MYSTERIOUS GRAFFITI - CHAPTER THREE
We're not the only people staring at the wall, as practically everyone who passes by the Aquarium stops to look at what I can only describe as a masterpiece. Its precision and life-like quality literally took my breath away when I first spotted it from a distance, and as I move closer, I'm frankly astonished at the skill of the artist or artists who've transformed a large section of the black-brick edifice into a stunning work of art.
Slightly to the right-hand side of the center-point of the Aquarium's long façade, taking up about an eighth of the length of the impressive two-storey building, is a plain, un-windowed section of wall which the artist had used as his or her canvas. The whole area, reaching up as far as the bottom edge of the adjacent windows, has been transformed into a stunning multi-colored seascape with several different types of tropical fish, lazily swimming turtles and translucent jellyfish, that seem to be idly drifting through a reef of colorful corals and gently wafting plants. Painted above the reef in an area of clear water is the focal point of the image, which is a menacing, muscular shark in a desperate tussle with a scuba-diver, and I'm staggered at just how strikingly life-like these figures are.
After taking in the whole work from a distance, I cross the busy sidewalk and follow Jay onto the pier as I'm anxious to take a closer look at the quality of the brushwork. I weave my way through the crowd gathered on the gray wooden boardwalk so I can stand with an unimpeded view in front of the mural and take in the full, astonishing effect, and I can't stop my eyes darting from one side of the painting to the other as there's so much beauty to absorb. On the left side of the panel is a shoal of dainty Angel fish, drawn so exquisitely their delicate and elegantly transparent fins twist and curl as they gently brush against the seaweed. On the right side, the mottled shells of a pair of turtles swimming above the reef are so polished, they reflect the sunlight streaming down from the surface. On the sea-bed, the vibrant corals have been skilfully drawn with incredibly precise, razor-sharp edges. These are populated by starfish and other strangely shaped sea creatures which I recognise from nature programs. All the animals are so lifelike it seems as though they're physically attached to the building, so if you wanted to, you could lift them away from the brickwork and hold them in your hands.
"How the hell did this happen so quickly," Jay mutters like he's questioning himself. I see him pull his cell phone from his pocket to take his own photographs then he adds, almost like an apology, "I was down here on Friday night and I'll swear there wasn't a lick of paint on the building then. This is insane."
"There was nothing here on Saturday afternoon either," I reply and I'm equally confused. "I'm sure I would've spotted something like this straight away," I add.
I notice Jay has turned his attention to the crowd gathered behind us and it seems to me as though he's searching for someone, which makes me slightly suspicious that he knows more about this than he's letting on.
"Have you any clue who's responsible for this?" I ask.
"I've got a vague idea as I've seen this person's work before, but this is his best one yet."
I'm instantly fuming.
"So when you said, 'Not another one', can I take it that you've seen street art like this before? In which case, why did you imply that all the graffiti and street art you'd seen so far in Seattle was worthless?"
"Look, I'll explain more when we get back to the office. You stay here and take your photos and do whatever you have to do while I go in and speak to the staff. I presume this is something you'll want to preserve if possible."
"What do you mean 'if possible?' Are you nuts?" I do the air-quotes thing as I'm surprised he's even suggesting getting rid of it.
"Bella, the Aquarium staff might ask for it to be removed and unfortunately we've got no choice but to listen to what they've got to say. They may want to keep it of course, but I'm just warning you if they don't, convincing them might not be as simple as you think."
I know my mouth has dropped open but I don't say anything as I'm new to this game and I don't know what the protocol is with this sort of situation, but I'll be damned if I'm going to allow this to be blasted out of existence. I'll definitely be protesting to the Mayor if there are any objections from the Aquarium management.
Jay disappears into the building while I take about fifty photographs - some from a distance and some close-up. I want to be able take my time examining every detail of this stunning artwork when I get back to the office so I take a picture of every inch of the mural within reach.
The shark and the scuba diver fighting for supremacy are mind-blowingly good but I'd need a ladder to be able to get to the top of the mural so I have to make do with long-shots and my zoom lens. The struggling diver is clinging to the shark and his or her air tube is floating freely, allowing bubbles of oxygen to escape and float up to the surface. The diver's teeth are biting into the shark's dorsal fin and consequently the contorting shark is thrashing wildly to shake the diver off its back. How the artist has managed to convey such movement in a 2D image is absolutely incredible.
