By Katelyn, age 17, Minnesota
The painting wasn’t under a spotlight. In fact, it was towards the back of the museum, overshadowed by the clearer-cut artworks where people could explain exactly what was happening and feel cultured. But nonetheless, the oft-ignored Shapeshifter by Diana Copperwhite had caught the eye of two twenty-somethings who had inexplicably ended up in the art museum that rainy morning, the building’s only inhabitants. The boy squinted at Shapeshifter and asked, to no one in particular, what it was.
The girl replied that she didn’t know and didn’t have much mind to. Art was pointless, she said, when there was so much out in the real world to experience. He considered that, but to him, art was a way of perceiving life, both from the artist’s perspective and yours. He supposed, cliche though it was, that beauty was in the eye of the beholder. He opened his mouth to share this insight, and got about halfway through, when she suddenly spun around, forcing them into an awkward two-step. It went on for a minute too long so they moved faster, and as he took a large step back to try to finally get out of her way, his shoulder hit the painting. She was two steps out when she heard the crash.
She instinctively spun around and froze when she saw the mess, throwing up her arms in an appeal to some deity. He felt like doing the same thing, but, since the accident wasn’t technically her fault, he told her she could go. The corners of her mouth twitched ever so slightly as she left.
He blinked, he wasn’t expecting her to actually leave. After a second, he picked up the canvas from the shards of the frame and inspected it. To his relief, the picture was fine. His conscience prevented him from leaving, so he found a broom and started sweeping up the glass.
He picked up the canvas and tried to see if he could hang it on the wall as a slight impression of its former condition, but he realized he couldn’t remember which way was up. Annoyed that he, the art appreciator, couldn’t remember, he flipped Shapeshifter around a few times until he heard someone tell him to stop. Expecting a museum worker, his look of regret turned to one of astonishment when he saw the girl from earlier– holding an identical frame. Too full of questions to ask them all, he instead asked how she knew which way it went. She told him that it was obvious, there was the orange camel-like thing in the center, and a sideways stripe that looked like a table under the vertical striped windows. Speechless at her change of heart, he helped her put Shapeshifter back in the frame and on the wall, and impulsively suggested a Chinese place down the street. Her reply stuck with him.
“I don’t really like Chinese food, but let’s go anyway. Maybe you’ll show me something I’ve been missing.”