"Yeah," she replied, biting her nails. It lacks .... sizzle."
"Sizzle," he repeated. "Sizzle. Lacks sizzle."
"You know. Pizzazz. Oomph. Bling."
"Uh, sure," he replied, but his face had that quizzical look. "Sizzle. Sizzle." He kept repeating it under his breath, as he paced back and forth in front of the canvas.
It was his latest work, and the largest he'd ever attempted. It filled the entire side wall of his studio. He was distressed. he'd so wanted to impress her, so longed to hear that she loved it and that his misgivings were unwarranted.
Finally, he stopped pacing.
"So ... you think that 'sizzle' was what I was going for, and I just didn't quite make it happen?" he asked.
"Well, not necessarily. It's just that with a painting of this size you kind of expect something to pop out at you. I was looking for a big statement. Or big color. Something big, besides the size of the canvas. I mean, it's a nice piece of work technically. I just think... well, maybe it's not finished yet."
"Maybe you're right," he said, but inside his head he was screaming, 'Nice? Nice? don't friggin' say my work is nice! Shit. This is a disaster. why did I let her see it? Let her? I invited her!"
He'd resumed his pacing. she turned away from the painting to look at him and finally noticed that he was upset.
"God, I'm sorry. I didn't .... You asked for my opinion, and you know I'm not going to lie to you."
"No, you're right," he said. "I trust your opinion, that's why i asked you. I want to know. I mean, I don't, but I do."
"Want to go get some coffee?" she asked.
"No, you go. I want to think about it. Work on it some."
"Okay. sorry!" She squeezed his shoulder and slipped out the door.
And there he was, back to facing this monstrosity, this thing he'd created that missed the mark, that didn't pop, that lacked sizzle.
Was she right? he knew that he tended to get bowled over by other people's opinions when it concerned his art. Maybe this time he was on track and she was off.
Pacing, pacing.
"Take a break," he told himself. "Come back with a fresh eye."
So, he pulled himself away and filled a mug with water and stuck it in the microwave. he rifled through his tea choices, settling on a calming green variety. Mug in hand, he walked over to the window to look down on the street while he drank. When he got down to the dregs he allowed himself to face his work again.
Scanning, scanning .... then suddenly he saw it: an opening, a possibility, a new way in. He grabbed a brush and a tube of red paint and got to work. She was right! He'd been right to have her come and look. Now he saw what had been missing. sizzle? Not what he'd have called it. But something. Something.
Prompt: Lacks Sizzle, 1/17/09
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