InsaneJournal

Who: Simon & Others
What: Opening day of his first exhibit
Where: SoCa Metro Gallery
When: Today and throughout the week
Warnings: None to speak of
Notes: Consider this to be an open, party-style log. Since his exhibit is running for a week, feel free to drop in at any time. Just title your comment with the day in question in case other characters are there at the same time. I'll tag in to anyone who comments, though if you don't want me to, feel free to say that as well. Simon doesn't have to notice everyone who stops in. xD

SoCa Metro Gallery was small, tucked into a small space on a busy street, and unless you were particularly interested in finding it, one was likely to simply pass it by. But that was something that Simon was rather fond of, because it was in places like that that one often found little nuggets of beauty.

He could only hope other people could think the same about his exhibit.

Opening day, and he was wracked with nausea at the mere thought of people coming in to see his art, potentially buying it, and potentially hating it. He was much more content to bring in several pieces to sell when he was no where near the place to keep an eye on things, but the curator of the gallery had requested him to spend as much time as he could at the gallery, particularly during opening day. So there he was, rubbing sweat-slick hands against his slacks, trying to gather his nerves into a bundle that he could handle.

It wasn't going very well.

Various examples of his paintings were hung on the walls, most featuring picturesque scenes of the ocean, mountains, and forests. There were also several abstract pieces that were bright in colour and thick with meaning to their creator, and centered in the midst of those abstract pieces was one piece that could only speak of one thing. Halloween. It wasn't obvious at first glance, but the colours and motifs used in the oil piece all pulled together to speak of a day that was both important to him and frustrating as well. Maybe a part of him hoped that it would have some meaning to someone else; part of him hoped the person out there that was his twin would recognise it and say something.

But Simon didn't hold his breath.

He did hold on to a bottle of water, though, taking a drink from it every few moments as he paced the gallery floor, waiting for people to arrive so he could attempt some manner of hospitality to them.