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“But Rose,” he whinged. “They all look the same to me. And I really don’t care if you call that color chip greenery, fern, leaf bud, tropical frog, pond scum, or slime. All I see is lightish, brightish green.”
“But they aren’t the same. Subtle, yeah. But different. Some are warm, and some are cool. Look. I’ll show you.” Rose drew a perfect circle, and then lightly filled it blue. Over that, she layered yellow until it developed into green.
She picked up a second set of blue and yellow pencils and repeated the process.
“This circle is a warm green,” she tapped with her fingertip. “And this one is cool green.”
John stared at the colors, dodging his eyes back and forth. “Sorry. I don’t see it. Why do I need to know this again?”
“Because the assignment is due tomorrow, and your color wheels are rubbish.”
“They are not rubbish, Rose Tyler. They’re beautiful. And very, very creative.”
“They’re creative all right,” she muttered. “John, you’re gonna fail the assignment. You didn’t follow the instructions. At all. You mixed the cool pencils with the warm ones. You were supposed to create one warm color wheel, and one cool one.”
He grabbed Rose’s pencil folio and randomly pulled about a dozen pencils from their little elastic loops. He turned his back to Rose.
“I’ll prove to you that I know what I’m doing,” he said as he began to sketch.
“Okay,” she said, frowning.
With deft hands, he began to sketch. The only sounds in the empty, light-filled art room were the gentle whoosh-whoosh of perfectly sharpened, but not too sharp, colored pencils skimming across paper, and the occasional smudging sound of his thumb blending the layers of color.
Rose closed her eyes as she listened to the familiar and comforting sound of creativity and beauty coming to life on the Strathmore Drawing Medium Surface.
Fifteen minutes passed, and then the sounds stopped. John turned his chair around. He held the pad for a moment, and then turned it.
Rose drew in a long breath. “John. That’s… amazing. I’m… I don’t know what to say. I had no idea you were such a gifted artist.”
“It can’t always be about the science of color, Rose. Sometimes it’s about the colors you see.”
“Says the scientist,” she said. “Professor Smith hasn’t started to teach sketching yet. It’s all been color theory up until now. So how did you learn to draw?”
“I never learned, Rose. I’ve been drawing for years.” He rifled through his rucksack and pulled out a hardback notebook. “Open it.”
“What is this?” Rose open to the first page. “It looks like the Eye of Sauron.”
He grinned. “I didn’t take you for a lohter fan.”
“I watch it for Aragorn and Arwyn.” She flushed.
John raised an eyebrow. “Well, it’s not the evil all-seeing eye. It’s the Helix Nebula. I drew it from memory. It’s one of my favorites.” He winked. “Because it looks like the Eye of Sauron.”
She studied it for a moment and then her face lit up. “Okay. Maybe this will help you understand. This bit of red is cool. And over here, the red is warm. And here you used Scarlet Lake and Canary Yellow to make a cool orange. But this bit over here, I can tell you used Yellow Chartreuse and Raspberry, so it’s a warm orange.”
“Whatever you say.” He smiled “But how’d you know that?” he asked.
“I’m passionate about color.” Rose smiled. “And how’d you draw this from memory?”
“I’m passionate about space.” He flipped through a few pages and showed her another sketch.
“This is Saturn, yeah? It’s so perfect. Looks like a photograph.”
“Indeed it is. I didn’t do this one from memory, though. I referred to a photograph taken by Cassini.”
She laughed. “I don’t know what a Cassini is.”
“Oh, it’s brilliant! NASA launched the Cassini spacecraft on October 15 of 1997. Arrived at Saturn on June 30, 2004, and began orbit on July 1st. Been there ever since. Chugging away. Taking picture after picture and sending them back to little old Earth.”
“Gives new meaning to kids asking, ‘Are we there yet?’”
John laughed. “You know your planets?”
“I only know Saturn ‘cos of the rings, and Mars ‘cos it’s close. And Pluto.” She tucked a lock of hair behind her ear and looked over at a student’s partially-finished painting that was drying on an easel. “You could teach them to me. The planets. Maybe?”
He opened his mouth, but no words came out.
“Or not,” she blushed.
“I’d love to teach the artist some science.”
She looked up. “Yeah?”
“Yes,” he confirmed, looking her in the eye.
She thought for a moment. “You know John. I think I’ve turned art into a science, and you’ve turned science into an art.”
“Who says they can’t be both?”
She looked out the window at the leaves — warm and cool tones of burnished yellow, goldenrod, and a million other uncategorized hues and shades.
“John, the picture you drew just now. You weren’t looking at me. How’d you draw me so lifelike?”
He blushed. “I got so bored listening to all of that rubbish about warm and cool colors and mixing that I studied you instead.”
“Oh.” She chewed her lip.
“That isn’t nearly as creepy as it sounds.”
She smiled brightly. “So why are you in this class anyway? What are you studying?”
“I’m a doctoral candidate. Astronomy. A friend of mine told me that I’d benefit from a bit of creativity. Been nose to the grindstone for years now. Buried in numbers and theories and calculations. I already like to sketch. I figured, why not. But I’m not doing it for a grade.”
“No wonder you aren’t worried about the color wheel assignment.” Rose smirked.
“I’ll make you a deal. I’ll teach you about the planets, and you teach me about colors.”
“Okay.”
He waggled his eyebrows. “I could take you stargazing, explain the visible planets and stars, and you can tell me all about the subtleties of the colors of starlight?”
Rose laughed. “If that isn’t a pickup line, I don’t know what is.”
He winked. “What do you say? Teach me the science of art?”
“And you teach me the art of science.”