I'm trying to work out which type of paint the artist has used when Jay returns with two members of the Aquarium staff. I can see both of them are wearing identification badges on their clothing and as they're walking towards me I can hear them arguing. It's immediately obvious the woman wants to keep the mural but the man doesn't. As they get closer I'm hoping and praying the woman has seniority or Jay's depressing prediction will probably be justified.
Jay wanders over to me while I'm putting my camera back in my purse and shrugs his shoulders.
"They can't seem to make up their minds, Bella."
"This is madness," I scoff. "This isn't graffiti - this is art, and it's stunning, and the people walking by seem to like it. Why the hell did they let it be painted in the first place if they didn't want it? Someone must have worked over the weekend to create this as there's no way it's been sneakily done overnight. This must have taken hours and in daylight."
"Why don't you ask them that question then?" Jay suggests but I've a feeling from the look he's giving me he already knows the answer that's coming.
"I will," I respond forcefully and march over to where these two 'managers' are going at it hammer and tongs. Jay introduces me to them as 'Bella Swan, Urban Arts Consultant', and the man sneers at me as if I was a piece of shit on his shoe.
"What's the problem?" I ask somewhat aggressively to the middle-aged, gray-suited Philistine who I'm sure I'm going to fall out with. His badge informs me his name is Barry Jenkins, which is followed by the words 'General Manager – Happy to Help', which regretfully doesn't instil me with any level of confidence he will be at all helpful as he's scowling at me and then at the wall.
"This is the problem," he hisses while vigorously wagging his finger at the mural. "I want it removed immediately otherwise it'll send out a signal to every other vandal in the city that they can scrawl whatever they want on other parts of the building. If you don't remove it, I will."
"A vandal hasn't done this, Barry," the young woman pleads. Her name is Madeline and she has the job title, 'Customer Relations Manager'. She speaks in a calm and gentle tone and I instantly feel sorry for her as she has a resigned look on her face, as if she's well used to talking to a brick wall all day; the brick wall in this case being Mr Barry Jenkins.
"It's beautiful, Barry; at least let's keep it for a few weeks," she continues. "It might draw visitors in, which can only be a good thing."
"No, absolutely no no no! This is my last word on the matter," Barry hisses then stomps over to Jay who's keeping his distance. "I want this removed as a priority, do you hear?"
"Might take a few weeks," Jay responds and I can tell he's trying valiantly to keep a straight face and look business-like, but Barry is slowly turning purple before our eyes, which in any other situation would be comical. "I'll put you on the list, Mr Jenkins, but it's not really graffiti is it? There's no profanity in the painting or any sort of personal attack on our local politicians, so it won't be near the top."
"Is that so?" Barry responds angrily. "In that case I'm getting on to the Mayor. I'm going back to my office right now and calling him direct, and I'll keep kicking his ass until it's removed."
With that he storms back to the building leaving me with Madeline who sighs either with despair or relief.
"I'm sorry about him," she says quietly. "He's proud of this building and its history and I can see his point to a certain extent, but this is too beautiful to destroy."
"Why didn't he stop it being painted then," I ask. "It must've taken someone a couple of days at least."
Madeline shakes her head and stares up at the mural and I know she's drinking in every detail. I guess she's probably preserving it to memory before its obliterated forever.
"I was on duty yesterday afternoon and locked the building at just gone six in the evening. There was definitely nothing there then. One of the tank divers saw it when he came in this morning at seven but didn't say anything to anyone. He told me he presumed it had been authorised. I saw it when I got in to work just before nine. Barry had a morning meeting offsite and didn't get here until about one. He was on the phone to your boss straight away."
"So it was painted in a maximum of what … thirteen hours? That's impossible. It gets dark about eight and doesn't get really light until about six. Didn't anyone see it happening?"
"Not as far as we know. This area is heaving with people until about midnight, even on a Sunday, so this would narrow the time available down to about six or seven hours max if whoever did this didn't want to be seen."
