Anti-art

"England?"

"That's where my blog's leading me."

Dona stepped into her apartment, situated at the top floor of the complex holding her phone. The double-volume windows had an uninterrupted view of the mountains. The staircase leading to the bedroom suite accompanied by international designs rose above a sunken lounging area.

"Wow really?" Harry continued," Because I was on the phone with my mom not so long ago, and she wants us to visit."

"What a coincidence". 

Dona was about to go up the stairs until she felt something knock her shoulder. It was a lamp out of place, she didn't think anything of it and moved it back to the wall. 

Not paying attention to the changed decor around her, she continued to reply to Harry. "We'll chat more when you're home."

"Ok, no problem, love you."

"Love you."

Upstairs, she went into her room and placed her phone on the pedestal. Her studio was in the adjacent room, where she would return to her canvas and finish her charcoal portrait. It was a spacious room that held life-sized sculptures and canvas's that spanned the wall. There was enough space to use the floor as a canvas; white sheeting spread the tiles, and the windows shone onto the wood sculptures placed on the shelves.

Near the door there were paintbrushes in a tube, she took two and placed them in her hair. She retrieved her sketchpad in one of the drawers next to her easel and scanned through it. There were sketches of classic artworks that she re-invented. There was a small desk near the window, and she jumped into her swivel chair and started to sketch.

She started with the lining, sketching the shape and direction of the head. She shaded the parts of the face, that which she wouldn't forget most was its mouth. She remembered how it twisted into an agonizing screech that left it frozen like a moment in time. It reminded her of The Scream, by Edvard Munch-one of her favourite artists. A recollection of a conversation she had with her art teacher re-surfaced, it was the day they started learning about emotive artists.

"Sorry ma'am but does Vincent Van Gogh fall under the same category as Edvard Munch?"

"Just like Van Gogh, Edvard was not apart of any art movement although they did inspire many artists. They are known as emotive artists."

"What makes them emotive artists?".

"They carry their emotions in their artworks, through their brush strokes and use of colour."

Then Mrs Reed hinted at something that might be in the next test; then the conversation took a slant. "Vincent is a colourist like Paul Gauguin"," wink-wink.

Dona looked at her Scream painting and clenched her eyes to see the brushstrokes. She saw how the red didn't clash with the orange but they harmoniously blended. Then her eyes were fixed on the focal point-the figure.

"And then a sudden wave of terror fell over him, and the sky turned blood-red." She turned back to her sketch.

Red, a harsh kind of red: she thought. The artwork at the museum wasn't fully covered because she had seen the figure in the foreground. It was a hallowing figure that had a strange sense to it, a gripping one that played at her interest. What made her tense was its hollow eyes, she flinched at the thought. "An anonymous", she mouthed. She googled a few ideas of what might bring about the history of the artwork but to no avail.

Her last attempt was typing Redman painting. She skimmed through a few impressionistic and graphic art but to her surprise; she found it. She read the small blurb, and it said that the artist is 'yet to be identified'.She read further and was astounded by the title, 'A paranormal artwork'.