Where the Light Plays

by C. Fonseca

  To: a.rey@gmail.com

  Subject: Come To Light

  Hi Andréa,

  I just visited the Black-Tern Gallery, where I had the pleasure of seeing your painting, Come to Light. Cynthia, the manager, mentioned it might be possible to visit your studio? I’m in Hakea for the next few days, and if it’s convenient, I am interested to view more of your work.

  Yours sincerely,

  C. Quinn

  P.S. Your painting has brought A. Rey of light into my day.

  Half an hour later, Caitlin descended the narrow steps from the lighthouse to the beach below. She wandered along the sand, shoes in one hand and camera around her neck, simply taking pleasure in the rolling surf and spectacular views of the Otway Ranges. Her phone vibrated, alerting her to incoming email.

  To: cquinn@bella.org

  Subject: Come To Light

  Thank you for your interest. If you are in the area tomorrow, I currently have a small number of paintings at the studio and will be happy for you to view them. A ray of light?

  Thank you. I hope you won’t be disappointed.

  A.Rey

  P.S. Studio A. Rey. Follow the road to the end of Surfview Court, at the start of the reserve. Any time after midday.

  Caitlin returned her phone to her pocket. With a new burst of energy, she lifted her camera to her eye. Using the razor-sharp lens, she set about taking photographs of the coastal landscape. She captured some interesting rock formations and, from a changed perspective, took several shots of the lighthouse set against the horizon.

  She recalled the absolute radiance and force of Andréa’s painting. There was something about it that made her feel less solitary and heightened Caitlin’s awareness of her surroundings. Cynthia mentioned Andréa had a tendency to be a bit reclusive, but she hadn’t hesitated to invite her to the studio. Caitlin was curious, and her visit tomorrow would be a sure way to find out more about the mysterious artist.

  CHAPTER 3

  Caitlin glanced at her watch and was surprised that her walk along the pathway from Kinsale to Andréa’s studio had taken less than twenty-five minutes. The path was a scenic route that traversed the cliff from one end of the town to the other, with fantastic views of the ocean.

  She entered through a garden filled with native flowering shrubs and a scattering of sculptural, black-trunked xanthorrhoea grass trees. Caitlin approached the studio under a canopy of graceful hanging branches, soft green leaves, and clusters of feathery flowers. She brushed past the foliage, and the air filled with the sweet smell of lemon and lime. She inhaled deeply to enjoy the perfume. The fragrance was tangy and intoxicating.

  The exterior of the studio was modest but striking. Caitlin wasn’t surprised to see solar panels on the blue-grey, sloping roof. They were a feature on nearly every house in Hakea.

  A small, beige cat wearing a bright-red collar and tag greeted Caitlin at the top of the timber stairs. The cat stared suspiciously and slinked towards her with slow, graceful movements.

  “Hello, little one. Aren’t you beautiful…are you a Burmese? I think you are.” She bent down to stroke the cat, and it closed its eyes and rubbed its head against Caitlin’s wrist.

  Before she reached the brass bell, the door swung open. Caitlin stared with a mixture of surprise and disbelief.

  “Andi?”

  The puzzled look on Andi’s face soon gave way to a broad grin. Time stood still as they gazed at one another, and when Andi blinked, her intense brown eyes fleetingly disappeared behind long lashes.

  “C. Quinn?”

  Caitlin returned Andi’s smile. “It is I, Caitlin Quinn. Well, this is serendipitous.” It really was. Caitlin had envisioned the reclusive artist Cynthia had spoken about to be many things. She had pictured an eccentric, antisocial, spectacled woman with wild hair. Wrong, wrong, wrong. Andréa Rey was gorgeous.

  “It is unexpected, isn’t it?” Andi asked. “Please, come in. I see you’ve already met Koda. Just watch out. If she likes you, you’ll have beige hair all over those dark trousers.” Andi ran her hand through her hair as she stood aside to welcome Caitlin into the studio. They both stepped inside, followed closely by the friendly little feline.

