![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
hennessysTitle: Rose
Rating: G
Summary: Felix paints the Hennessy siblings.
Notes: This began as something quite different.
Felix has painted all of the Hennessy siblings before. Traditional portraits all, of course; he was commissioned by their parents after Jack caught him painting in college and announced it the next time he dragged Felix home. He's drawn them sitting and standing, grouped together and singly, serious and playful.
He's never painted them like this. The way he prefers.
Abstract but still recognizable. Distinct styles for each of them. He predicted all of that but he didn't anticipate this, the clear color distinctions between them, the clear throughlines connecting them.
Of all his paintings, these three are his favorites.
--
Miranda began in black and white, sharp angles and slashing brushstrokes. He worked from pictures of her he clipped from the paper, the newsprint putting new edges on her cheekbones and adding razors to her smile. In the painting she dips her head against her black hair, her eyes slanted, half-veiled by her eyelashes. Her expression is vicious.
But it's wrong. He knows it's wrong.
Soft rose blushes along her cheeks, now, and her mouth is a red blossom. Her eyes are still half-hidden but they're softer now, if not kind.
She's thorny, not poisonous. The painting is right now.
--
Charlotte was always pastels and impressionism, blues and greens and pinks. Of the three her portrait is the least realistic, but then of all her siblings Charlotte is the least real to him. He's met her only four or five times, and retained only a blurry impression of sweetness and warmth, comfort and compassion.
He dabs the same soft rose he used for Miranda along her mouth and curls it into a small, warm smile. Her face is like a peony blossom emerging from the thicket of her hair, bright and happy and shining.
She's beautiful. He remembers that much.
--
Jack's portrait looks like he threw his palette at the canvas. At least, it does at first.
And isn't that just like Jack? He burst into Felix's life like a hurricane, exploding color and confetti and chaos all across what had been a neatly ordered world. Felix was utterly overwhelmed at first, until he began to see the patterns.
It's the same with the painting. It begins as a mess, color everywhere, no rhyme or reason. Then you get closer and it begins to resolve into a face, Jack's mischievous grin outlined in soft rose.
It's perfect. It's his favorite.
--
He paints himself, too. Of course he does. The self-portrait is a staple of college art classes, and anyway he just likes it, interpreting himself different ways. This time he paints in browns and grays. Not because he feels drab next to the siblings, though he does a bit. More because he feels... camouflaged, quiet and hidden. Safe.
He feels valued, also, so he adds a delicate tracery of shining gold, edging his features. A dab of Miranda's red, of Charlotte's green, of Jack's multicolored glory, and soft rose for his mouth.
He thinks it might be his best self-portrait yet.
Rating: G
Summary: Felix paints the Hennessy siblings.
Notes: This began as something quite different.
Felix has painted all of the Hennessy siblings before. Traditional portraits all, of course; he was commissioned by their parents after Jack caught him painting in college and announced it the next time he dragged Felix home. He's drawn them sitting and standing, grouped together and singly, serious and playful.
He's never painted them like this. The way he prefers.
Abstract but still recognizable. Distinct styles for each of them. He predicted all of that but he didn't anticipate this, the clear color distinctions between them, the clear throughlines connecting them.
Of all his paintings, these three are his favorites.
--
Miranda began in black and white, sharp angles and slashing brushstrokes. He worked from pictures of her he clipped from the paper, the newsprint putting new edges on her cheekbones and adding razors to her smile. In the painting she dips her head against her black hair, her eyes slanted, half-veiled by her eyelashes. Her expression is vicious.
But it's wrong. He knows it's wrong.
Soft rose blushes along her cheeks, now, and her mouth is a red blossom. Her eyes are still half-hidden but they're softer now, if not kind.
She's thorny, not poisonous. The painting is right now.
--
Charlotte was always pastels and impressionism, blues and greens and pinks. Of the three her portrait is the least realistic, but then of all her siblings Charlotte is the least real to him. He's met her only four or five times, and retained only a blurry impression of sweetness and warmth, comfort and compassion.
He dabs the same soft rose he used for Miranda along her mouth and curls it into a small, warm smile. Her face is like a peony blossom emerging from the thicket of her hair, bright and happy and shining.
She's beautiful. He remembers that much.
--
Jack's portrait looks like he threw his palette at the canvas. At least, it does at first.
And isn't that just like Jack? He burst into Felix's life like a hurricane, exploding color and confetti and chaos all across what had been a neatly ordered world. Felix was utterly overwhelmed at first, until he began to see the patterns.
It's the same with the painting. It begins as a mess, color everywhere, no rhyme or reason. Then you get closer and it begins to resolve into a face, Jack's mischievous grin outlined in soft rose.
It's perfect. It's his favorite.
--
He paints himself, too. Of course he does. The self-portrait is a staple of college art classes, and anyway he just likes it, interpreting himself different ways. This time he paints in browns and grays. Not because he feels drab next to the siblings, though he does a bit. More because he feels... camouflaged, quiet and hidden. Safe.
He feels valued, also, so he adds a delicate tracery of shining gold, edging his features. A dab of Miranda's red, of Charlotte's green, of Jack's multicolored glory, and soft rose for his mouth.
He thinks it might be his best self-portrait yet.
