In the rising light of the morning The Councillor and his bailiffs walked in to the studio of Heinrich Neiting, The Perverse Artist, and began to seize his work. The Perverse Artist stood in the corner of his naturally lit studio, fascinated by the authoritative stance of the official, and his struggle to avoid making eye contact with any of the paintings laid around the room.
Heinrich positioned himself in front of his current piece, “The Rose of Lucia”, an elegant nude portrait of his favourite model, laid playfully in the rose garden at the memorial park. As the room gradually cleared of it’s two dimensional guests Heinrich grew amused by the failure of the Councillor to
address him.
The two roughly shod bailiffs cackled and made lewd remarks between themselves as they removed the offensive pictures from the walls, but the Councillor kept his head down and scribbled furiously in his notebook. Only when the room was clear, except for Heinrich and “Lucia”, did the Councillor speak.
“Mr Neiting, if you would step aside, there is one last obscenity to be destroyed.”
“Now, how do you know it’s an obscenity when you have never seen it Councillor?”
The Councillor was taken aback by Heinrich’s playful question.
He shuffled uncomfortably, glancing over his shoulder to check if the bailiffs had come back into the room.
“Mr Neiting, you are a perverse artist, and your works serve no purpose other than to corrupt those unfortunate enough to set eyes upon them.”
Heinrich strolled to the other side of the room and bit his lip, exposing his masterpiece to his intruders. He curiously watched the eyes of the councillor widen as he saw for the first time the porcelain face of Lucia. Her graceful neck and delicate breast, and most strikingly the velvet skin of Lucia’s thighs, spread wide open to reveal a scarlet long stem rose carefully painted in place of her sex.
“Tell me Mr Councillor, are you now corrupted?”
The councillor signalled to his two subordinates to arrest the painting and destroy it as they had the others. The Councillor turned to leave.
“If I hear of any more such pieces I will return and destroy them also, as I did the others before these. Good day Mr Neiting.”
Heinrich strode into the doorway and blocked the Councillors path.
“Her flesh is much softer than I could ever convey with oils Councillor. You should see her in person. She is the most beautiful creature I’ve ever laid eyes on. What do you think?”
The councillor’s face betrayed a panic that his authority could not endure.
“I think. I think that maybe it is not just your work that is perverse Mr Neiting. If I hear such vulgarity from you again then I shall have no choice but to report to my superiors that you are a highly corrupt man and it is no longer safe for you to remain at large in the community.”
“Mr Councillor, does all that Authority ever strike you as more perverse than a simple man painting what he considers beauty? You know, some may consider it corrupt that you see the things that you censor other people from seeing? “
The Perverse Artist smiled and stepped aside, and the Councillor stormed out of the room.
- A short fiction piece regarding an artist whose work is not valued by the state.
©2009 Copyright Daniel J. Fiasco
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