The Art Gallery (Roger/Jane)

[ROGER DAVIS]

For a brief second, it was almost like stepping back into time. Of course, none of the paintings on the wall were hers. They couldn't have been hers, given that she had been dead for two years. He hadn't noticed the art gallery at first, and a kid that was standing outside had told him that it had been open only for a few weeks. He had almost passed it by until something had told him to go in. His eyes traveled over the pictures; April would have loved them, he told himself silently. He remembered when she had painted; sometimes it had been right after dropping acid and he almost had the opinion that her best work had been on drugs. But once she had started taking heroin, the painting and become less and less until the last painting he had seen of hers was a simple flower, wilting in death.

It should have been a precursor of what was to come, he told himself as his eyes traveled over one of the pictures, and for a second, he had to still his hand to keep it from touching the painting. The guitar was slung over his back, and he adjusted the strap as he stepped to the side, eyes traveling over to another painting. A flower. He felt a lump travel to his throat, and he moved, turning away from the painting, only to see a woman standing near where he was. The fact that she seemingly came from nowhere, his brows narrowed. "Jesus--" he started and brought a hand up, scratching at an itch on the back of his neck to try to hide the slight shock she had given him. "Sorry. You just surprised me." Of course she had, given that he had been in what was he was sure looked like deep thought. "I didn't think anyone was here. It was pretty empty when I came in."

[JANE EYRE]

Jane had been so excited when her gallery finally opened. Every piece in it had been done by a student from the projects, being displayed and sold for no fee on Jane's part. So far, one piece had been sold, for over $500 and she knew that it meant the world to the young man who had painted it. It felt great to help out these young men and women who had nothing else to give except their art.

As usual, Jane milled about the gallery, cleaning here and dusting there. Whenever a solitary soul would wander in, she typically left them alone unless they expressed interest in a piece. Today had been a very slow day, only having had three visitors until now.

Now, though, a young man had wandered in and was staring quite intently at a single painting. Jane left him alone for a few minutes but when he didn't move, just sort of spaced out instead, she walked over to him, ready to ask him what was wrong.

Fortunately, he snapped out of it before she had to bother him. Of course, it shocked him and Jane felt appropriately embarrassed about startling him. "Sorry..." She said shyly, and looked around. It was still pretty empty in fact. "This is a very new gallery and we haven't gotten enough publicity or word of mouth advertising going yet. I'm hoping it'll pick up in a few months."

[ROGER DAVIS]

Sorry.

"It's cool." Roger said, shaking his head slightly. "It's cool. I was just--" he motioned to the painting he had been looking at. "It's wicked good. It's not every day you see a proper art gallery around here. I mean, one this nice." he corrected himself quickly. "Most people 'round here are just hawking their stuff on the street corner. It's cool that there's a gallery." April would have liked the Gallery. Hell, maybe she would have even gotten paintings into the gallery. Then maybe they would have made money and gotten off smack. Gotten off drugs and moved out of Alphabet City.

He had been convinced that she could have been one of those fancy painters getting paid millions of dollars for a single stroke. But of course, that was all gone. All of those dreams were all shattered. He cleared his throat, realising the silence that had gone through the gallery. "You know, I mean...there's alot of people that don't pay any of us any mind because we're poor...but I think that's the reason why alot of us are so good. Because we don't have to worry about bills or any of that shit; we got all the time in the world to paint or write or whatever."

He paused and then motioned behind him. "This isn't one of these art gallery's that like...I'm expected to buy something, right? 'Cause, um...I'm a little low right now."

[JANE EYRE]

Jane listened to the man talk, nodding along with everything he said. The painting was exceptional, all the pieces were and they were all very sellable, thank goodness. It gave her reason to believe that the charity would be successful and that the students who made them would get something in return. It was a fantastic feeling being able to help others.

And when the man started talking about the poor, Jane almost knew what he talking about. She hadn't had any freedom to do as she liked when she was poor. Back when she had first moved to New York, she lived penny to penny, often times not having enough money to buy food. There was no freedom in that, just fear. Fear of not making rent, fear of not eating, fear of not having anything. Jane wasn't free to paint as she pleased because she couldn't afford it.

"This isn't one of these art gallery's that like...I'm expected to buy something, right? 'Cause, um...I'm a little low right now."

"No, of course not." Jane smiled at the man. "I don't believe that galleries are only for buying, I also think they are for enjoying art. Besides, having another person in here who has seen it is good for business; it's like advertising without going through the company."

[ROGER DAVIS]

No, of course not.

Well, that was a good thing, Roger thought silently. He would have wanted to buy a few paintings if he had the money, but he didn't. The last time he had actually bought a painting was the painting of an old black ship in the Loft almost three years ago. "I-I mean, I would if I could. 'Cause I'm all for supporting local art." Roger said, nodding lightly. When she spoke of advertising, Roger laughed slightly. "Oh, believe me, once people get word of this place, you'll have alot of people in here. I can't say how many of them would be able to pay to buy anything, but you'll sure as hell have alot of people looking."

She had a nice smile, and for a second, he watched her face before smiling. "You know, it's really cool that you're into showing all of this to anyone like you are. There's some dudes uptown that wouldn't let you in the same room without paying outrageous fees. I mean, art's not about making money. It's about doing what you love to you."