Work Text:
That morning, Alan took his pencils and went to the museum. People often draw at the museum. He knew this museum by heart, he had been there a million times. New paintings have been bought recently, German paintings, and one of them attracted his attention. It was rather historical and dramatic, in a romantic style, dark, lit by a light like that of the baroque French painter George de la Tour. Two men were intertwined. A young, brown and frail man was there, lying as in a pietà, in the arms of another man. That one was tall, muscular, blond, with a broken but calm look, a silent despair. The young recumbent appears as if asleep in the arms of the older man.
And Alan remained there, as if caught by the painting, fascinated by the face of the blond, as if he had known this face forever, like an indelible mark in his heart. Like a stolen lover, as if this man could also hug him. He was unable to draw. He remained frozen, contemplating him.
A young guide stopped next to him
“Can I help you?” she asked.
- What is this painting?
- It is a new acquisition from a German painter, Sascha Nachtnebel. He spent years painting his friends. Here, he recounts the death of two of his friends in February 1889. In reality, the two men were lovers, but were never arrested by the English police. One Irish, the other Scottish. We don’t really know what they were doing in England. But the young Irishman was of frail health, and he inevitably fell ill, but nothing tells us what, maybe something like tuberculosis. In any case, his lover gave body and soul to save him, but in vain. But nevertheless, he did not die of his illness but of an accident. Not longer after, his lover took his own life. Before this incident, the artist was actually a photographer, with sometimes more morbid tendencies than the French painter Géricault. But afterwards, he started to learn painting, to recreate a reality that no longer exists.
- And the artist, do you know him?
- In reality, we know almost nothing about him, there isn’t even a picture or portrait of him, just a name in the History”
The silence fell back in the room. A man approached them, tall, muscular, blond, with a motorcycle jacket. He looks identical to the man in the painting. And Alan’s heart skipped a beat. He was only 22 years old, and knew since he was 15 that he was gay, but didn’t want to admit it to himself . But there, it was different, it’s as if he had always known him, always loved him, without ever having met him.
" Hey, look kid, it look like you in the painting, exclaimed the man
- Uh... yes, it looks a little bit like me... he replies shyly
- A little bit ? You are his spitting image!
- Uh ..... I...
- Haha, don’t worry there’s no problem. Tell me, are you an artist? You carry quite a lot of stuff
- I... I draw a little bit when I have time.... But I am a florist.
- That’s great
- It’s magnificent! exclaimed the young guide, you are both the spitting image of the two lovers! Do you know each other?
- Absolutely not, but I would like to, replied the tall blond. Besides, he said while looking at Alan, my name is Eric, Eric Slingby, mechanic and singer in my spare time.
- Alan, Alan Humphries.
- Nice to meet you.
They talked during the entire exhibition, about everything and nothing. In the end, they left the museum and Eric accompanied his new friend.
From the top of a tree, hidden in the foliage, Sascha watches, camera in hand, still Ludger on his heels.
« Ludger ! Komm und sieh, sie sind zurück ! ( Ludger ! come and look, they are back! )