Links from the Show at a Glance:

 

Artist: Dorothy Siemens

Title of Art: Wonder-Rapture

Artist’s Website: https://dorothysiemens.com/

Instagram: @dorothy.siemens

 

Dorothy’s Lyrical Language series

 

Support Rebekah on Patreon if you want more episodes! https://www.patreon.com/rebekahnemethy

 

Art Ink Submission Guidelines: rebekahnemethy.com/artinksubs

 

 

Art Ink Podcast Transcript:

 

[Intro:]

 

Hello my friends! Thank you for tuning in to a new episode of Art Ink!

 

I’m late with this episode, and I’m consciously preventing myself from pulling out the S-word. But I feel I owe you an explanation, nevertheless. I do this weird thing I’ve noticed that’s kind of a pattern for me: I seem to procrastinate on the things I want to do most, by unintentionally overcommitting myself. I also do this other thing that I’m afraid many of us in capitalistic societies do, and that is I makes choices based on money. It pains me to admit that, because I’ve spend a lot of time promising myself I will let my heart weigh in more heavily than my mind over the past few years, but unfortunately my head and my wallet still has an equal vote in my decisions.

 

At the end of a long texting vent with my BFF last week I apologized for complaining to her typing, I hope you’re not rolling your eyes at me, you’re probably even busier than that (she has two kids on totally different schedules, a job, and is going to school full time too), and I know I do this to myself. She replied, I’m not rolling my eyes, it’s like you have four jobs!

 

Even though I was aware that I have far too much to juggle right now, it hadn’t quite struck me until she did the math for me. Oh my god, I thought, I do have four jobs. And in order to prioritize this podcast, I just recently had to resign from some volunteer work I’ve been doing over the past 6 months. Yikes… so I actually had five jobs?

 

I didn’t wake up one day and say I’m going to use up every spare second of time I have every week… but back in March, when I had only 1 job I did reach out to a couple of animal organizations that I love. One of them was looking for volunteers and the other was looking for part-time seasonal help. And I ended up getting involved with both of them. So that was my new commitment for Saturday and Sunday.

 

Then, in June, a friend from my former photography job offered me a contract my logical side couldn’t resist, good money for working only 3 days per week for the next 6 months. After a happy but stressful year of totally freelancing doing audiobooks and voiceover, I thought it’d be nice to have a bit of consistent work so that I could focus on, guess what?, this podcast in my free time (which, at this point, was the remaining 2 days per week).

 

So I stopped auditioning for audiobooks and I went out of office on my Fiverr account… but the thing is, the audiobooks didn’t stop coming. Authors I didn’t even know were finding my samples on Audible, other clients I’d done a couple of jobs for were consistently sending me more work, and the stash of stories I had queued up for Art Ink rapidly started to dwindle as I hustled more and more.

 

Luckily, I only have 2 more months left on my contract at the photography job, and the busy season at the animal sanctuary will also be wrapping up around the same time, so that should free up some time.

 

I have soooo many great ideas for the future of this show. Not just story ideas, and lists and lists of artists that I want to feature, but also lists of ideas about teaching storytelling to creatives of all kinds, and reaching out to authors and writers willing to help create more content, AND ideas for special episodes. But, this all takes time. Time, time, time. Despite my inability to do simple math to count how many jobs I’ve signed up for, I’m kind of a nerd when it comes to project tracking. I track the time spent on all of my audiobook projects and, although I’ve been a bit lax about tracking every little bit of my time spent on Art Ink, I can tell you that the time I have tracked clocks in at 144 hours… so that’s about 10 hours per episode. And, like I said, there have been some days when I didn’t track my time. Like the entire 5 days I spent at my recent creativity retreat. I had no internet there, so I didn’t bother trying to use the web-based tool I normally use.

 

So why am I telling you all of this? Well, I want to let you in on a little secret, and it’s a super scary secret to share, because of this silly superstition I have that wishes revealed don’t come true. I actually have this daydream quite often… I imagine Art Ink being a daily podcast. I imagine it being the thing I work on full time. I imagine an inbox full of submissions from other artists with the story bug, and emails from listeners that say they discovered a new artist, or even more amazing, artists who say listeners found and bought their art after listening to a story here.

