My chair broke. Could anything else possibly go wrong tonight? Well, yes…I still had a critique to suffer through. So, after the good professor made sure I was okay, and the students actually didn’t fall down laughing at me, it was time to begin the critique. My biggest worry wasn’t that somebody would hate the use of light and shadow. It wasn’t even that the pop of color in the black and white drawing would be perceived as off putting. My biggest worry was that somebody might notice who my masked angel was.
Our assignment was to draw the human body, but for me…well, I drew my inspiration from a certain male body. I hadn’t seen his body naked or anything, not like he mostly was in my drawing, but I had seen him in those nice fitted shirts he wore and I knew he was solid. I improvised, drawing the body I imagined beneath the clothes and then…well, the face had to be changed slightly, but every time I put pencil to paper somehow his face kept looking back at me. I gave him a mask, and I hoped nobody would notice that beneath that red slip of cloth across his eyes that my masked angel was really one of us.
Professor Taylor’s fingers caught hold of the corner of my sketch pad cover and as he prepared to show the world…um…class…my work, I felt my stomach nearly drop out my body with anticipation so heavy I could barely breathe. He lifted the cover and…
- He smiled in recognition
- All critics were oblivious to the masked angels identity.