  “She is beautiful, and a bit of fur doesn’t bother me. Thank you so much for letting me visit today,” Caitlin said as she took in her surroundings. Visiting an artist’s studio allowed a glimpse into their private world, and she certainly was curious about this artist’s private world. Andi appeared to have a quiet strength. A body that was strong, yet fluid in movement. As Caitlin stepped closer to her, electricity seemed to spark through her own body.

  Andi grinned shyly. “That’s cool. I haven’t had any visitors at the studio for a while. I was pleased to receive your email and surprised to see you again.”

  A happy surprise, she hoped. “Cynthia explained that you’re recently back at work after taking some time off. Is this your home too?” she asked as she looked around the large room that included a comfortable lounge area and a doorway leading to a small kitchen. The high roof space, ceiling fans, and natural light filtering through diffused, overhead skylight panels created a perfect space for painting.

  “Yes, this is my studio and my home.”

  Caitlin couldn’t help but admire Andi’s bohemian attire—paint-splattered jeans and a polka dotted T-shirt. She was sexy. Caitlin averted her gaze; she had been staring. “You’ve created a fantastic working environment here.” She smiled warmly at Andi. “It really is nice to see you again, and bizarre, don’t you think?”

  “It’s totally random,” Andi said. “So, would you like to look around now?”

  They stood before the rough-hewn planks that formed Andi’s workbench. It was covered with splashes of paint and, like a canvas, told its own story. Two stainless steel trolleys held art supplies, multiple pots of acrylic paint, boxes of brushes, rollers, and palette knives of all sizes. On the top of the bench lay a large rectangular painting.

  “Work in progress,” explained Andi.

  Caitlin looked at the painting. The unfinished work appeared to consist of urgent gestural strokes that conveyed the energy and movement of the sea, of shifting light, and of blurred skies.

  Andi slowly traced one finger over the canvas surface. “I love the water. But when it’s like this, big and turbulent, the moody sea and the sky is ever changing. I’m in awe, and it terrifies me.” She looked directly at Caitlin. “This is a piece for my exhibition next December.” Her voice had an enticing rhythm, a mix of calm and fierce energy. She spoke with such passion, and Caitlin wondered if that intensity was only reserved for her art.

  “And the exhibition would be where?”

  “At the Watershed in Geelong, a private gallery that exhibits mainly artists from this region. It’s on the old pier, and the harbour is an excellent backdrop. Do you know Geelong at all?”

  Caitlin shook her head. On her visits to Kinsale, Caitlin took the ring road that diverted around Geelong. It was the second largest city in Victoria, located on the shores of Port Phillip Bay, but she hadn’t yet taken the time to explore.

  “The waterfront is worth visiting. Lots of good restaurants and cafés, the art deco pool is fun for a dip in summer,” Andi said.

  Caitlin hovered over Andi’s shoulder to examine the painting. She felt unusually tongue-tied. It was unsettling being in close proximity to Andi. Her sun-streaked hair was just long enough to brush the base of her neck. With her finely muscled shoulders just a few centimetres away, Caitlin inhaled her subtle fragrance of citrus and sandalwood. She breathed out slowly, reminded herself she was here to look at the artworks, and placed a serious look on her face.

  “The painting at Black-Tern is breathtaking. I’m curious—would you tell me what inspired you to paint Come to Light?” That seascape was a combination of intense light and raw emotion, and it exuded the same visceral physicality and energy as Andi’s unfinished work.

  Andi turned, and Caitlin stepped back to wait for an answer. And
i leaned up against the workbench with her arms folded tightly across her chest. “My inspiration? I don’t know if it was any one thing.” She pushed her hands into her pockets. “I went through a bit of a slump, and I couldn’t paint for a while. At the time, I was so disconnected that I was only just managing to keep up with my design work.”

  Caitlin tilted her head to one side. What had caused Andi’s separation from something she was clearly so passionate about? “What changed?” she asked softly.

  “After months of no motivation and wandering around aimlessly, I started reconnecting with the landscape, especially the sea. And it suddenly became important to create something tangible and familiar. I pulled out a large canvas and thought, ‘This is it.’”

  Caitlin nodded. The painting reflected the absorption and scattering of light. “That’s why you called it Come to Light. It was you emerging from your fog?”

  Andi hesitated. “Yes, that was the turning point. I was lucky Cynthia appreciated my shift in style, especially since I hadn’t shown her anything new for over a year.”

