Art Forms by Lainie Stone
Sorry, guys. LJ's upgrading has been preventing me from posting and so the crackvan has not travelled far. I shall try to sneak a couple more in before I hand over the keys. (On which note, Pros fans: sign up! There look to be only two months of the crack_van left - see this announcement for details, and it would be awful to miss the final runs.)
I think that after the week that Pros fandom has had (for readers who see this in the future, I post this the week the death of Lewis Collins was announced), the only sort of story I want to rec is a gentle one, a wistful one, a warm one. And so here we are.
Fandom: THE PROFESSIONALS
Pairing: Bodie/Doyle
Length: 6,700 words
Author on LJ: not on LJ
Author Website: not online
Why this must be read:
I have liked this story since first I read it, and then something happened to me that made me think of it with a new appreciation. I am afraid the story is not online - well, not in the sense of being on the web. It is available via the Proslib mailing list, either by looking in the long stories section of the archives, or by obtaining the archives on CD.
For those currently subscribed to the proslib mailing list, they will also find it in the the long stories section at the moment (thanks, owner-proslib!)
It's established canon that Doyle has at least some interest in art: he has taken some classes in the subject and he still paints. And there's lots of stories which use this as a starting point (and an entire genre of AUs in which Doyle is an artist). This is a story in which Bodie follows Doyle to an evening assignation to find that Doyle has an entire circle of friends that Bodie didn't know about, old friends from art school. And Bodie has stumbled into one of their regular sessions, where they meet, and take turns to model. And he is disoriented by how much he doesn't know about his partner.
Bodie had a momentary panic as he shed his weapon. He felt almost guilty, as though he were a voyeur looking sinfully at Doyle's secrets. He hadn't expected to be welcomed, accepted. He had had a half notion he'd find Doyle cozied up with a new bird, had a passing notion of nicking her just for devilment. Almost would have preferred to have his ears blistered. And why had he thought he was Ray's only friend? The lost feeling swamped him and he shut down his emotions, feeling a truth coming he wasn't ready for.
Their willing acceptance of him and recognition of him is even more disorienting, especially when one of them realises something he hasn't quite realised himself. While Bodie has been watching Doyle wistfully as he poses drowsily for the group, Harry has painted Doyle:
From one to the other he looked without comment until he saw Harry's. Harry had the same vision, his vision. The leaves were yellow and orange already, the body showing gold, auburn in the indistinct curls. He stared shocked, first at the painting, then into Harry's warm brown eyes.
"You too, eh?" Harry said, his whisper just for Bodie. "Hope you have better luck than I have. If not, come around the pub and we'll drink away our sorrow."
Bodie held the gaze a moment longer, then made his way stiffly to Gary. "I have to go now," he said politely. "I want to thank you for your hospitality." He went to each of them, whispering goodbyes, wanting desperately to flee.
It is Harry's alertness which leads to a happy ending, but I won't spoil it.
So... why this one?
The reason I have such a soft spot for this story is the depiction of the group when Bodie stumbles into it all. Doyle is modelling, and the rest are all working quietly, each occupied in their own painting or drawing, and the sense of peace and shared content. There is a pause and they rest, and the conversation flows gently, and their intimacy - both present and past - is clear.
And I used to think that much as I loved this story, this was all a bit... well, idealised. That atmosphere. This gentle shared experience, this easiness with other people, this slow content.
Until the time when I met it for myself. Until the time when I went to an art session where a group of people (with no experience whatsoever) got together and people in the group took turns posing. And we looked at the sitters each in their turn, and we considered, and we sketched - appallingly, but that wasn't the point - and the world shrank down to just our little corner of the room and what we were doing. And it was absolutely lovely. And as I sat in my turn, I remembered this story.
I do not think that any of us discovered other people's passions through drawing, nor through the eyes of another observing things we had not seen ourselves... but otherwise... otherwise, it was just like the atmosphere in the story. And it was wonderful. I look back on that experience with a sort of awed wonderment still.
And so: my rec for today is this story. Absolutely what you need to read at the end of a bad week.