 

The truth about podcasting is that it is a labor of love. Independent podcasters podcast because they WANT to do it, not because it’s a quick and easy way to fame and fortune, which is actually a quite comical misconception among newbie podcasters. I am paying for this podcast to go out into the world, in money AND in time. I do have a few loyal Patrons whose kind donations pay for the monthly hosting fees for this podcast, but aside from that, the only payment I’m getting is the satisfaction of doing it. And, unfortunately, that does limit how much I can do when I have to decide between paying my mortgage on time or putting out my podcast on time. Ugh. I hate capitalism. #1stworldproblems right?

 

But if you’re enjoying this show and you want more episodes I have great news, because you can always pledge your support at patreon.com/rebekahnemethy. With your help I might be able to more easily choose my heart over my head and maybe even get these episodes out on time! And you’ll also get a bunch of bonuses that you can only find on Patreon, like getting access to the show 2 days early, a copy of my Artsy Reflections audiobook, and a blooper reel that’s guaranteed to crack you up.

 

Ok, with that said, let’s get ready to dig into today’s story! Today’s featured artist is one of my favorite artists, and today’s cover art is, unfortunately, not for sale because I beat you to it! Haha.

 

I met Dorothy Siemens several years ago in an online art marketing course, and I’ve been hooked on her work ever since! The way her art is filled with layer upon layer of color and texture makes me swoon so much so that, many times, I’ve been shocked to discover that I’m looking at the progress photo of a half done, or even just begun, painting.

 

Dorothy mostly works in oil and cold wax with oil sticks, but she’s not afraid to experiment and often slips in other mediums and materials. Gold leaf is a recurring element in many of her pieces, and I’ve seen her beautifully incorporate collage into her paintings as well. Flowers, birds, and plant life (both real and imagined) are recurring themes in Dorothy’s work, and she’s brilliant at painting patterns that give this viewer an instant sense of relaxation. But Dorothy can also dazzle me when she dips into the realm of the abstract.

 

Wonder-Rapture, the piece that sparked today’s story, is actually one of Dorothy’s more abstract paintings, so let me repaint it into your imagination until you get a chance to check it out yourself.

 

[Art Description:]

 

So, Wonder-Rapture is a diptych made up of two square panels. The panel on the left is primarily blue, and the one on the right is pink. The tops of both panels have, what looks to me, like gold clouds. On the bottom of them both are many different words blending into each other and the backgrounds in various shades of blue, pink, and gold. The most prominent word on the blue panel is “wonder,” and on the pink panel the word that stands out the most, if you haven’t already guessed, “rapture.” The element that connects the two pieces is a thick calligraphic white line that loops across the horizon along bottom third.

 

The truth is, when I first saw these paintings I fell in love… and I was absolutely convinced, when I recalled them later on, that the script actually said, “love.” I was wrong, though the white line seems like writing at a glance, it’s an abstract style known as “asemic writing,” which intentionally leaves the words open to interpretation or, in my case, imagination.

 

I call this work of fiction, Diptych in Love… enjoy.

 

[Story:]

 

 

Lila

 

She was running as fast as she could, as far as she could, but she didn’t know why she was running or who she was running from. No matter. Astrid had been 100% right thus far and so when Lila saw the words, “RUN AWAY NOW!” she didn’t hesitate.

 

Her burning thighs wouldn’t take her any further, though, so after a quick glance over her shoulder to reassure herself the street behind her was empty, she slowed then stopped; panted with her head between her knees.

 

Lila didn’t know how far she’d run, but it felt like miles. She took in her surroundings, then crept into the shadow of a large oak tree in the darkest nearby yard and squatted next to it as her breathing slowed to its regular rhythm. The moon was just a sliver in the sky, but a surprising number of houses still sent beams of yellow-orange light into the street.

 

A car slowly washed out the warm tinted light with large, bright white high beams.

 

Lila held her breath.

 

The white cones continued past though, and Lila sighed as the darkness enveloped her surroundings once again, seemingly darker now.

 

The white, bold letters flashed in her mind once again, “RUN AWAY NOW!” and Lila relived the feeling of the energy Astrid had sent along with that cryptic message. It was like an invisible oxygen-draining wave had washed over her body, amplifying the white noise in her ears and sending goosebumps rippling down her skin as it rushed past. Fear.