  Caitlin recalled that Cynthia displayed quite a proprietary attitude to the painting. “She must really love it, because she immediately told me it was not for sale.” Smiling, she added, “I am really looking forward to seeing more of your work.”

  Andi grinned and lowered her eyes self-consciously.

  Caitlin watched, amused, as Andi shifted from one leg to the other, her gaze fixed down at her bare feet. She looked vulnerable, a little uncertain, which made her even more intriguing. Passion seemed to simmer below the surface. Caitlin moved back to the art trolley. She needed to change her focus again.

  “I see you are mixing your own pigments,” she said. Many jars of dry powders, mediums, additives, and fillers such as mica, quartz, and ground glass were arranged on the art trolley.

  Sixteenth century Renaissance pigments and painting techniques had fascinated Caitlin during her research sojourn in Venice. “Are you using glass in your paintings as a reflective medium, like the paintings of the old masters?”

  Andi glanced at Caitlin curiously. “I’ve been experimenting with ground glass, mixing it in with raw pigment. It alters the shade and luminosity. Making my own paint allows me to get the precise hue and shade I need.” She gestured towards the canvas on her workbench. “I can’t always do it, but I did for this painting.”

  “It must give you a much finer degree of control and exactness.”

  “That’s it exactly. Of course, mixing my own paint is much more affordable. Art materials can be so expensive.”

  “How do you manage? This piece is large. It takes a lot of paint to cover a canvas this size, and the finishes are costly too.” Caitlin hoped that her question wasn’t too personal.

  Andi moved away from her art bench. Hands in her pockets, she appeared deep in thought. “I manage.” She shrugged. “When I lived in Melbourne, I worked for a small graphic design company. They do a lot of work for businesses on the Surf Coast—surfboard manufacturers, clothing designers, and sports travel. When I moved to Hakea, I continued to work with them on projects from home. It gives me flexibility and earns me enough money to pursue this.” She spread her arms wide to encompass her studio.

  “It must be fantastic to live and work in a purpose-built space,” Caitlin said.

  “It definitely has its advantages. I love the feeling of stepping over the threshold each morning from my living space into my own creative space.” Andi pointed to the various areas of her home. “A small galley kitchen is on the right. My bedroom and bathroom are on the left, and the storeroom and laundry are off the back deck. I don’t need much more,” she concluded. “I spend a lot of time outdoors, surfing and walking. I don’t usually run off at the mouth like this. Please, excuse me.” Andi spun around on one foot. “Can I get you a coffee or tea? Then, if you’d like, I can show you some of the paintings in the storeroom.”

  “You look like a surfer girl,” Caitlin said. The words escaped before she could stop them. “I would love a cup of tea.” Andi did look like a surfer girl, with her hair all tousled and kissed by the sun and her golden skin visible below the hem of her T-shirt. Caitlin cleared her throat and met Andi’s shy but amused look.

  “Okay, I’ll get the tea. Make yourself comfortable, and I’ll be back in a minute.”

  Caitlin wondered what drove her creativity. She looked forward to learning more about the artist and the woman who seemed so refreshingly natural and connected to her surroundings.

  Filtered sunlight filled the entire space with even natural light. The room was divided into three functional areas. On one side, a rectangular table held a large iMac, A3 printer, assorted notebooks, and colour swatches. Caitlin glanced up at the high-angled roof and floor-to-ceiling windows; they made the area seem much larger than it actually was.

  To the left of the entrance, tucked into a corner, were a small log burner, a half-wall library, and a reading nook. It looked really cosy.

  Caitlin sat down at one end of an orange sofa. Andi’s home was stylish and eclectic and felt homely and comfortable. The afternoon’s visit had taken an altogether more interesting turn the moment she’d discovered Andréa Rey’s identity.

  Andi poured tea from a red and white spotted teapot into two matching cups. “If you had signed your email as Caitlin, I may have guessed who you were,” she said. “But C. Quinn? That gave me no clue at all.”

  Caitlin laughed. “I am sorry. That was my mistake. When I sent the email from my iPhone, I must have removed the digital signature with my full name.”

