Zoie - Meet The Artist

From Masq
Date: Setting:

IC:  09/16/2008
RL: 03/15/2011

J. Garza Art Studio

This wide open space is all exposed brick and wide, weathered wooden beams, crowned with a high beamed ceiling. Run down, perhaps, but restored, slowly, by hard work. One wall hosts arched windows, curtained with gauzy fabric that perhaps started off white, but is now artfully tattered around the edges; nearby, where the light is best, stand several easels and canvases in various stages of completion, along with the expected tools of the artist's trade: rolling carts full of brushes and paint tubes, blank stretched canvases, linseed oil, rags smeared with polychrome discards. Finished paintings lean against the walls.

More of the floor space is given over to the studio than to living space; the latter is separated by plain folding screens. A Navajo "eye-dazzler" rug brightens the foot of an entirely functional bed and mismatched dresser, a few personal effects and jewelry strewn casually here and there. The kitchen is little more than a hotplate, mini-fridge, and coffee-making supplies, and a door at the back leads to the small, blue-tiled bathroom.

Joaquin's studio is off the Spanish Courtyard in Old Town. A good address and one popular with artists, though the rents are a little high for a guy whose work doesn't have the tourist appeal of the Georgia O'Keeffe knockoffs you'll find elsewhere in Old Town. Still, the studio's always open, for those who'd like to see the glamorous life of the contemporary artist. At the moment, the contemporary artist is in the back making some coffee while the Iguanas waft from his stereo.

Zoie steps into the place a bit uncertainly. If there is a bell, it rings. A gasp comes from her lips as the door swings back closed against her rear and propels Zoie forwards. A bright splash of color upon her cheeks before she takes a moment to look around the studio. "H.. Hello?" The voice is highly melodic when it rings forth.

The Contemporary Artist appears from what passes for a kitchen, and he's... short, and paint-smeared. But really, really good-looking, so that's something. "Oh, hey," he says with a smile he almost certainly practices in the mirror. "Come on in and look around. Let me know if you have any questions."

Zoie has that gorgeous appeal, but it's met with a woman that doesn't realize it about herself. Zoie actually gives a bit of a jump when he appears and then clears her throat. "I.. I hope I'm not interrupting. It is just I was out walking and thought I might.. look at your art." It sounds a bit weak even to her and even if it is truthful. "What piece is your favorite?"

Joaquin runs a hand through his hair, casting an eye across the studio. "Uh, I don't really have favorites. My favorite is whatever I'm working on right now. I have /un/favorites, I guess, mostly stuff I did a while ago and I look at it now and the meaning doesn't come across or my technique wasn't there yet or it just doesn't scream.

Zoie looks across the walls and then back towards him and smiles in a sweet manner. "No, I just like art. I'm a dance major at the college, but.." Her shoulders lift a bit to that. "I.. am I taking too much of your time?" Zoie seems a bit shocked that she didn't think of that before she lowers her green eyes from him. "I'm sorry. It's one of those new to town things. I just sort of wander."

Joaquin curves both hands around his coffee mug. "Uh.. no. You're fine. Take your time." It's not friendly art; most tourists just get as far as poking their heads in and leave when they see a sprawling work in progress incorporating bright colors and Native pictographs together with headlines from tribal newspapers (of which many are located about the place, from all over the country) concerning economic doom.

Zoie moves over towards the oil painting first. "I've never really tried art. I don't think I would be too good at it." She gives a soft giggle to the comment she makes and then turns to look more fully at him. "It must be amazing to have all this skill and so you can do it for a living. Are you from around here?"

Joaquin is pretty sure she's not gonna drop buckets of cash on his art at this point, but he gives it a friendly enough smile. Maybe her parents own a gallery! You never know! "Yup. ABQ born and raised." You paged Jackson with 'And I went to her table, joined her and made the boys come over.'

Zoie does have that Manhatten accent that people tend to associate with stock markets and money. There is a shake of her head. "I always get lost just moving about the city." Her green eyes focus back on his. "What is your favorite place here? I'm new so I haven't seen all that much."

Joaquin says, "Uh, Lindy's coffee shop. Everybody says the Frontier's sweet rolls are the awesomest, but Lindy's are better. They ain't open all night anymore but they start up early."

Zoie lowers her brows in concentration to remember that. "Well I will um.. remember that thanks." She moves over to look at the canvas, but doesn't get too close to the work. Her eyes taking in the colors and the attempts to make a statement. "You are passionate about your work?"