 

It was one of many messages that only she had ever been able to see. Lila’s body sagged with the thought; with the way it isolated her. Who would ever believe her if she needed to find help? What if Astrid needed help?

 

Lila laughed out loud before she could stop herself; threw her hand over her mouth, peered around with wide eyes that were, once again, adjusting to the dim light.

 

Still alone. Still safe.

 

The thing was, though, Astrid was a painting, well two paintings that went together. A diptych, they called it, Lila had come to find out. Laughing at herself seemed to make it ok, though, as if the laughter negated the fact that she had named a painting; negated any feelings Lila might have developed for Astrid.

 

She found herself reminiscing about the day she pulled back the dusty afghan to reveal the two canvases. She was rummaging through her late grandmother’s attic, moving onto another pile of long-forgotten boxes, and there they were, leaned up against the cardboard like a pair of tipped dominoes.

 

Lila could still remember the feeling in her stomach when she first set eyes on them. She’d gasped at the beauty, and it was as if she’d swallowed the dust swirling through the late afternoon sunbeams and they’d magically transformed into butterflies frolicking deep in her belly.

 

She slid the paintings apart to find that the white flowy script connected them to one another. The word love swept across the two canvases, making them one. The first square panel was blue with a gold cloud floating at the top. The second canvas was pink with a golden cloud. Both paintings had various words scribbled beneath the main lettering, various shades of blue, gold, and pink blended them in and out of the background.

 

Lila remembered this moment so vividly, taking in every detail of the artwork, standing there, enraptured, until the dust settled and the slivers of sun disappeared one by one. She knew what she had seen.

 

Yet later that night, when Lila was hanging the paintings, things had changed.

 

“Pretty paintings,” Naomi had said from behind her, “I never saw that at your grandma’s house.”

 

“Me neither, it was up in the attic,” Lila said, “I figured a little more love couldn’t hurt?”

 

“What do you mean?” Naomi asked.

 

“Ah… isn’t it pretty obvious,” Lila collected her hammer and level; was closing the box of nails.

 

“Well, I’m no art critic, but it looks pretty abstract to me… but if you get a love vibe from it, I’m not going to argue with you.”

 

Lila spun around, arms full of tools, “what is there to interpret?” she laughed. “It clearly says…” but as she looked up Lila trailed off, because the word wasn’t there anymore. “That’s strange… I could’ve sworn it said love.”

 

“That first loop kinda looks like an L,” Naomi said, “and I guess that could be an E at the end, but that’s as far as I can take it.”

 

She was right… the white script was nothing but a thick, looping line… not a word at all.

 

How could I have misread that? Lila thought. How could I have ‘read’ it in the first place?

 

“That’s ok, it’s still pretty,” Naomi said, and she pecked Lila on the cheek before she left the room.

 

A bit dumbfounded, Lila watched as Naomi walked away. She turned back to the painting. Stared at it. She was sure the duo had said love.

 

After a moment Lila shook her head silently to herself and headed to the garage to unload her tools. As she’d returned to the living room, however, she looked up at the wall and stopped short. The thick white line that stretched across the canvas now said something else: “Company’s Coming,” it read, and in the next second a knock startled Lila out of her disbelief.

 

“What the fuck?” she whispered to herself.

 

Lila cautiously peered through the peephole, and sighed out her held breath when she recognized Mrs. Jones’ smiling green eyes peering over a mountainous plate of assorted cookies. “What’s all this Mrs. Jones?” Lila said pulling the door open.

 

“Oh we had leftovers from my granddaughter’s bake sale, and I thought I’d share the wealth. You know my metabolism isn’t what it used to be,” she said pushing the cookies through the doorway.

 

“That’s so kind of you, Mrs. Jones, thank you,” Lila said, “do you want to come in for-”

 

“No, no dear,” she was already walking away, “I”ve already gorged myself enough for one day, gotta burn off some these calories before the sun goes down.”

 

“Well thanks again,” Lila said, and Mrs. Jones threw a hand over her shoulder in a half wave as she speed walked across the yard.

 

By the time Lila got the cookies to the coffee table, the painting had returned back to its abstractly wordless state.