  “Well, that explains it. Are you a quin?”

  Caitlin smirked as she accepted the cup from Andi. “No, there’s only one of me. I’m not a twin, nor a triplet, or a quadruplet. I am, in fact, an only child. ”

  Andi looked over at Caitlin. “And you have a sense of humour too.”

  Caitlin raised her eyebrows. She hoped to convey that she was enjoying their easy banter. “I try. This is grand. Thank you for the tea.”

  Andi settled herself into a chair across from Caitlin, her tanned legs tucked up under herself and one arm draped over the back of the chair. “No worries.”

  “Have you lived here long?”

  “I found this half-acre block of land just over four years ago. I loved it straight away, because it borders the reserve. The green belt runs through Hakea down to the beach, where the creek ends.”

  “You are so close to the surf beach. That would be a huge advantage for a surfer girl,” Caitlin teased. It was good to see Andi relax and be comfortable with her.

  “Yes, it was perfect for the lifestyle I wanted. Before I changed my mind, I used my savings and bought it. Then I lived in a caravan on site for the first six months while the studio was being built.”

  “Was it designed by an architect? It seems perfectly laid out to suit your needs.”

  “I knew what I wanted, so I drew up the plans.” Andi shrugged her shoulders like it was no special achievement.

  Caitlin leaned back into the sofa and allowed herself to admire Andi, who had placed her hands gracefully in her lap. She had beautiful, expressive artist’s hands. Strong and slender. Just the thought of those hands on her sent a shudder of longing through her body.

  As Andi held her gaze for a fleeting moment, Caitlin wondered if she could read her thoughts.

  “My brother, Luc, was the builder. His company specialises in eco-friendly builds, so it was a no-brainer.”

  “Does your brother live in Hakea too?”

  “No, Luc and the rest of my family live in country Victoria, near Ballarat. Have you heard of a small town called Navigators?” Caitlin shook her head, and Andi continued, “It’s not far from an extinct volcano called Mt. Buninyong. The area is known for its rich volcanic soil; it’s perfect for vegetable and fruit growing.” Her eyes twinkled. “Am I sounding like a travel brochure?”

  “That’s good. I want to learn all I can. Navigators, that’s an interesting name.” />
  “I think it has something to do with the rail link from Melbourne to Ballarat.”

  “I’ll add it to my growing list. It sounds like another place to visit.”

  Andi stood with the teapot poised over Caitlin’s empty cup. “Top up?”

  Caitlin nodded and waited for Andi to settle back into her chair. For a few minutes they sat quietly and listened to the occasional shrieking of birds, while Koda scuffled across the timber floor in pursuit of a soft toy.

  “She’s pretty cute. Is she still a kitten?” Caitlin asked, as Koda leapt onto the back of the sofa, almost causing her to spill her tea.

  Koda slinked over and purred as she headbutted Caitlin’s shoulder.

  “She’s four years old, very energetic, but she’ll always be my baby,” Andi said, looking affectionately at the beige ball of fluff.

  Oh yes, there was no doubt that Andréa Rey could be a very attractive, enticing diversion while Caitlin was in Hakea.

  CHAPTER 4

  Andi took particular care in the way she dressed for dinner. The dark-grey tunic top over a pale-lilac shirt, combined with black renegade pants, looked sharp yet felt comfortable. She glanced at her reflection in the mirror. Satisfied with her outfit, Andi rearranged her hair and shook out the loose, untidy strands. Tonight, her hair was a perfect expression of her inner feelings—messy.

  “Why does she make me so nervous?” she muttered. She had chosen her clothes because she wanted to feel confident—not because she wanted to impress.

  Earlier that afternoon, Caitlin had studied her paintings, unhurriedly examining the ten completed works to be included in the exhibition. Andi had left Caitlin in the storeroom to explore the preliminary line drawings and works on paper. She’d returned to her desk and worked at her computer while she waited for Caitlin.

  Andi played with an illustration—the new logo for a surfboard manufacturer in Hakea. The company made wooden boards to order and wanted the logo to exude “colour and groove.” She’d used a cedar surfboard herself and had experienced the special connection and joy of riding a handcrafted board. She wanted to create an artistic motif that would speak for itself.