I have not written about Allen and Megan much lately, for I have been letting Sabasa lead the way with the two of them. With her help, they have begun to make progress in their relationship as well as his art. Indeed, Allen has started to take some inspiration from Megan herself—one of his more recent pieces incorporated her tattoos, and for this evening he asked her to sit for him so he could do her portrait.
I joined them when Allen already had his sketchbook out, beginning to shape the lines of Megan’s face. She was sitting carefully in a stool by the window, doing her best not to move too much, but she couldn’t help but smile at the concentration on Allen’s face.
It delights me, the warmth and understanding that is between the two of them, so soon after they have come together. They did do this a bit backwards, diving into the deeper, more essential parts of themselves right away, but I think they have done it well, building a foundation for themselves that will last them quite a while. Much of that can be credited to Sabasa, who has taught them to look for beauty together and in one another, and that makes such a difference.
A few minutes in to the sketching, Allen glanced up, saw Megan’s smile, and laughed a little. “Stop smiling,” he said.
“Don’t you want a portrait with me smiling?”
“You’re making me lose my focus.”
“Oh, well, mustn’t have that.” And Megan put on a stern expression that had Allen laughing even more.
Quiet fell again, but this time Megan let her eyes roam around the room. Allen has transformed the guest bedroom of his home to a studio, and it now holds all of his work. His original piece has a place of honor on the wall, but other canvases are stacked on the dresser beneath it. They also lie across the bed and are leaned against the wall and under the window and behind the door. He has been quite prolific!
Megan thought so, too. “You’ve done more than you’ve shown me,” she accused him.
He glanced up, surprised. “No, I haven’t. Some of this is rough draft stuff. I really ought to go through it all and get rid of some of it.” He glanced around, too.
“I absolutely forbid you to get rid of any of this,” Megan said. “It’s all so beautiful, Allen.”
I agreed with her. Each of his pieces has its own distinct flavor and vision, and yet they seem to flow into one another, as if I could trace one line from one painting to the next.
“Well, what am I supposed to do with it all?” Allen laughed, grabbing his eraser to correct a line.
Megan gasped. “You should do a showing!”
He frowned, the sketch forgotten for a moment. “A showing?”
“Yes, yes, yes!” She jumped up and plucked the sketchbook out of his hands so she could sit in his lap. “Oh, Allen, it would be wonderful. We could have it at my mom’s house—I was telling you about it, right, how it has all that beautiful light? And she’d just love to help us out. And you could invite all your friends and family and maybe a couple of people who might want to buy the art, and we’d just make a fun fancy evening out of it. Oh, say yes!”
He set his hands on her waist, laughing in the way people do when they are bewildered. “Megan, hold on, I don’t know if I’m ready to show off my work yet. And I haven’t even met your mom.”
“Well, I’ve told her all about you and she says it needs to happen soon,” Megan said, running a finger along Allen’s collar. “And why aren’t you ready to show your work? I tell you every day how beautiful it is.”
Allen still hesitated. I couldn’t quite see the source of his doubt, so I called out to Sabasa.
“He has rediscovered his love for art, but he does not yet feel like an artist,” she explained to me. “And since he does not take his work seriously, why should anyone else?”
I was amazed by this, and I tried to show Allen that I was. How could he not believe that his work is worthy of serious consideration?
Megan saw through his hesitation and leaned forward to kiss him. “Hey,” she said, still holding his face. “You trust me, right? You said that I have a good eye.”
“You do.”
“Then trust me,” she insisted. “It is good stuff, Allen. You should at least let some other people see it. Even if you don’t try to sell it, even if it doesn’t go any farther than our friends and family. You should still celebrate the things you’re doing.”
He looked around at his paintings. “Well,” he said, “I guess there are some other people who have been saying they want to see it.” He looked at Megan with one eyebrow raised. “But I’m not doing anything until I’ve met your mom. And I’m not going to have any showing that doesn’t have this portrait of you in it, so the sooner I get it done—”
She kissed him again, this time exuberantly, and danced back to her stool. Laughing, and also turning this idea over in his head, he went back to his sketching.
I am glad that he is giving it some serious consideration. I like this idea very much, and so does Sabasa. So we will both try to encourage him to go through with it. The easiest way of making it happen may be to keep Megan after him—she is determined that he will only see the best of himself. Is that not what a partner should do?