"David Garnett - Still Life" - читать интересную книгу автора (Garnett David)

"Don't say anything," Corinne told him. "All you have to do is nod your
head."
Robert did as he was told; he nodded his head.
"Good," said Corinne. "That's settled. It'll be my last and my best."
She tried not to think about why she wanted a portrait of Robert, but
was aware it was because as the years went by she would have a
permanent reminder of him as he was now тАФ before he had grown old.
But for the same reason, she had no intention of doing a self-portrait.
Corinne had never painted herself тАФ she didn't want to remember how she
had been, not when the mirror showed her the way she was now. The idea
had not been very pleasant in the past, but for the future it seemed even
more frightening, forever taunting her with the opportunity of
immortality тАФ which she had thrown away.
"And when I've finished," Corinne concluded, "we're going to go on a
holiday. A long tour of the world, visit some of the places we've never seen
тАФ while they still exist."
The portrait was the most difficult Corinne had painted in years.
Perhaps it was so hard to capture Robert on canvas because she knew him
too well, or it was because they were in an entirely different relationship
during the sessions. It took much longer than she had anticipated.
 "I'm not surprised no one ever asks you to paint them twice," Robert
had said on the first day. "It's so boring sitting here. At least you could
talk to me."
"Move your arm back where it was," Corinne had replied.
"I'm glad I'm not paying for this," he'd complained, shifting his elbow
half an inch along the arm of the chair.
Half of the work of a painting was done when the subject had left; she
worked directly with oils on a prepared canvas. When she was alone and
without distraction, she could concentrate on the more detailed work of
the background and clothing. It looked more natural to follow what should
have been there rather than what she'd actually seen. She could invent the
texture of cloth and the way it hung, imagine the shadows where it was
folded and creased, far more authentically than it ever appeared in real
life.
Finally, on the fifth day, Corinne said: "That's it. You can go now."
"Thank God for that." Robert stood up and stretched, rubbing at the
back of his neck. He began to walk toward the easel. "Can I take a look?"
"No." She hadn't allowed him to see what she'd done yet; she never
showed her portraits until they were complete.
"You said you were finished," said Robert, but he halted.
"I said you could go; I didn't say I'd finished. I'll be a few more hours
yet, but I don't need you." She glanced from the picture and over at
Robert, and she smiled as though she'd just seen him тАФ he was no longer
the stranger who'd been sitting for her. "I want to get it done tonight."
"O.K. When do you think you'll be through?"
тАЬI'll be back about eight, no later than nine."
"Fine. Don't be late; I'll book a table for dinner, to celebrate. Shall I pick
you up here?"
Corinne nodded, her attention returning to the painting in front of her.
"That way at least I'll get to see my picture," said Robert. "I'll come by