally brush up against one another. And was that what Cory wanted? They were standing rather close to each other, weren't they? Closer than they had in the gallery.

Juniper felt a little light-headed. Perhaps it was the curtain, but this room felt smaller than the rest, already more intimate on its own, nevermind its contents. Juniper closed his eyes and switched his drink such that his arm nearest Cory could relax. The air around Juniper's hand seemed taut and electric. Juniper swallowed, gaze still staring intently at the sketch, though nothing about the foreground was catching his attention anymore. In the haze of his thoughts, he allowed himself to fantasize about what it might feel like to press his hand against Cory's chest the way the lower man in the sketch leaned against the table, pushing the man up against the wall and kissing his neck. Juniper swallowed again, his mouth salivating. He closed his eyes and willed the proximity to do what it would and bring their hands together at last purely by accident, some happenstance that would allow either or both of them to save face if they needed it.

And then, unbidden, the thought of watching Cory take that first bite of strawberry, lips and tongue delicately curating the juice into his mouth, came potently to mind, and not only did Juniper's fingers twitch of their own accord in Cory's direction, but he let out a slight sound--the split-second beginnings of a moan--though he caught it almost immediately and cleared his throat as though to cover it up.

((OOC: Up to you if Juniper's twitch Cory's direction succeeds or not. *giggles*))

[Emily]

Cory's imagination settled on most enjoying the story that this man was one that Hopper had met in some unrelated context, but had befriended and convinced to pose for him. More likely, this was a model, largely anonymous in the service he offered in posing, but that was not the fun story. It was not lost on Cory, of course, that his present fantasy of Juniper was much the same.

Cory's fingers swayed a little in the air as he wondered whether he could muster the courage to make a move of sorts - if not physical touch, perhaps a question? His mind began playing over his interactions with Juniper to bolster his confidence--what he could remember of that brief first night encounter; the party where they had talked over chocolate and strawberries; and this museum visit together, where they had discussed their disinterest in their respective female companions, shared candid artistic commentary, and even engaged in a brief shoulder squeeze, all before arriving in this room, staring at these sketches of a nude man, together.

Then, all at once, it happened. Cory felt a light brush of Juniper's fingers against his own, accompanied by a beautiful sound humming resonantly from Juniper's lips--only to be covered over as Juniper cleared his throat. Cory's figers had pressed into the touch, ever so slightly, in that first half-second, but they pulled back instinctively as Juniper's sound changed, confidence wavering. Still, his eyes had already moved to Juniper, landing on his soft lips, eager to glean the man's expression, and he didn't look away.

"Juniper," he said, and then swallowed, suddenly uncertain of what he was about to say. Then, he decided that he didn't need to know; he just needed to relax enough to let his intuition speak--not unlike the way he scarcely knew what each stroke of the brush would actually end up doing half the time. "Have you ever been drawn?"

Terror turned in Cory's stomach as he hear the words fall from his lips, but he told himself he could soften the question after the fact, if he needed to. His eyes were earnest as he gazed at Juniper, though, ready and willing to be read as yearning, just so long as Juniper didn't give him call to reel it back in.