"That doesn't make sense," I reply and motion for her to walk over to the wall with me. I examine the brush strokes again looking for any evidence the artist used stencils and spray paint to speed up the process, but anybody could see the technique was too fine and he or she must have used brushes, at least for the lower sections. I'd guess he used sprays for the area of water above the corals but everything else was definitely hand painted.
As we're talking, a constantly moving audience of people are gathering behind us to take a look at the mural, and both Madeline and I can tell by their verbal reactions that, without exception, they are all appreciative of the artwork. I turn and face the crowd to take in the wonder of their expressions then I glance around the general area to see whether I can spot any security cameras pointing in this direction but draw a blank. I notice there's street lighting near to the building so there was definitely some artificial light for the artist to work with, but I can't imagine it would've been anywhere near bright enough for this type of intricate finish.
As I keep looking around for anyone or anything which would give me a clue as to how this was done, my gaze falls on a mysterious-looking guy who is standing some way away in the shadow of the viaduct. He's tall, very slim and dressed from head to toe in dark, faded gym clothing hanging loosely over his frame. Even though the air temperature is probably touching eighty by now, he's wearing an over-sized, un-zipped sweatshirt with the hood covering most of his forehead. His shoulders are broad but hunched forward and his hands are concealed in the pockets of his sweats as though he's trying to keep them warm. His head is tipped downwards hiding most of his face, so the only features I can clearly make out are his dark, piercing eyes, which at this moment are blazing at me from under his hood. I catch my breath as his mesmerizing stare is making me feel like I'm being interrogated by an ancient monk and instantly I feel uncomfortable.
He locks me in his gaze for at least five or maybe six seconds and then I probably blink, because when I look back to where he was standing a second ago there's now an empty space. He's disappeared like a puff of smoke, absorbed into the crowds of tourists and other folk pouring off one of the ferries. I wildly search the area trying to spot him again but my efforts are in vain.
"What's up?" Jay asks as he walks towards me.
I'm standing on my tip toes when he asks the question, as if two inches of extra height would help me spot the mysterious onlooker.
"I think I may have just seen the culprit. A tall guy was watching me from over there. He disappeared as soon as I spotted him."
"Black hoodie?"
"Um yeah," I reply and I'm starting to realise Jay definitely knows who's responsible for the mural. This annoys me more than slightly as I thought we'd be a team from day one, so I front him up for keeping this guy's work and identity from me as this example of street art is exactly the reason I've been appointed by the Mayor.
"Do you know who's done this and you've been stringing me along all this time?" I ask accusingly. I can tell he's picked up I'm pissed as he makes an effort to sound apologetic when he replies.
"I've seen the hoodie guy twice before but I honestly don't know who he is, Bella. He was there when I turned up at one of his efforts a couple of weeks ago, then again when I was at another which I think could be his. As soon as I approach him or call out to him he disappears again. It's almost like he wants me to see him but he doesn't want to converse with me. I suppose he's wary of being arrested which I totally get. Look, I didn't get a chance to tell you about him this morning. I was planning to show you some of his murals when we got back this afternoon, but I thought you'd enjoy being out in the city first."
I feel a bit guilty then for going off at him without knowing the facts first. Jay had no idea we'd see this today so I would've been none the wiser if this one hadn't appeared. I knew I had to apologise.
"I'm sorry, Jay. I shouldn't have snapped at you. I'm a bit hot and bothered to be honest. It figures he would run away I suppose, but even you wouldn't want him arrested, would you?"
"Probably not. If he's the artist who did this then he's definitely talented, even I would admit that, but he should be doing this on canvas and for money; not vandalising somebody else's property."
"Maybe he is already and he's doing this for a laugh? Have you ever seen his face?"
"Not close up, but I guess he must be quite young as he's very fit. I tried to chase after him both times but I couldn't catch him. As soon as I lose sight of him it's like he vanishes off the face of the earth."
"Do you think he's just doing it for the reaction? In other words, does he just like pissing you guys off?"
"I doubt it. If he wanted to piss us off, he'd just scrawl something offensive on a wall; not go into such great detail with his artwork."
