Part 25 (1/2)
On Sat.u.r.day, I drive to Malibu, wearing my best jeans and a cerulean blue fitted tee. Apparently, cerulean blue looks optimal on video. They want the whole thing to have a very casual, cool vibe.
When I arrive at the house, there's a bustle of activity, and I'm swept into the breakfast room where the makeup artist is set up. She puts so much effort into working me over that I comment about it, but she grins and shakes her head, so it must not be so bad.
The director comes in near the end to prep me. He explains that the serious discussion and viewing of Max's paintings will be done separately with a voice-over. So, for this segment they'll use a handheld camera because they want a fun ”meet the artist” approach. Although they've given me a list of unconventional questions, they also encourage me to go wherever the moment takes me.
If he only knew, I think. The ”moment taking me” could involve Max taking me on top of his desk.
Max and I purposely avoid each other before the shoot, not wanting to ”out” our relations.h.i.+p. I smile when he gets his natural s.h.i.+ne powdered for the camera, but otherwise, I ignore him.
I'm finally called to the studio. It's lit up with bright lights on telescoping stands, and there are more paintings than usual stacked around the two facing walls.
They hook us up with little microphones and hide the wires in our clothes before positioning Max and me on stools. Next come lighting and sound checks. When everything is set, the director motions to the cameraman and asks me to start by revealing a secret about Max.
My first couple of attempts are awkward, so Max leans over and whispers in my ear, ”Why don't you tease that d.a.m.n camera like you tease me, Ava?”
I lean back, surprised. ”Tease?”
He winks with a crooked grin.
Newly inspired, I nod to the cameraman and they roll again.
”Hi, I'm Ava Jacobs, the author of Unspoken Truths, here to interview my favorite subject, the brilliant artist Maxfield Caswell. But first, I have to tell you a secret.” I jump off the stool and walk closer to the camera with my finger poised in front of my pursed lips. ”Shh, we're in the artist's studio, and you know what? He hates having anyone in here.”
”You're right about that,” Max says from behind me.
”So, today should be fun, 'cause I think I'll get him good and riled up. I mean, we're all over his studio.” I wave my arms toward the paintings and his easel.
”Cut!” the director bellows.
I immediately steel myself for a chastis.e.m.e.nt for such a stupid intro.
”Perfect!” he yells.
I gape in disbelief.
”We want fun, Ava, just like that...something that will appeal to younger art enthusiasts, since that's the demographic for the book.”
I love the idea of having fun with it, so I gently tease and taunt Max. And he gives it right back, even pus.h.i.+ng me off my stool at one point. We both end up laughing, as if we're the only people in the studio.
”What was the best thing Santa ever brought you?”
”A hamster. I named him Van Gogh because he had a deformed ear. He was smart; I even taught him to paint. He would scamper over my paint box and then put his little footprints all over my drawing pad. My mom even let me host an art show for him during one of her dinner parties.”
I've never heard this story, and I'm charmed. ”So, you were his manager, shaping his career and whatnot?”
”Yeah, until the cleaning lady stepped on him. Just like Van Gogh, his life was short, but remarkable.”
”So, if you could go back in time and live any artist's life, who would you choose?”
”Back how far? Like Andy Warhol's time?”
”Any time, you could be Michelangelo during the Renaissance in Italy.”
”Yeah, right. How long did it take him to paint that ceiling on his back?”
”Fussy artist.” I turn toward the camera and shake my head. ”He turns down being one of the great art geniuses from history, because his arms might get tired.”
His eyes light up as he raises his index finger. ”I know! Theodore Geisel.”
”You mean Dr. Seuss? Cat in the Hat? Sam I Am? Are you toying with me, Caswell?”
”Seuss was a genius! Oh, the Places You'll Go! is one of the best books ever, and the art's trippy.”
”True, but that's still an unexpected choice. I was thinking you'd pick Francis Bacon or someone upbeat like that.”
”Well, the thing about Seuss is that his books kind of messed me up as a kid, but in a good way. Besides, think about it...do you know a kid in America who wasn't influenced by his work? Get 'em young, I say.”
”So, I see you pay attention to the demographics of your fan base.”
He shrugs with a crooked smile. ”Doesn't every artist? If they don't, they should.”
At the end, I toy with him in a provocative way.
”Let's talk about the lifestyle of a contemporary artist living in L.A. I hear you live quite the life, Mr. Caswell.”
He narrows his eyes and smiles crookedly. ”So they say. Are you implying that I'm that kind of artist?”
I flip my hair over my shoulder. ”The kind that invites women to see your etchings? No, but should I?”
He makes an exaggerated, s.e.xy face.
”There's your warning ladies.” I roll my eyes, cross my arms, and walk toward the camera again. ”The man seems insatiable. But, lucky for us, the same can be said for his appet.i.te to create thought-provoking art. Check out Unspoken Truths to learn more about Maxfield Caswell and his work.”
I turn back toward him. ”Thanks, Max, for letting us into your very private studio.”
”You're welcome.” He smiles broadly as he picks up his paint brushes. ”Now, please tell these guys to leave so I can have my fortress of solitude back.”
”Fortress of solitude? What a grand name!”
”Hmm...why don't you stay behind and we can rename it.”
”I just might.” I turn and wink at the camera.
”Cut!”