To read it:
Details on Proslib are here: http://hatstand.slashcity.net/proslib/intro.html
Details on the CD are here: http://hatstand.slashcity.net/proslib/cdindex.html
I think that after the week that Pros fandom has had (for readers who see this in the future, I post this the week the death of Lewis Collins was announced), the only sort of story I want to rec is a gentle one, a wistful one, a warm one. And so here we are.
Fandom: THE PROFESSIONALS
Pairing: Bodie/Doyle
Length: 6,700 words
Author on LJ: not on LJ
Author Website: not online
Why this must be read:
I have liked this story since first I read it, and then something happened to me that made me think of it with a new appreciation. I am afraid the story is not online - well, not in the sense of being on the web. It is available via the Proslib mailing list, either by looking in the long stories section of the archives, or by obtaining the archives on CD.
For those currently subscribed to the proslib mailing list, they will also find it in the the long stories section at the moment (thanks, owner-proslib!)
It's established canon that Doyle has at least some interest in art: he has taken some classes in the subject and he still paints. And there's lots of stories which use this as a starting point (and an entire genre of AUs in which Doyle is an artist). This is a story in which Bodie follows Doyle to an evening assignation to find that Doyle has an entire circle of friends that Bodie didn't know about, old friends from art school. And Bodie has stumbled into one of their regular sessions, where they meet, and take turns to model. And he is disoriented by how much he doesn't know about his partner.
Bodie had a momentary panic as he shed his weapon. He felt almost guilty, as though he were a voyeur looking sinfully at Doyle's secrets. He hadn't expected to be welcomed, accepted. He had had a half notion he'd find Doyle cozied up with a new bird, had a passing notion of nicking her just for devilment. Almost would have preferred to have his ears blistered. And why had he thought he was Ray's only friend? The lost feeling swamped him and he shut down his emotions, feeling a truth coming he wasn't ready for.
Their willing acceptance of him and recognition of him is even more disorienting, especially when one of them realises something he hasn't quite realised himself. While Bodie has been watching Doyle wistfully as he poses drowsily for the group, Harry has painted Doyle:
From one to the other he looked without comment until he saw Harry's. Harry had the same vision, his vision. The leaves were yellow and orange already, the body showing gold, auburn in the indistinct curls. He stared shocked, first at the painting, then into Harry's warm brown eyes.
"You too, eh?" Harry said, his whisper just for Bodie. "Hope you have better luck than I have. If not, come around the pub and we'll drink away our sorrow."
Bodie held the gaze a moment longer, then made his way stiffly to Gary. "I have to go now," he said politely. "I want to thank you for your hospitality." He went to each of them, whispering goodbyes, wanting desperately to flee.
It is Harry's alertness which leads to a happy ending, but I won't spoil it.
So... why this one?
The reason I have such a soft spot for this story is the depiction of the group when Bodie stumbles into it all. Doyle is modelling, and the rest are all working quietly, each occupied in their own painting or drawing, and the sense of peace and shared content. There is a pause and they rest, and the conversation flows gently, and their intimacy - both present and past - is clear.
And I used to think that much as I loved this story, this was all a bit... well, idealised. That atmosphere. This gentle shared experience, this easiness with other people, this slow content.
Until the time when I met it for myself. Until the time when I went to an art session where a group of people (with no experience whatsoever) got together and people in the group took turns posing. And we looked at the sitters each in their turn, and we considered, and we sketched - appallingly, but that wasn't the point - and the world shrank down to just our little corner of the room and what we were doing. And it was absolutely lovely. And as I sat in my turn, I remembered this story.
I do not think that any of us discovered other people's passions through drawing, nor through the eyes of another observing things we had not seen ourselves... but otherwise... otherwise, it was just like the atmosphere in the story. And it was wonderful. I look back on that experience with a sort of awed wonderment still.
And so: my rec for today is this story. Absolutely what you need to read at the end of a bad week.
To read it:
Details on Proslib are here: http://hatstand.slashcity.net/proslib/intro.html
Details on the CD are here: http://hatstand.slashcity.net/proslib/cdindex.html