I think about that statement as I turn around and look at the mural again. Madeline has returned to the building by now and I hope she's trying to talk some sense into Barry but I don't hold out much hope.
"I don't get it," I muse. "Why take all this trouble creating something so beautiful and risk getting arrested, knowing it will eventually be destroyed by our guys. It doesn't make sense."
I'm looking for clues in the subject of the painting but the sun has moved around the building and is now shining directly in my eyes. My head is still pounding relentlessly and I just want to get out of the sunlight and preferably into a cool, darkened room somewhere. I'm hoping Kirsty or someone in the office has some pills to take the pain away or I won't get through the rest of the day.
"Can we go back to the office now, Jay? I almost beg. "I've got the mother of all headaches."
"Sure," Jay answers and he sounds genuinely sympathetic. "Give me your keys; I'll drive."
I throw the keys at him and within fifteen minutes we're back inside the air-conditioned pleasure dome. Kirsty produces some Tylenol from her drawer with a flourish which thankfully takes the edge off my headache. After taking the pills with one of her herbal teas, which she insists I drink in front of her, I start to feel almost human again.
"Come and look at these," Jay says when I wander back to the office after being 'Kirsty'd'.
"What are they?" I ask as Jay flicks through a file of stored photographs on his computer.
"Some of these are Hoodie Guy's previous works. There's a couple from a while ago that could possibly have been his but they've already been removed, but I keep photos of every call out, good or bad. They're evidence for future court cases if we catch any of the half-wits doing this; not that I'm implying Hoodie Guy's a half-wit of course. Most of these pictures were taken by the public and emailed to Jim along with their complaint, but some are what I've taken."
I walk closer to the screen as Jay flicks through page after page of images. A small fraction of them are Hoodie Guy's, and it's obvious which ones are his as it's like comparing a Botticelli to the sort-of third-grade masterpieces that proud moms keep for years for the sole reason of causing acute embarrassment to their teenage sons and daughters when they produce them in front of their first boy or girlfriend.
I'm now even more intrigued by Hoodie Guy and would really like to visit the sites that remain intact, even though I doubt whether they would give me any clues as to who this guy is. Jay halts on one that depicts the Seahawk football team in action and points to it.
"See this one. It's near to CenturyLink Field and is so good the owners of the Seahawks want to commission the guy who drew it to paint other murals inside the stadium."
"Wow!" I respond, but looking at the quality of the painting it's obvious why, as what is on the screen is outstanding.
"Has anybody asked us to remove any of his art?" I ask.
"Nope, not yet," he replied but then added, "Well actually that's not exactly true. He's allegedly pissed off the Military and there's one near a school that's not very nice, but apart from those, no."
I was still wondering why Jay hadn't mentioned this guy while we were driving around Seattle when Jim sticks his head around the door. He's grinning, so something's obviously amused him.
"I've just had a call from the Mayor. His PA's just got an ear-bashing from Barry Jenkins at the Aquarium. What's the story there?"
Jay gives him a brief outline of what happened while I find some of the better pictures on my camera to show him. Jim looks impressed.
"I wouldn't class that as graffiti in a million years," he says directing his comment at me. "Can you ping these over on an email, Bella. I'll have a word with 'He-who-must-be-obeyed'. Maybe he can placate Belligerent Barry before he does something stupid."
"I hope so," I respond. "It really should be preserved, even just for the summer months."
"I'll see what I can do," Jim responds kindly. "I'll tell him you've said it has artistic merit, okay?"
"Thanks," I reply and for some reason I feel totally elated.
It's not as if I've uncovered a hidden treasure painted by Van Gogh or Cezanne; it's just contemporary street art, so I wonder why I'm feeling so protective towards it. And then I recall Hoodie Guy's eyes and how they locked with mine and held me just for those few brief seconds, and I'm positive, or at least I'd like to believe, that he was trying to connect with me for some reason. Was he hoping that I'd appreciate and preserve his work? Was he just vainly watching my reaction to his undoubted skill, or was he trying to tell me something?