 

The next time Astrid had morphed to message Lila it had been with a single word: “Rain.”

 

“Look at that!” Lila had exclaimed.

 

“What?!” Naomi said, startled, but when she followed Lila’s gaze to the art on the wall her expression remained unchanged.

 

“The painting.”

 

“What about it?” she looked again.

 

“Nothing, I thought I saw a bug.” Lila lied.

 

And Naomi went back to her book.

 

Lila had gone out shopping sometime after that. When she headed inside the sky was blue and cloudless, just as it was when she stepped back out into the sunshine an hour later, but there was steam rising from the parking lot pavement now, which was also a shade darker than it had been before.

 

It was summertime standard practice for Lila to leave her windows open a crack… rain was extremely rare in this part of California, especially this time of year. But she hadn’t considered the painting’s prediction; had tried to put it out of her head.

 

Her soggy seat didn’t let her forget it for the rest of the ride home, though.

 

How funny that her butt was wet now too, Lila thought, coming back to her present predicament. She clutched her knees to her chest. At least it was a warm wet spot, which was, honestly, one of the main reasons she’d been able to sit there in the dark, in a stranger’s front yard for christsakes, for so long reminiscing. But if she was completely honest, she’d also have to admit that she was too scared to go back.

 

At least Naomi wasn’t home… she was safe… but what about Astrid? Oh, why didn’t I think to grab my phone? Lila thought.

 

“Love.” It was a flash of calligraphy in Lila’s mind accompanied by that fluttery feeling she’d come to expect. It was immediately followed by a wave of shame, then a splattering of confusion.

 

Lila had tried to tell Naomi about Astrid’s messages, but she just didn’t see them. Though Lila had conveniently omitted the numerous times Astrid had sent her “Love.”

 

Lila didn’t know if she should feel grateful, or guilty, or just plain crazy. It seemed silly to admit she might be in love with a painting, but clearly Astrid loved her, otherwise why would she try to protect her? And what was she protecting her from?

 

Eventually she found the bravery to creep back home. She reached the edge of the property much quicker than expected… all that running had seemed to take so long. It was as if she’d watched a movie in slow motion to make it last, but once it was over only 5 minutes had passed.

 

It felt odd to be sneaking around her own house. She was crouching behind a bush, peeking through branches when a nearby vehicle suddenly growled to life. Headlights illuminated the street as a dark-colored van raced away from the front of her house.

 

Lila snuck around the perimeter, checking the darkness for intruders. Assured that she was alone, at least outside, she turned her attention to the house. There were more lights on inside than there should’ve been, so she crept around a second time peeking in the windows as she went. When she finally made her way to the front door she found it was cracked open, the wood splintered near the knob.

 

She pushed the door slowly… tensing as a screechy squeak tore open the silence. When Lila finally got up the nerve to step fully into the room, the fear she’d felt just before she’d fled returned full force, static erupted in her ears and pulsed louder with each thundering thud of her heart. Astrid was gone.

 

 

Naomi

 

“Uhhh, why is your ass all wet?” Naomi asked, grinning, “Did you have an accident?”

 

Lila didn’t exactly slam her keys on the countertop, but she didn’t put them down gently either. She dropped the shopping bag to the floor and spun around. “It rained,” she said, all business, “no, actually it poured.”

 

“I’m sorry?”

 

“Naomi, we live in California and it’s July.” She stared at her wife hard.

 

Naomi finally raised an eyebrow in response.

 

Lila sighed. “You know earlier, when I asked you to look at the painting?”

“Yeah…”

 

“The painting… it-it’s been sending me messages. The white line changes into legible words sometimes, and… when it happened earlier I was trying to get you to see it,” Lila sighed again, “but it’s obvious you didn’t.” She looked at the ground.

 

“See what?” Naomi was suddenly in front of her, two hands gently gripping Lila’s shoulders. She moved one hand to Lila’s chin and tipped it upwards, “What didn’t I see?”

 

“It said, ‘rain,” Naomi, and that’s not the first time it’s predicted the future. It knew when Mrs. Jones was coming over, too.”

