Open Coruscant Chiaroscuro

[Mazeryl Xiron]

Spoiler: Music IC

The piano curled around the room, enveloping like a blanket of warm air, with bell-like whispers as soothing as a touch on skin or nestling lips. It permeated the planes, a kind of promise to keep breathing the sound of life into the interior of the building, where the outside world of Coruscant was a chorus of chaos, and every sound was but a broken heartbeat.

Beautiful, she thought of that piano, slow and steady and she stood no differently. Yet, the music was just the background where at the forefront was the main attraction.

The melody set the mood with liquid notes that lifted spirits into those planes of peace, but the paintings and the sculptures were what lured the visitors to the Amour Art Museum.

Located in the Senate District, it was not the grandest or the greatest of art museums on Coruscant, with the Uscru District boasting no less, but it was local and it was large and it was alive with the light of a hundred and then some artists from all over, living or dead.

Mazeryl Xiron had come to see them. Well, she had not come all this way from her homeworld of Karazak to see an art gallery, but she had afforded herself a moment of respite amid her business trip, even if she maintained the business suit.

Negotiations were for later, meetings were adjourned, conferences scheduled for tomorrow and the weight of governing an entire planet was lessened and lightened. Now was the time and opportunity to mingle with the art.

So Maze walked the floor, wandered the hall, having since convinced her escort to take a seat where she could not see them and keep silent or else wait outside. This was her time. This is for me. But what are you for?

She queried to the dagger behind the display case, catching the word ‘ceremonial’ etched into the golden plate. It was a pretty thing, if pretty ancient, and just as likely to have sacrificed countless souls. Some histories are best left . . .

Sighing away her woes, Maze continued on, halting once more as she gazed up at a painting on the wall. Beautiful, she thought of that painting. And haunting. Chiaroscuro was the style and the name was ‘The Fallen Feast’.

Spoiler

 

[Claudias Tannaras]

The trip back to Coruscant had been about as turbulent as Claudias had come to expect. As per usual, he'd opted to take public transport, rather than the standard issue yacht he was provided by the Brentaali assembly. He'd never liked the ships, and travel on publicly available ships always felt more grounded. Admittedly, the company he kept was often... less than savory, but the constant drinking and lack of manners didn't much bother him. To Claudias, it was a marked improvement over disgust veiled behind honeyed words.

He'd come on business, but, being the midday, he didn't have any major meetings for the next few hours. He hadn't anticipated the lack of a full schedule when he arrived, so rather than be pleasantly surprised, he was panicked and confused. The man hadn't interacted with enough people to invite anyone, or schedule appointments, or just message someone to join him. Claudias was left with complete freedom... and he had no idea what to do with it. That had only lasted for five minutes though.

Without much thought, he'd simply looked around a map of the Senate District. Museums, Operas, high class bars and restaurants-- all things most could only dream of experiencing. The man eventually chose to randomly pick his destination, rather than waste his free time considering his options. That destination had been an art museum-- one he'd never even heard of. He regretted the decision almost immediately, but he couldn't be bothered to change it now.

The museum was... tranquil, to say the least. There was hardly any traffic, and the art was modestly displayed. It had hardly been what Claudias had expected. The museums on Brentaal had all been built by the noble houses, with many set up for the explicit purpose of glorifying themselves. Any museum on Brentaal usually contained artifacts related to one of the noble family's, each one pristinely kept enclosed in ornate finery. Descriptions would go on for paragraphs about the long histories behind them, and how a specific noble family was so great and powerful because of it.

...this was not the same by any standard. The environment actually felt alien to the man, with how minimalistic and simple the interior was. Blank white walls, basic bright lights, and simple podiums with items clearly displayed. It was a style that heavily prioritized function over form, and it was a thing to behold. That wasn't even mentioning the artwork itself.

Quietly, Claudias observed, piece after piece. There were quite odd looking portraits, some as recently painted as a few years ago, and some that were centuries old. The whole experience lacked most sound-- save for the familiar tapping of his cane against the floor. He'd tune it out, ofcourse, but to any others, their eyes might be drawn to the middle aged man in the toga, glancing at works of art like he was from another galaxy.
​

@Die Shize

 

[Mazeryl Xiron]

Spoiler: Music IC [Recurring]

‘The Fallen Feast’, beckoned the painting, with the swollen peach on the left, on the right, then in the glass.

As though… Maze formed her thought, tried to, trailing off like a detached passenger plane now on a course to nowhere.

As though.. She took a step closer, gazing up at the art on the wall, with the wooden platter almost elongated like the yolk of a dead egg, and in its lifeless bosom was the womb of a peach, without nectar and never able to juice a tongue.

As though… Maze sighed, shaking her head as to the folly of the meaning. Indeed, what did it all mean? What was the point? The purpose? What prick painted such a thing!?

“Hey,” Maze called out to no one in particular, though it turned out to be a middle-aged man in a toga with a tapping cane. Kark, no better voice.

“What do you make of this?” She nodded politely at ‘The Fallen Feast’; not as a miscreant with a malignant accent.

“Three fruit...one glass...a wall and a table and a platter as swollen as the rest…” Shaking her head, Maze resigned her musings with a sigh. And what do you think of it, toga?

@Tom

 

[Claudias Tannaras]

Artistic talent wasn't something Claudias had been born with. He had a feeling noone was necessarily born with it at all, ofcourse, but pursuing it simply didn't interest him. There were other subjects, other interests that captured him. Politics, economics, the histories of his world and the broader galaxy. They contained far more expression and nuance than the art he was used to. Ofcourse... this wasn't the art he was used to, so he was a bit out of his element in that regard.

He came upon an abstract piece; a portrait of a long dead politician, made entirely of standard republic credits. He'd remembered reading about the Arkanian senator in his youth; apparently the man was rumored to literally swim in money. Claudias never bought the rumor, (the sources were dubious at best and it was spread by the senator's rivals) but apparently this artist was completely behind it... or it was commissioned.

He pondered over the political nature of the piece a bit more before he heard words. A rattling rang out as he jumped, the scraping of his cane rapidly shifting up and down within a split second. A palm was placed against the blank white walls, and heavy breathing escaped his throat. The woman might notice just how violently the man's entire right arm was twitching.

For a man so used to focusing on words, the few people in the museum would get to witness one of the few times in his life where he'd focused on something else, and was violently jerked back to what he prided himself on. They'd also get to witness him taking in deep breaths, rotating his wrist, and massage his lips. Slowly turning his attention to his right, Claudias walked a bit closer to what the woman was referring to. He hadn't said a word; trying to make everything seem as casual as possible, even as his neck twitched.

"I b-b-believe... well..." Claudias began, quickly stumbling over what he was trying to say. There were plenty of ways to spin this; he was a master at the art of flattery and appeasement... over people, not pictures. He couldn't bullshit his way out of this, which in all honesty, he didn't mind. Taking in a deep breathe, he simply stated, "I'm... stumped." The words hung in the air for a few seconds, before he added, "On m-m-my world, we... d-don't really have art like this. Hell, up until about... s-s-ix thousand years ago, we d-d-didn't have much art at all." He explained, as brief a history lesson as he could provide.

"It d-d-doesn't help th-that the only p-people who c-can commission art on m-m-my world, or own g-galleries to display it, h-happen t-to just want b-busts of themselves, their ancest-tors, or some other n-nepotistic nonsense." Claudias clarified, head shifting to the side violently. "If... if I w-were to guess... I'd s-say th-that the artist is t-trying to f-f-f-ffffffOCUS on... life? C-consumption?" He said, providing a bland, but honest analysis.

"...or m-maybe that's my hunger t-talking."
​

@Die Shize