I recall wandering around galleries in Amsterdam, Paris, Vienna and other great cities, marvelling with the other visitors the skill of long-dead artists who would never know how much their works were appreciated, revered and loved by the generations of art-lovers who viewed them long after they'd departed this life. It made me want to believe in ghosts, so I could imagine the spirits of these geniuses mingling with the museum visitors; eavesdropping on their conversations and relishing the love and praise being heaped on their masterpieces.
Twentieth-century artists like Picasso and Dali shared their passion on film many times and were lucky enough during their lifetimes to be confident they would be immortalised and remembered long after their deaths. But who wouldn't have wanted to listen to the words of artists such as Michelangelo, Da Vinci or Caravaggio, talking about who inspired them, what drove them, how they lived and how they worked. Their stories disappeared when they passed on, leaving behind only rumours of what was in their hearts when they created their masterpieces; in other words only snippets of information survived for the art detectives to analyse in years to come. This is what fascinated me about art, which was why I wanted to know more about this particular artist and why he chose his subjects.
I stroll back to my desk and gaze down at the sprawling city hundreds of feet below me. He's out there somewhere and I wonder whether he's thinking about my reaction to his painting, as he surely watched me taking close-ups of his work. When he stared at me there was a hint of something in the way his eyes widened when they locked with mine, but it wasn't shock or surprise that I'd spotted him, there was something else in his expression that I couldn't put my finger on.
I'm startled when my desk phone rings which brings a halt to my musings. I've never answered a work call before and frantically try to decide what to say before lifting the receiver. Do I introduce myself as 'Bella Swan, Urban Arts Consultant,' or just 'Bella Swan,' or even 'Bella Swan, Graffiti Queen?' In the end I just mumble "Bella's phone."
A very business-like voice barks down the phone at me and I automatically sit up straight as if she can see me, which is totally irrational.
"Hello Ms Swan, this is Jan, the Mayor's PA. I'm just calling to let you know that the Mayor will drive by the Aquarium this evening on his way to the ferry and make his own assessment based on your recommendation to preserve the street art there. I'll get back to you tomorrow with the Mayor's decision."
"Err….thank you for letting me know," I stammer. "I hope the Mayor agrees with me that ..."
"I'll be in touch," Jan interrupts sharply and disconnects without saying goodbye.
Jay's grinning at me from across the room. He could hear the brief conversation as Jan was speaking very loudly.
"Let's hope the mural's still there when the Mayor turns up tonight. You never know, Belligerent Barry might be out there right now with a ladder and a tin of gloss."
"I fu… I friggin' hope not," I splutter angrily. "I'll have him arrested for vandalism if he does that. Hold on a sec … Is the Aquarium privately owned?"
"Sort of. The City used to own it until the Seattle Aquarium Society took it over as a non-profit organisation a few years ago. It still receives a grant from the Parks Department so the Mayor does have a bit of clout if he wants to keep the mural, which is probably a good thing."
I relax slightly when I hear that, but Jay suggesting Barry might take matters into his own hands overnight has unsettled me. I just hope he isn't that short-sighted and the Mayor will be able to see the mural in all its glory.
I spend the rest of the afternoon on the computer downloading my photographs then typing up a detailed report on what I'd seen with my own eyes today plus what I'd viewed on Jay's screen, which to be honest is basically ninety-nine percent crap and one percent sublime. At five-thirty I notice Jay is pulling his jacket on and my other colleagues are making their way towards the elevators, so I'm relieved this department doesn't have an 'unpaid-overtime-to-suck-up-to-the-boss' ethic. Kirsty sticks her head around the door and already has a small tartan backpack slung over her shoulder.
"Are you up for a drink after work?" she offers.
I'm tempted to say yes, but my head is still muzzy so I duck out.
"Can I take a rain-check on that," I sort of whine. "My head is still pounding; I wouldn't be good company."
"Okie Dokie" she replies cheerfully. "Have an early night and see you tomorrow."
I grab my jacket and purse and join the others outside the elevators. I'm feeling really tired by now and the thought of an early night is very appealing. I've some shopping to do and a phone call to make, but hopefully I'll be in bed by ten. This is the first time I've ever lived on my own so being in control of the TV remote and consequently the noise level in my apartment is a welcome novelty. I'm hoping I'll be able to sleep without earplugs from now on.