Joaquin says, "Hell of a lousy way to make a living if you're not. Pretty lousy way to make a living anyway actually."

Zoie nods her head. "So how did you decide on it then?" Her voice soft as she looks around the studio and then back towards him. Suddenly, she blushes and offers her hand. "Zoie. Zoie Croft. I'm sorry. I should have introduced myself."

Joaquin says "I didn't decide on it. It's just what I do, it's what I have to do." He smiles and gives a brief but warm handshake. "Joaquin Garza. But I mean the name's on the door, right, so you probably knew that." He grabs a sheet of paper from near the door, which proves to be a one-sheet biography featuring a photo of JQ at his most disarmingly stunning, together with images of several of his paintings, and a brief bio which claims he is an Albuquerque native, a member of the Chiricahua Apache Nation, and, if you do the math, 23 big years old.

Zoie reads over the bio and looks up. There is something of an apology to her eyes. "I hate to ask this. Please... please don't think I'm being rude. What is a Chi.. a Chirac...what is this nation that you belong to? I haven't heard of it before."

Joaquin pronounces it clearly. "Chiricahua. Yeah, most people haven't."

Zoie nods her head to the correct way it is pronounced. "So, what is it and what are the differences?" She lightly pinkens. "Or am I not supposed to know?"

Joaquin is polite about it when he says "Not gonna give you a history lesson, no. Lot of different Apache groups, you can Google it if you feel like. Oh, and if you get a chance, hit up the Golden Crown Panaderia." He pronounces the Spanish word as though it were a native tongue. "They have these amazing biscochitos, which you should have if you're visiting. It's a couple blocks from here. Official state cookie."

Zoie looks towards the door. "I don't suppose you might want to come with me." Zoie opens her eyes wide. "I mean not a date. I mean not that I wouldn't date you. It's not a race thing. I just mean I maybe am sorta seeing someone. I just thought you might want a cookie. Not that you need a cookie or anything. Its just you said down the street and I thought you might be asking. No, wait. I don't mean asking me out. I'm not what you.. I mean not that I /need/ to be what you.." Zoie trails off to just breath as the rest of that came out in one large panic breath.

Joaquin listens to this with an increasingly mystified expression as the girl goes on, and cuts through the verbiage as best he can. "Uh. Are you asking me out?"

Zoie blushes a bright, bright scarlet. "No! I mean.. not that you aren't worth asking out. I just.. you know.. wasn't doing that."

Joaquin half-grins. "If you blush any more, I'm kinda afraid something's gonna explode. That can't be healthy."

Zoie turns just a shade brighter as it is pointed out and then actually lifts her hands to cover her face. "I'm sorry.. I can't control it."

Joaquin peers curiously. "Is that like rosacea or something?" Zoie shakes her head. "No.. it's like embarrassment. Don't you ever blush?" Zoie's soft voice has gone a bit whispery as she peers between her fingers at him.

Joaquin is still eyeing her curiously. "Not like /that,/ man. Really? That wasn't that embarrassing. What do you do when really embarrassing stuff happens?"

Zoie looks at him in a manner of confusion. Her head tips to the left much like an uncertain puppy. "What do you mean really embarassing. Like what?"

Joaquin says, "Well, I don't know. I mean, if you, like, got your skirt caught in your pantyhose or something."

Zoie opens her eyes wide and starts to look at her rear before realizing she's not wearing a skirt. "Well.. I blush and stammer. I .. I guess I just sort of do it for all things embarassing." Thank you for voting for Joaquin. Your input is greatly appreciated!

Joaquin gives a sort of sympathetic nod. "That must be kind of difficult. Anyway, biscochitos are anise-flavored, so if you don't like black licorice I'd steer clear but in that case they have like dessert flautas."

"Flauntas?" Zoie repeats back thoughtfully as she looks over her shoulder and then back to the man. "Well.. maybe I could try all of them." Not a good way to keep her figure though.

Joaquin says, "Flautas. I would really recommend getting down with the local food if you're gonna be around here for a while. All you need to know is, deep fried."

Zoie nods her head as she starts to back towards the door. "Okay.. well um.. thanks for.." She takes a breath. "The suggestions, I think I'm going to check them out."

Joaquin says, "'Kay. See you round."

Zoie backs out of the shop and almost trips on the doorstep on her way out.