Masterpiece

"Keep still Karen. I`m doing your mouth."

"What`s that on your paintbrush? It looks like a blue."

"It is. Prussian blue."

"On my mouth!"

"Yes. Abstract."

"With blue lips?

"Sorry. That`s how I see you - call it a kid sisters view."

"Thanks a lot!" She is nineteen and I am just twenty one. I love her. I
do really.
And I have looked after her since I was six, when our mother died. Of
course Dad had
some say, but he was and is a very busy man.

"Keep still then. I have to finish to-night."

I sneezed.

"Lucky it is in Acrylics, they dry so quickly. I`ve got to get this
into the Town
Hall to-night.

"Oh," I muttered, but she didn`t hear me. I had been sitting for this
"portrait" for
three weeks and she hadn`t told me what it was for. Nor had I seen
it!

She had been in my flat for six months, painting and sleeping in a room
nine feet by
six and trying to convince dealers and competition judges that she was
a promising
new artist.

During three days a week she served behind the till in a supermarket. I
usually did
what she said and I think that she had forgotten the meaning of "thank
you." My own
job, that of a Computer Operator didn`t seem to count for much.

I asked, " What`s with the Town Hall then? Has the Mayor seen me in my
office and
wants to hang me in his parlour?"

Of course she didn`t find this funny. "It`s a competition, stupid! It
is said to
carry a good deal of weight. Several well known artists have started
there in the
past. O.K. Relax."

I slumped a little. Kate is inclined to forget about rest periods when
she is in
the throes.

"This is the last time I am sitting for you," I promised,
hopefully.

"Huh," muttered Kate, washing her brush. "That`s it finished. . Er - I
say - er -
would you mind ."

"Probably." This was my usual answer. I would probably do it, whatever
it was. As I
said, I loved Kate and would do anything for her. I think that she knew
this. I
would also like to see her make the grade.

"Well, you see I would like to go to a lecture on Roger Bacon tonight,
and the last
evening for handing them in is ."

"All right. Just tell me the details. Can I get down now?"

"Even better, you can come and look at yourself."

I moved around behind her easel.

"That is ME!" I squeaked, and sat down on Kate`s palette.

"Yes," said Kate with a sort of self conscious pride. "It`s your
essence. Yes that`s the word. Essence! Look, there`s some brown paper
here. You can wrap it in that after your supper. It will be dry
then.

"And the fee? The entrance ."

"It won't be much. I`ll pay you back when I`ve established myself." She
always says
that and I have lost count of what she owes me.

I shrugged and went into my kitchen.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * *

I finally put the last piece of tape on the painting. It was ready to
go. I
looked around and thought back to the day when Kate had first descended
upon me
fresh from her first year course at art school. She had no time for
them at all
and was going to set up on her own, she told me. That was six months
ago.

She had always been the pusher at school and at home. I had quietly
got on
and went to secretarial school and now held a job in a financial
concern.
'The quiet one,' as my parents always introduced me. I let her push me
when I
thought she needed to, and here I sat with the result of her pushing on
my
knee.

I hadn`t a clue whether it was good of its kind or not. But I didn`t
like it
much. Six weeks work seemed to be the result of five minutes slapping
on of
various bits of paint. Meanwhile Kate went off to her lecture.

Suddenly I saw a canvas against the wall of about the same size as the
painting. I
didn`t even pause to think about it. I seized it and put it on the
easel, grabbed a
couple of brushes and slapped some red yellow and blue paints on the
pallet

Then I worked on that canvas really hard. They had written me off for
Art at
school, but who were 'they'? I created a painting which I would call
'Essence of
Kate' - after all, I too should know my sister.

After about thirty minutes I stepped back to look at it. What would
'they'
whoever they were make of it? It wasn`t Picasso, but it wasn`t
Gainsborough
either - unless he had been copied by Van Gogh after a row with
Gaugin.

Oh I knew all the names!

Like Kate's I fixed a hanging wire behind the canvas.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * *

An hour later I was in the entrance to the town hall, with two
parcels. I wrote
out two labels, unwrapped my two paintings and stuck the labels on
their backs.
I paid out two substantial fees and returned home to find a gleeful
Kate.

"Wonderful," she said, sipping hot chocolate. "I wish I could paint
like Bacon."

"Don`t you already? . More or less."

Kate ignored the irony. "Did you get the label right? Katherine not
Kate?"

"Of course," I answered smugly.

* * * * * * * * * * * * *

That Saturday I picked up Kate at noon from her supermarket and we
headed for
the town hall. Judging had been done at eleven-thirty and the Mayor was
just
finishing his speech, so that we could now go round and look at the
offerings.
Several paintings had labels attached and a few were getting the little
red
circles to tell us that they had been sold.

We closed in on a crowd peering at one painting., passing
remarks.

".. Sustained effort .."

".. The bitter, bitter contrasts ."

".. The sheer cheek of the tonal clashed .."

I eased forward. "FIRST PRIZE," announced the label. "K.Brown." The
painting was mine.

I felt the heat as my cheeks turned scarlet. I had never, ever thought
of
actually winning with my joke. I turned round. Kate was no longer in
sight.

I moved off. Then I saw her. She was wandering around the pictures and
appeared
to be in a daze. I found that my main feeling was pity for her.

Then I saw her picture. It was marked "Highly Commended," and for me
seemed to stand out. Standing by it was a suave man in a very smart
suit. He was
writing down the label details. He turned to me as I came up.

"That," he said, "is what I call art. Not the thing that they have
given the prize to. Eh?"

Of course I had to agree. And was about to tell him who had painted it
when Kate
turned up. I made an introduction.

He smiled at her. "I simply must have it in my London gallery," he
said.
"We won't have it on sale until I have a bit more of your work though.
I take it
you have some?

Kate stared, and glanced at me, who stood a little apart and gazed at
the
next door painting. Then she astonished me.

"How about," she murmured, "putting it in the window with the
prize-winner, and
labelling them both, 'The Essence of K.'" She Then explained that we
were
sisters and that was the only way she would let it go.

The man shrugged and agreed! "Anything to get yours." He then smiled
at me too.

I smiled at them both, but essentially at Kate, who seemed to have
some love in
store as well.