THE MODERNISTS
A fanfic by K.T
Type: shounen-ai/1x2/3x4
Date: 2/27/02
Fanmail: kether@hell.com



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The bar was near closing, but the after-hours were always reserved for the likes of them. The owner had a great interest in their work and they were treated like royalty, with privileges and freebies. It was a quaint little bar, somewhere in the burrows of Greenwich, where it was thought the great art of today was born.

Although all kinds of styles and phases went through there, one table was specially privileged. A table of five. The so-called Modernists.

The best view of the cabaret, Open bar 27/7/365 and the first ones to get the lowdown on new dealers. The owner, Mr.Kushrenada, was an avid art collector, and his wife, Lady Une, ran a small gallery downtown. Most of their friends were important people in important places, who whenever they came from Europe would visit the bar frequently. One of the five modernists got their first solo exhibit thanks to one of their friends, Count Merquise. With time, he decided to be his patron.

A surrealist, a cubist, a minimalist, an abstract-expressionist and a pop artist. No extensive education, just the basics. No high wealth (except for one of them, having been born into it). They were just geniuses, and it was well known. The evening grew late, and the bar was emptying. Lady Une, who was cleaning the glasses behind the counter, and the cabaret girl who was practicing some dance steps, where the only ones remaining there besides them.

It was a typical evening. One of them drew a cigarette from his pack and lit it with the candle on top of the table.

"I thought you quit," wondered the surrealist, frowning.

"I quit quitting." replied the minimalist.

"Sooo, how's it going guys? What's new this week?" the abstract-expressionist inquired merrily, cupping his face in his hands as he leaned his elbows against the table.

"Well, I finished my piece. You know-the one about the violin?" replied the surrealist, as he removed his jacket. The minimalist imitated him.

"Nice going Quatre! How'd it turn out? Did you do what I said, about splashing some blue on it? I think it will give it a cool twist!" the abstract-expressionist chirped, shifting on his chair. The cubist sitting beside him grunted in annoyance.

"He's not you, Duo. At least he can draw."

"Wha- I can SO draw. I'm just more interested in the texture of the paint! The way it drips, the way it splashes, the way it..."

"Hahaha yeah whatever Maxwell, we all know you can't draw for shit. You're just trying to cover it up by attacking canvas with crazy colored paint. Seriously, did you really think you could be the new Pollock? [1]" the pop artist teased, smirking. The abstract-expressionist's face turned beet red.

"You snuck into my studio!! You-you-Voyeur!!"

"No, I didn't. I was visiting Yuy, but you always leave your stuff lying around your space. I just advise you to be more consistent with your work. Just last week you did that huge piece about scythes, Basquiat-like [2]. You won't get a show if you keep doing that." The pop artist said, taking a drag off his cigar. The surrealist waved his arms around trying to get rid of the smoke. He looked very annoyed by it.

"Ugh. I will never get used to all this smoke. You guys should seriously consider the patch."

"Hold on a damn minute, Wufei.." the abstract-expressionist started. " Its not like you draw all that much, or use much paint for that matter. You just trace faces off COMIC BOOKS!! [3] Your pieces hang around like a Macy's poster in half-tone, you sell-out!"

"At least I get shown."

The remaining three let out a low "oooo".

"Guys, guys, come on, it's not worth fighting over this. We've all got shown, so it's no big deal. Every period has its favorite style, I guess Duo's (whatever his style is) is not popular right now..." the surrealist held his hands up, motioning to calm the situation down.

"Yeah, but the only one here who's had a solo show is Trowa. And that was just because that Merquise dude got the hots for him."

"He does not!" the surrealist cried, looking flustered for the first time that evening. The minimalist took the last drag of his cigarette and put it out in the ashtray.

"It wasn't a big show, though. And I didn't sell anything." He retorted. The surrealist shifted his chair closer to him.

"I didn't sell anything in my last show either. I'm starting to think people liked my floating chairs better than my self-playing violins [4]. Although Dorothy made a pretty good profit on her photographs of that crazy bondage stuff she's into."
The surrealist's face reddened as he suddenly remembered the content of the pictures. "How about you, Heero? How did the collaboration with Relena go?" he turned his attention to the cubist, shooing away the mental pictures of him and his minimalist friend as the models of Dorothy's highly suggestive photographs [5].

