“That’s it, boys and girls, while we still have the light, I think it’s brushes down in 5.”
Madam Galdén paced the private studio examining the works of her young charges
“This is pure still life, simply paint what you see before you, there is no need to embellish, no need to be fanciful with light or composition, the truest representation of what is in the scene si vous plait!”
The children began adding paint furiously at this sudden indication of time, no doubt ruining in their haste, the practiced skills she had been trying to pass on to these 7 and 8 year olds, but, their families paid by the hour and nothing more, and she had the next class to see.
“D’accord… that will do us for this day, please, bring your works to the front, veet veet!”
Daton lowered his brush to the pine easel and glanced at the door, he’d be in trouble again.
“Tres bien Ruppert, this is a great improvement, your apples appear less cube like this time.”
“Donald… what is this?! Those are oranges, not limes, why are they green boy!?”
“But they look green to me maam, and the apples aren’t red besides! Mother says who is a school maam to question what a young man of good breeding and artistic merit sees?”
Donald stormed from the front of the school room to the back and began packing his materials indignantly
petite merde!… dare I ask, Messieurs Fauxfor-Green?”
Daton, who had hung at the back of the room, without bringing his work up, cringed back.
“Mon Dieu!” the Madam exclaimed and hammered the ruler against the canvas where the coal-skinned hulking faceless creature appeared on the canvas, with just a thick prehensile appendage where it’s features should appear. I was inspecting the fruit. Young master Daton knew this was because these did not appear like that where this creature was from, but he didn’t know how he knew that…
She flipped the canvas around.
The rest of the discourse was in french, from what he had learned from Master Jean’s classes, Madame Galdén was quite put out that he had once again made up some ‘nasty’ horror that he had put into his oils… His mother would be summoned of course. It might be back to Dr Williamson
But what course was there to take when maam instructed them to paint what they saw before them? It wasn’t his fault school-maams had gotten themselves to such an age they couldn’t see the stranger parts of the world, was it?