Higher & Lower Arts
Posted on 07 Dec 2022 @ 2:48pm by Brek - Timeless Treasures Art Gallery
Mission:
M3 - Into the Deep
Location: Habitat Ring - Brek’s Quarters
Timeline: MD06 - 1800HRS
1278 words - 2.6 OF Standard Post Measure
Brek paid just enough attention to the design of his quarters to notice that they exemplified Starfleet: comfortable and efficient, but they also displayed a level of tediousness that could only be achieved by Terrans. There was a total lack of imagination and spirit within these blue/grey walls. He was in a cage, really, and he sighed heavily at the thought of spending some of his precious time to make this place bearable.
For now though, his eyes and thoughts were focused on a Padd. Following his encounter with Romulan Senator Thitur, it had become urgent to locate a painting titled ‘The Fall of Freljord’. A great artwork, no doubt about it, but it belonged to the classics, and the more he searched for it, the more it looked like this painting had been destroyed. In order to remedy this tragedy, he contacted Bajeem, a Romulan artist, and he asked him to work on a new project: ‘The Fall of Freljord - A Modern Outlook’.
This way, when it was time for him to deliver the artwork to the conceited Senator, he would not suffer an epic fail, only a mild one. For he would have, in his hands, a Romulan painting called ‘‘The Fall of Freljord (version 2)’.
Clever.
There was a large screen in the living room. He switched it on and he selected the ‘Inconvenient Truth’ network, a popular Ferengi news channel. He figured that, with the help of a glass of wine to fog his brain a little, it would be fun to spend an hour or so listening to the hurried and corrupted affairs of the Ferengi Alliance.
Sadly, just at this moment, there was a loud knock at his door. He went to see who it was, and found, in front of him, a Terran woman, with yellow hair and an air of self importance that almost matched that of Senator Thitur. This was emphasized by the black suit she was wearing. It was now 18.30, beyond office hours then, and Brek chose to revert to complete Ferentitude.
“What can you do for me?” He asked, mimicking the woman’s insistent stare.
“I... “ The female blinked, but it didn’t make her look alluring at all. She was, he guessed, the type of woman so used to giving unpleasant orders that she couldn’t look friendly anymore. “Didn’t know you were from... Well not from Earth. They said that our new neighbor was running an art gallery.”
“Who’s they?”
“The informal tidings regarding the Habitat Ring. Yes, I know, it doesn’t sound too bright... The fact is, I thought I’d...” She stepped sideways, revealing a teenage boy who had been hiding behind her, “introduce you to my son, Kyrill. He is a prodigy, who paints like a master.”
Brek observed the boy, who was everything that his mother was not: slim, insecure, with acne all over his face. Seeing how uncomfortable the poor sprog was, Brek relaxed.
The woman pushed the kid forward. “Go on, show your work to Mr Brek. Certain kids these days are so shy. It’s embarrassing.”
The teen produced a Padd, from which he displayed a selection of paintings, rendered in holoform, that floated, one after the other, in the middle of the corridor.
“My work’s grimdark,” Kyrill mumbled. “There’s no way you’re going to like it.”
“Nonsense,” the mother corrected, her voice strident. “What my son paints is visionary. A warning to all civilizations.”
Brek hummed as he reviewed the artwork. The boy was right. His artwork was about realistic but ghastly views of post-apocalyptic cities, with striking gory details here and there. Angry graffiti painted in red blood (?), severed heads on pikes, rats dining on human guts. There was no way he would exhibit those gruesome canvases among his refined Romulan paintings, even if the mother decided to pay him good latinum for the privilege. Also, how could one be so young and so dark?
“Yes, well... my gallery is mostly about Romulan art,” Brek remarked. “So, as... hmm... spellbinding as Kyrill’s art is, it simply won’t fit. Timeless Treasures is all about a solemn respect to the past and a bright outlook to the future. I reckon Kyrill’s work would fare better in holographic art, games and novels. Those are always in great demand.”
“The lower arts,” the mother said, her voice full of reproach.
“There is, in my opinion, no lower arts, Mrs...?”
“Novikov. If you cannot tell the difference between the higher and the lower arts, Mr Brek, then the situation is hopeless.”
Having imparted her wisdom, the Terran woman walked away, pushing her offspring in front of her. Brek was quite happy to let the two aliens go, but, as often was the case, his inner voice disagreed. It felt sorry for the young hewmon; felt sure too that the dragon that passed for a lady would give her son a long telling off as soon as they reached their quarters.
And so, instead of keeping quiet, uninvolved and blissfully untroubled, he spoke up. “Mrs Novikov, wait! I’ve got an idea. Since you value the higher art so much, why not give young Kyrill the opportunity to enjoy a working experience in my gallery? It would give him a first insight into the art trade.”
She turned round, ever so slowly, and stared at him. “A working experience, you say?”
Was she interested, or shocked by the offer? Brek couldn’t tell. The sprog on the other hand looked hopeful. Anything was probably better than a tête-à-tête with Mrs Novikov. He felt the same whenever his granny (his moogie being very much absent - an incredible invisible woman, that one...) decided to have a word with him.
“He wouldn’t be paid, of course,” Brek promptly added to be on the safe side. (Who, in their right mind, paid mere teens?). “On the other hand, he would gain knowledge on how to buy and sell art. He would also be in a position to meet great artists.”
Mrs Novikov glanced at her son, who in turn shrugged. He wasn’t bothered, he seemed to say. He was never ever bothered about anything. “You see my son, toiling in a gallery run by a Ferengi?”
“Maybe we should ask young Kyrill what he thinks?” Brek offered.
The teen cleared his throat and mumbled something that sounded like a coded message, for it was indecipherable. “I said,” he repeated a few seconds later, “why not?”
"Why not." Mrs Novikov echoed. "This is all I ever get from him."
"He is a crowd-pleaser," Brek added before she could complain some more. "Now, I hate to brag, but Kyrill could do worse than be my apprentice. I have a talent with words. I could teach him that too."
"Oh, I have no doubt there are many things you can teach Mr Brek." She smiled, but in a glacial way. "But if you don't mind, not to my son."
"Well, that's your loss, and his, too." Brek countered, nonplussed. "I bid the two of you a nice evening, I must return to my life, rich as it is in knowledge and artistic contacts."
With that he went back to his quarters. Just as he was closing the door, the excited voice of the newsreader on the screen announced that the Alliance would continue to invest in the gamma quadrant, and that all mining rights would go to a company called ‘Stellar Mining’. This caught his attention, and when minutes later there was another call at his door, he didn’t answer.