 

Naomi didn’t say anything. She didn’t want to lie, but she didn’t want to be overeager with her knowledge either. The truth was Naomi had gotten some of her own messages… she hadn’t seen the one about the rain earlier, though, and that news made her wary. It made her want to keep her art criticisms to herself.

 

“You don’t believe me, do you?” Lila interrupted Naomi’s thoughts.

 

“Of course, I do.” She said, and pulled Lila in for a hug. It may have seemed like Naomi was reassuring her wife, but she was just as much trying to comfort herself.

 

It wasn’t just the weird premonitions though, it was the angry, vindictive vibes Naomi felt sometimes… especially when she was close to Lila, like now, she felt it now.

 

Naomi glanced into the living room. Her eyes darted around the room, but avoided the wall. She wanted to disprove herself. Just a quick look to see that the paintings were exactly as- but they weren’t. The once graceful flourish that linked the two squares was now drippy and jagged, “Bloody Nomi,” it said.

 

“What’s wrong?” Lila asked, pulling back.

 

Naomi must have flinched or squeezed her too hard or… something. She wasn’t sure. She tried to look anywhere but at the sinister art, but Lila had already caught her gaze and spun around to see.

 

Luckily, however, as Naomi had expected, they were receiving private messages. She did her best to calm her face, to act normal, to pretend literally anything else was happening.

 

“So… salads?” Naomi forced a smile, “Is that what we decided for tonight?” She didn’t wait for an answer, though, and began pulling vegetables out of the fridge. She rolled a barely ripe tomato into the center of a cutting board and grabbed her chef knife. On the very first slice, though, Naomi’s knife slipped across the fruit’s firm, smooth surface and slid into the meaty flesh of her thumb.

 

The knife was just recently sharpened, and so it took a few seconds for Naomi to register the pain, clean and quick as that slice was. Well, quick anyway, definitely not clean. Bloody was a euphemism, Naomi thought, bitterly. She managed to avoid looking at the living room wall on their way out to the car.

 

Six stitches later Lila and Naomi were back home, sipping on gin and tonics, and still regretting (and digesting) their vending machine dinner from hours earlier. The alcohol was making it a little easier for her to ignore the foreshadowing twins… but not for long.

 

“So, I’ve been doing some research,” Lila brought her laptop with her as she sat herself on the arm of Naomi’s recliner. “This kind of abstract art, lines that look like writing but actually aren’t, is called asemic writing.” She twisted the screen towards Naomi, “Isn’t that interesting?”

 

“Sure,” Naomi said, and looked over the Google Image results for just enough time to act like she gave a shit. “Cool,” she concluded, turning her gaze back to her book.

 

“So, I was thinking maybe we should name her!”

 

“Name who?”

 

“The painting.”

 

“Her?”

 

“Yeah… what about Astrid?”

 

“Astrid? Why Astrid?”

 

“I dunno,” Lila giggled, “I couldn’t think of any other name that began with AS.”

 

“What about Ashley?”

 

“Too young and dumb sounding. Astrid sounds wise… elegant… don’t you think?”

 

“Sure, baby, Astrid’s a great name.” And Naomi faked her second smile of the evening. It didn’t feel good. She wasn’t proud of it, but she hadn’t told Lila about the message she’d seen right before she cut herself. Maybe she could trick this Asshole, Astrid, into believing she didn’t see her messages.

 

Naomi wasn’t sure if the painting was predicting the future or creating it, but either way, she needed to find out.

 

Lila was oogling the Ass art. Seriously, it was disgusting… like watching a gaggle of girls swoon over the Fonz for absolutely. no. reason. Naomi couldn’t help but follow Lila’s gaze to the wall, and what she saw turned her stomach.

 

“Love,” it said. Like the first time Lila had seen it.

 

Naomi realized that this was another first; this was the first time the painting was letting them both read the same message. It was toying with her. Making her watch as Lila was lured to it.

 

Then, the word “Love,” began to fade to gray and rippled until new words began to form. The words appeared in a bouncy yet elegant script: “Lila Loves Astrid.”

 

 

Astrid

 

The rain drummed on the van’s rooftop; fat, wet drops that echoed through the cavernous, tinny space. It was like the world was sobbing for her, because, of course, Astrid couldn’t cry herself. She wondered if it might offer her some relief if she could. Probably not, she decided.

