Chiaroscuro Chapter 11

It's Emery's exhibition opening night + Love stories lost to time.

Dearest Readers,

I am currently reading Sally Rooney’s, ‘Beautiful World Where Are You,’ and in the book, one of the characters, Alice, visits the Musée d’Orsay in Paris. While there, she sees several of Edouard Manet’s portraits of Berthe Morisot. Looking at each painting, she notices how Manet has captured Morisot’s expressions and how her likeness changes - she’s complex, expressive, deep in thought in one painting, and in the next she’s soft-featured, pretty, gazing out at the viewer, her gaze at once uncertain and revealing. Manet painted Morisot more times than any other of his models. More so than his own wife. “For six years he painted her, and six years after she met him, and apparently at his suggestion, she married his brother. He painted her just once more, her wedding ring glittering dark on her delicate hand, and then never again. Don't you think that's a love story?”

There is something so sad about a love story that is forbidden, like Morisot and Manet’s. Next week I’m going to delve into it. I’m always drawn to stories lost to history, especially love stories.

Chapter 2 Part 1 is now live for free subscribers for a short time. But, be warned - this chapter contains drug use and sex scenes. So, enjoy :)

Joey xx

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To my dear paying subscribers, Emery is back for another instalment of Chiaroscuro. Emery has finally gotten the exhibition with a top-tier gallery she’d been dreaming of. But will things go to plan or will fate have other things in store on opening night?

Chapter 10 recap

Emery waits nervously in her studio for Liv, who arrives late and appears tense. As they start the session, the atmosphere is interrupted by Quentin, who announces that Emery has been offered a solo show, a significant opportunity she hadn’t expected. Liv, visibly uncomfortable, decides to leave early, offering brief congratulations. Although Emery feels a moment of regret over Liv’s departure, she turns her attention to celebrating with Quentin. She’s thrilled by the chance but feels overwhelmed, knowing she now has only a month to prepare the show. Despite her excitement, the pressure of the offer and the memory of her mother weigh heavily on her.

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Chapter 11

Emery stood across the road from Street and Co. Gallery, taking in her artworks arranged in the polished space, far removed from the grimy studio where they had first taken shape. Each canvas looked transformed, elevated somehow by their crisp new frames and the pristine white walls of the gallery. She felt a strange thrill at seeing her paintings arranged in such a sterile environment, knowing the secrets they held.

Near one of her works, Rupert’s imposing silhouette loomed, as he surveyed one of her red paintings with the kind of discerning eye, she both craved and dreaded. Natalie was swarming nearby, talking to a short, grey-haired woman whose sequinned blazer threw pins of light from the gallery lights across the space. Quentin flitted between two small groups, chatting and guiding their gazes to one of the darker works. A bar was being prepared near the gallery entrance, glasses clinking softly as they were unpacked and arranged on a starched tablecloth.

Emery had reached out to Alexis Grant, the curator from the National Gallery whom she’d met at the Waldorf Prize, and Alexis had agreed to write the catalogue essay – the piece of writing that accompanied any art exhibition. Emery had exchanged photos of her paintings – some finished and some still in progress – with Alexis, and in turn, she’d asked Emery all sorts of questions about her work and inspiration. Like if she used acrylics or oils and how she began her process of painting. Did she meditate beforehand, or did she put music on to paint to? The entire phone conversation had only been about forty-five minutes, but Alexis had somehow pulled all the best bits of her artmaking, inspiration, background, and theories out of her psyche and transformed it into a type of written artwork of sorts. It was some kind of wizardry, much like painting.  After reading Alexis’ essay, Emery had titled the exhibition, Shadow work.