Philosophies on Art
Part sixteen of Foolish Games series.
"Oz."
"Hmm?" he answered in equally hushed murmur.
"Oz, come here."
He allowed himself to be led to the other side of the gallery.
"Look."
"Saw this one already."
Willow let out an exasperated sigh. "Look again!"
There was no one else in the gallery and the guard seemed to be ignoring them. ("Seemed" being the operative word.) Laughter drifted through the quiet -- because it was a largely empty -- exhibit. Oz recognized it as Dawn's. His uncanny sense of smell told him she and Xander were in gallery space to their north, while Buffy and Anya were somewhere further away and not necessarily together.
"Are you looking?"
He had not been, but he paid attention now. It seemed to be the same thing he remembered: A Romantic oil painting of a mythological scene. The woman/goddess/person was sprawled on the grass while cherub-like satyrs danced around her. There was another small cherub-thing peeking over her leg while she languished. Oz assumed she was supposed to Venus or some such person. It was all very lush and voluptuous -- very Romantic.
"I don't see anything, Will," he said, eyebrows drawn together in concentration. "Maybe if you tell me what I'm supposed to be looking at it'll stand out. Like those 3D pictures, but not."
Instead of pulling him closer to it, she pulled him away so that he got a more complete view of the rather large picture. "He's peeing on her," she hissed.
Oz whipped his head about. "What?"
Willow forcibly turned him back the other way. "See there?" She pointed for him. "Right there." She drew an arc with her forefinger and he followed it. "He's peeing on her!"
All the tension went out of Oz's face. "Oh. Oh! Hmm."
"Exactly hmm."
"Hmm indeed," a woman behind them said. She and her class of sixth-graders had been so quiet -- or rather, Willow and Oz had been so engrossed by the painting -- that neither had noticed the group come in. There were three students standing with her, while the rest milled about. Oz noticed he had lost the other Scoobies' scents in the melee of the crowd. "This exhibit is on loan from the MET in New York City. And yes," she said to Willow and Oz as much as to her students, "he is peeing on her."
The little girls ewed in perfect unison. Oz thought they had a nice harmony.
"It's supposed to represent her fertility."
They all -- the girls, Willow and Oz included -- ewed together, much louder and with even better syncronisity.
"Isn't it cool?"
The girls giggled. The teacher gathered her flock and they moved on.
"So," Willow began, hand under her chin, "you think Xander and Anya'd like to see it?"
"Willow, ewwwww."
Fin