"Oh Jesus God! I don't EVER want to work with that woman again, She's psycho!" the cubist snapped, in a sudden bout of emotion. "We had to stand against a white wall, covered in white paint with cutouts of newspaper words plastered all over us. It was supposed to be about "how artists are considered invisible (hence the white wall and white paint on us) and incoherent (paper words that had nothing to do with each other) on us. Its not like anyone could BUY the piece anyway! And as far as my work, didn't sell a single one. Fucking bitch. I hate dadaists." [6]

"Hahahaha, wasn't she the one who did that painting of a maxi-pad and titled it: 'This is not a maxi-pad'? What was it then? An elephant-sized tampon? Deranged hag!" the abstract-expressionist cracked.

"Seriously."

"Hell, even Trowa's stuff's better than hers."

"Duo!"

"Well, Quatre, it's not like he has any subject matter...at all."

"Just because he doesn't have any subject matter, doesn't mean its bad! It's the color fields that matter. They can make you experience emotions like any figurative or landscape artist could."

"Yeah, they make me feel like I want to kill myself [7]." The abstract-expressionist said, mimicking choking himself.

"Good, then it's working." The minimalist replied. He looked pleased.

The group continued to chitchat, until Lady Une, as much as she liked having them around, politely asked them to leave. A new week was upcoming and she needed to be up early to get to the gallery.

"Well, till next week it shall be. Work hard guys! You never know when THE dealer will show up at your door." The surrealist said as he got up from his chair, followed by the minimalist.

"Or in Duo's case, kick you from HIS front door!" the pop artist joked, creating a round of snickers that pissed off the abstract-expressionist.

"At least I tried!"

"We have to get going Duo, remember you promised to pose for me tonight." The cubist said, in a serious tone, but with a hint of mischief. The abstract-expressionist smiled as if reading his thoughts.

"Oh I've got a few positions-er-poses in mind to show you."

They walked over to the front of the bar, where everyone said their goodbyes. But just as they were about to leave, a girl came running up to them, shrieking in the chilly air loud enough to wake the dead.

"HEEEEEEERRROOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!!"

The cubist's face went white as a ghost, and clung for dear life to the abstract-expressionist's back.

"GET AWAY FROM ME!!" he screamed, but the girl seemed oblivious to his pleads. She ran up to him and "glomped" him so hard it made him wish he could make her disappear into an infinite-vanishing-points perspective plane (into nothingness, in layman terms).

"I have a great idea for our next piece! I just had to run here to tell you. Okay, are you ready? Picture this: you, me and 100 urinals!"

"NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!!!"

They all screamed, and made a run for it before it was too late.

-owari-.


Notes!

[1] Jackson Pollock was an American abstract-expressionist who became famous for his paintings of paint drips. There's a movie about him. It's called "Pollock". Ed Harris plays him.

[2] Jean-Michel Basquiat was an abstrack/street artist in the early 80's, who's work looked like children's doodles and graffiti. He was also a DJ and went out with Madonna. There's a movie about him too. It's called "Basquiat". Gary Oldman and David Bowie (who plays Andy Warhol) are in it.

[3] Wufei's character is based on Roy Lichtenstein, an American Pop Artist in the 60's and 70's who did blown-up prints of comic book panels.

[4] Quatre's character is based on Rene Magritte, a Belgian surrealist of the 50's who was famous for painting things that floated for no reason, among other things.

[5] I made Dorothy a photographer in the likes of Robert Mapplethorpe, who's pictures were highly explicit in sexual nature (mostly gay).

[6] Hahha dadaists suck. I made Relena be one, in the image of Marcel Duchamp, a famous french dada artist who used urinals as art. Sorry all you Duchamp fans out there, I just don't like him, or dada at all.

[7] Trowa's art was inspired by Russian minimalist/color field artist Mark Rothko, who's art, in my opinion is very depressing. Ironically, he ended up killing himself.