 

She had no idea where she was going, and she had absolutely no interest in finding out. She was already leaving the one place in the world where she’d wanted to be. That’s all she needed to know.

 

Astrid had always had such strength and control over her thoughts. Not now, though. Now her visions were chaotic; bipolar. Flashes of the fear on Lila’s face kept returning. The panic that Astrid herself had caused. She hadn’t wanted to hurt her, hadn’t wanted to leave, but for Lila’s own safety it was the only option.

 

Astrid forced her thoughts back to her favorite memory: Lila’s wondrous brown eyes scanning every inch of her that day in the attic; the sparkling dust making her shimmer like some kind of magickal princess. It was truly love at first sight. What Lila didn’t know, though, was that Astrid had been seeing that moment for decades. To feel what she’d hoped to be true for so long in that instant was enrapturing: Lila loved her back.

 

Astrid hadn’t known she was already taken, though. How could she have known? Not that it would have mattered… the heart wants what it wants; feels what it feels; loves who it loves. And Astrid’s heart chose Lila.

 

And Naomi had used that against her. Used love as a weapon.

 

Astrid was conscious, precognitive, hell, you might even call her magickal… but she was not all-knowing. She’d suspected Naomi had been lying, but if there was even a slight chance that Lila could’ve been hurt… well that’s why Astrid had told her to run away.

 

Light stretched across the white interior in amoebic patterned trapezoids. A piece of bare metal flashed, reminded Astrid of the glint of the knife Naomi held, the reflection in her crazed eyes. “Either she goes… or you do,” she’d said, “if I have to lose her, it won’t be to you.”

 

Lila hadn’t known Naomi was just around the corner, crouching in the dark, when she got home. There was no time to explain, no time to say goodbye.

 

Again, Lila’s panicked expression appeared in vivid detail; impossible to push away.

 

After Lila took off, Naomi had gotten to work. She shoved the couch askew and twisted the coffee table. She thrust her elbow into the wall, leaving a divot that sprinkled crumbled sheetrock to the floor.

 

She left the room briefly, but after a bit of metallic shuffling from the garage, returned with a crowbar. She passed through the living room and headed out the front door. Astrid heard the dead bolt engage. Seconds later though, there was a thump, and the sound of splintering wood as Naomi pried her way back through.

 

Once Naomi had returned the crowbar she stomped back into the living room and pulled Astrid off of the walls, one hand gripping each panel. She roughly stacked Astrid’s pieces together and shoved her into an industrial sized garbage bag. And then, for Astrid, everything had gone black.

 

They were in the car for a while after that. Maybe an hour? And then suddenly there was a deep, muffled voice mixing with Naomi’s. Astrid felt herself being lifted, swinging through the air, and then gripped by large hands that pressed into the wrinkled plastic.

 

Car doors opened, closed. The sound of Naomi’s car faded away and Astrid felt the open air above her as the loud garbage bag was shimmied down her sides.

 

The smile that spread across the man’s face showed recognition, but Astrid didn’t have a clue who he was. She remained abstract, wary of showing her ability to a stranger.

 

He gently leaned her against the wall of his van and strapped her securely in place. And that’s where she’d been, watching the sickly looking light leak through the rain covered windows, and filled with a strange sense of regret for letting Lila live… for she knew now that death was probably kinder than Naomi.

 

 

[Conclusion:]

 

Thank you my friends for listening, and thank you Dorothy for sharing Wonder-Rapture with all of us.

 

Please check out the cover art when you can, and click through to the show notes to visit Dorothy’s website and follow her on Instagram. If you visit dorothysiemens.com you can find all of the current work she has for sale, which includes an entire series titled “Lyrical Language,” just in case you’re interested in seeing more paintings similar to today’s featured art. You can find Dorothy on Instagram @dorothy.siemens, and her most recent work is absolutely breathtaking. She been painting in purple and teal pallets the most beautiful little impressionistic landscapes and moonscapes… if you like Monet, you don’t want to miss out on Dorothy’s latest posts.

 

Seriously, go, right now… alright, my friends, that’s all for today. But make sure you’re subscribed to join me on our next art-inspired adventure.

 

Ciao!

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