About time you showed up.
About time? I spent more than--
Mira -- this painting, right here. Look.
Are you ready to look at the painting?
Why?
Just look at it.
You brought me all the way down here to look at a painting?
Yes, but there's more. Just look at it.
About this morning...
Apology accepted, serita. It's a hot day, and tempers run high.
But I wasn't--
Just look at the painting.
<Look at the painting>
No, I have more important things to do.
No? Then we have nothing to talk about. Goodbye.
Goodbye?
Yes, goodbye to you too. Come back when you're ready.
No.
Then why waste my time and yours? Goodbye.
It's nice work.
Who's the artist?
It's very nice. But there's more to it than "nice". Keep looking.
A boy named Warren Hughes. Not so long ago, I knew him and his family quite well. But he doesn't paint anymore...
What am I looking for?
What do you see?
I see a guy hugging a girl.
They're probably boyfriend, girlfriend, and she's dumping him. He looks really depressed.
Yes, yes, forget the story -- what do you see?
I see an oil-painting of two humans locked in an embrace.
That's all you see? But there's so much more. Look. Look!
I see a statement on loss.
The guy, he's hugging a girl, and by all rights, he should be happy. But he's not. He's probably already mourning the loss of her, even though that's still somewhere in his future.
Statements! Who cares about statements? Tell me what you see!
I see art.
Art, yes. And beyond that? Beyond art?
And?
Truth?
Truth, exactly! A deeper truth. This painting, this particular work of art, speaks a deeper truth. It has a soul.
Illusion?
Skill and imagination allow the artist to create an illusion, but that is only skin deep. Beneath the illusion, what else is there?
Technique?
Technique is what enables an artist to create art. Beyond technique, beyond artistry, what else is there?
It has a soul because it has an identity, it has a heart. The memory of this painting will survive beyond this moment, it will linger in your mind, become part of the tapestry of your subconscious.
It has made a lasting impression on you, and you're not quite sure why.
It's just a painting by some kid. It's not as if it's a Picasso, or a Monet.
Now you're arguing technique. Not every painting by Van Gogh or Michelangelo is real art either, although they all demonstrate great technique and craftsmanship.
And the scribbled drawings of a five-year old child are rarely technically impressive, but they may still have a soul, they may still be real art.
So you're saying "real art" is not defined by the skill of the artist? Then what is art, if just anybody can create something more "real" than artists who've spent their entire lives developing their skills?
Art is still the work of artists. And skill, craftsmanship, technique -- those things are critical to the success of an artist's work. But alone, those things are merely pretense.
For something to be real, to be truthful, the artist must transfer -- shift -- part of him or her self into the work, to transcend the illusion and reach for the truth of art.
And what is the "truth of art"?
Who knows? I've been asking myself that question for years.
Excuse me? You don't even know? Then what's all this about, all the questions and lectures on "truth" and "illusion"? For that matter, why did you ask me to come down here in the first place?
Actually, you didn't even ask me to come down!
Because--
How can a painting have a soul?
I spent my entire afternoon travelling all over Venice, deciphering a cryptic message, spending money I don't have on a subway ticket, only to have to stand here and listen to...to...
You saw something this afternoon. A waking dream. And you can't explain it. That's why you're here, isn't it?
Yeah.
How the hell do you know these things?
Didn't I tell you to stay out of my personal life?
Yes. Yes, you did. But I chose not to listen.
It's plain as the day, serita Ryan. You're under a lot of stress.
Good. And I'll do my best to explain everything. Just be patient.
My point about art and truth is this, April. Some things look real, but are not. And other things may appear to be of no consequence at all, but are, in fact, invaluable. Like Warren's painting here. And your dreams.
There is both truth and illusion in dreams, and in the images they create. The problem is in sorting the one from the other.
You're telling me my dreams are true?
I'm telling you there are things afoot, and that you need help in sorting the truth from the illusions. My help.
Well, that figures.
Good. I was hoping you'd understand.
No, actually I didn't understand a single word. You talk about art, and truth, and dreams, and illusion, and I still don't understand what it all has to do with me.
There are things happening, yes, and I came here because I thought -- maybe you're crazy enough to believe me, to help me...I don't know...sort through the debris and come up with a plausible explanation?
But no, you tell me my dreams might be true, that I need your help, and that there are things "afoot". I mean, who says "afoot"? I've never heard anybody use that word before. "There are things afoot"?
Esta bien... I understand your reluctance to believe me, serita. But I cannot convince you here, now. Meet me tomorrow.
What?
Meet me tomorrow, and I will tell you...everything.
Not again, no way.
But you will. Because you are compelled to do so by your own curiosity. Because you are drawn to mystery. And because, despite your scepticism, you believe I have the answer to all your questions. Yes?
No. No, I don't care. I just want to have a normal life, no nightmares, no fucking visions, and no strangers telling me that "things are afoot". Comprende, amigo?
Ay Dios mio, is that the time? I've got to run, serita Ryan. I see you tomorrow then?
I said--
Goodbye.