When I'm out on the sidewalk I feel an enormous sense of relief that my first day in Isengard hasn't been as bad as anticipated; in fact I've really quite enjoyed myself. What I would've felt like if I hadn't seen Hoodie Guy and the mural is debatable as everything else I saw was artistically worthless. At least now I can get up every day hoping to see another one of Hoodie Guy's masterpieces, and this alone will be worth having to assess all the other dross in the meantime.
My tiny three-roomed studio apartment is in walking distance of 5th Avenue which is a bonus. I'm not tempted to use (deep breath because I still can't believe it), 'my' car as there's only time-restricted parking on my street or I would guess very expensive overnighters. Anyway, I need the exercise or I'll end up with an enormous tush if I don't make myself walk every day and I can't afford to join a gym. It took me twenty-five minutes to get from my apartment to work this morning, but I wasn't exactly hurrying towards somewhere I didn't want to be. I reckon I could do the journey in twenty minutes door-to-door with a bit of practice and possibly less in a few weeks' time after I'd learned where the best places to cross the roads are.
When I get within sight of my apartment building I dive into my local old-fashioned supermarket to pick up some 'essentials', plus a processed goat's cheese and mushroom pizza and some DC's. I've got a supply of Tylenol in one of my unpacked bags so I'll pop a few of those before bed and hopefully remember to check my alarm is still set for seven as I'd probably sleep through until nine without it.
The friendly Asian check-out girl packs my shopping for me in two of their eco-friendly brown paper bags and I stagger towards the exit trying to hang on to my purchases plus my jacket and purse. Unfortunately the door is not automatic, so while I'm juggling to free one of my hands so I can grab the handle, while wishing they supplied eco-unfriendly plastic bags which are much easier to carry and leave your hands free to open heavy glass doors, I feel someone come up behind me.
"Let me get that for you," a rich, soft and musical voice says in my ear.
"Thank you," I reply gratefully as a man's hand appears in front of me and grabs hold of the handle and tugs the door open.
I step outside onto the sidewalk and turn to see who my knight in shining armour is to thank him again, but he's slipped out after me and is already running at full pelt down the hill towards the crossing. After my eyes connect to my brain and I make sense of what I'm seeing, I can't help but gasp.
The man is broad-shouldered, very slim and wearing faded black clothing, including an over-sized long-sleeved hoodie. As he runs away in long, loping strides, his hood momentarily slides back and I catch sight of his shoulder length hair, which is a deep, rich brown. Almost immediately he grabs his hood and pulls it over his head again and carries on running.
I'm rooted to the spot as I know without doubt that it's 'him'; the Hoodie Guy, and I also know without question that there's no way on earth him being in the same store as me is a coincidence.
I should be shaking in my shoes as it's plainly obvious he's followed me all the way from the office then into the store. He definitely didn't buy anything either as I would've noticed him at the checkout. So why is it that I'm not the slightest bit frightened that he's followed me, or concerned he knows where I work, or worse, that he's effectively 'stalking' me?
I watch him as he waits at the crossing then he runs to the next junction where he turns left at the corner and disappears from view. For at least thirty seconds it's as if I've been paralysed. I'm still clutching my two bags of shopping to my chest like a protective cushion and my arms are starting to ache, but eventually my brain starts to function again and after taking a few deep breaths I turn in the direction of my apartment and start walking slowly up the hill.
As I open the outside door of my block and close it behind me, I've already promised myself that as soon as I get in the office tomorrow morning, my number-one priority will be to find out who Hoodie Guy is and learn everything there is to know about him, and I won't stop, or rest, or give up, until I understand what's making this guy tick.
Seattle is becoming more interesting by the minute and I just can't wait to get back to work tomorrow.
I bet she can't!
So why is he following her, and why has our mysterious artist drawn a seascape on the Aquarium? Seems a bit random.
This guy's obviously very talented, can paint in the dark and very quickly, and is possibly trying to communicate with Bella. Interesting! Next chapter you'll get an idea why she's in Seattle and not flitting from one European art gallery to another.
Thanks again for all your reviews and guesses on where this is going. I'm loving them all!
Joan x
