Wednesday, May 29, 2013

The Sicilian Artist Follows His Dream-A Short Story

By Miriam B. Medina

It is a clear day, a glorious, sunny day, with a calm sea and a light breeze. Vincenzo Bonifazi looks out of his window and smiles. "Perfetto." Today will be an exceptionally good day to sell his paintings. The weather was in his favor. He had been painting feverishly all week in his studio until the wee hours of the morning, preparing for his new exhibit. When he awoke, emotions escaped his brush, filling the canvas with the inner depths of his soul. He painted, stroke after stroke, with vivid colors, leaving impressions quite pretty, yet bold. His women with huge breasts and large butts seemed to consume him, and were in demand.. Something about this particular day gave him a" feel good" mentality. Vincenzo whistled as he packed his belongings, folding chairs and paintings into his specially designed Sicilian cart. He decided to head for the beach. There was something about the sea that inspired and brought out the best in him. He knocked on the door of his best friend, Rosario, and asked him to accompany him, so he could take a break every so often while Rosario watched his paintings.

Vincenzo greeted his friend:

"Buongiorno Rosario, sembra che sta andando essere un buon giorno per le vendite. Forse avremo un altro giorno come la settimana scorsa."

(Good morning Rosario, looks like it's going to be a good day for sales. Maybe we'll have another day like we had last week.)

Rosario smiles, helping Vincenzo with the cart.

"Spero di si," Rosario responded.

(I hope so.)

Rosario invited Vincenzo to sit down and have their usual espresso that Stefania, Rosario's wife, prepared for them, along with something tasty to eat. Rosario and Vincenzo had been best friends since childhood. They lived in the same neighborhood, two houses away from each other. Rosario's father, Salvatore Bellini, was a well-known artist in Taormina. Since Vincenzo and Rosario's mothers were neighbors, as well as friends, he was able to visit Rosario's home often. Salvatore liked Vincenzo's interest in his paintings. He had a good feeling about this young boy with the big eyes.. He sensed a passion for art stirring in him. Salvatore would give Vincenzo some paint brushes and paper to see what he could create. When he finished, Salvatore was in awe. This child had the makings of a great artist. He had excelled at drawing and had such an understanding of color at such a young age. He was gifted. Salvatore saw himself in this young child.
He told Vincenzo's mother that he would like to tutor him, sharing everything he knew about design, forms and color. Paola was so proud of her son. She agreed to this without telling her husband. Thus, Vincenzo began his artistic apprenticeship with Bellini at a very young age.

Spurred on by his enthusiasm, Vincenzo tried to find the perfect spot to exhibit his work, just off of the beach, yet close to the water.

After walking a distance with the cart, they stopped. Vincenzo couldn't resist going to the edge of the water to wet his feet and look at the sea. Rosario stayed behind setting up the exhibit. Vincenzo stood still, feeling the warmth of the late morning sun on his face. The sea breeze ruffled his curly brown hair as he deeply inhaled the salt air, tasting the spray from the waves. It was invigorating. His feet sunk into the sand as the waves overlapped each other, rushing, splashing and roaring against his legs,, dragging the sand between his feet. He looked about him and was surprised and disappointed that the beach was not crowded. There were only a few tourists splashing in the waves. His self-confidence began to sink. He had been so sure it was going to be a lucky day for him. He scratched his head and mumbled:

"Dove sono tutte le persone. Questo posto è sempre pieno."

(Where are all the people? This place is always packed.)

Taormina has been a top holiday coastal resort on the Italian island of Sicily since the early 19th century. It has also been Vincenzo's hometown since he was born.

Ever since he was a child, Vincenzo loved to come to the beach with his mother. He would often play in the sand, building sandcastles.Vincenzo was a gifted child who had the ability to build impressive sculptures out of sand. His father, Lorenzo, was a simple fisherman who worked hard to feed his family. His clothing reeked of fish. Even when he came home, the kitchen and bathroom smelled of fish. Wherever he walked or sat, the fish scales would trail behind him. Vincenzo hated that smell, though he loved to eat fish, especially the way his mother Paola would prepare it.

"Mmmmmmm... delizioso," he would say to his mother, giving her a big hug. He was an only son. His mother Paola adored him. She had a difficult delivery when he was born. After Vincenzo, Paola couldn't have anymore children. Paola loved her son and was always fussing over him. Lorenzo resented Paola for giving him so much attention. Vincenzo was expected to follow in his father's footsteps. Vincenzo was to get married and raise his family as a fisherman, as many generations had done before him.. But Vincenzo had other ideas, which did not include being a struggling fisherman with a pile of snot-nosed kids.

"Non io, non sarò mai un pescatore. Diventerò un artista famoso e fare un sacco di soldi!"

(Not me, I will never be a fisherman. I will become a famous artist and make lots of money.)

Ever since Vincenzo was a child, he was mesmerized by the curvy, voluptuous women he saw on the beach, the ones who poured themselves into a bikini.. Apparently, these women had no qualms about exhibiting their god-given bodies. Even at age 40, Vincenzo would remember vividly his first sexual experiences from adolescence, as he enjoyed the pleasures of the flesh with a voluptuous woman. He was a willing teenager, 17 years old, and she was a cougar on the prowl at age 40. Rosa was a widow whose body craved a man's sexual touch. Rosa saw Vincenzo on the beach and liked his physique, so she flirted with him. His muscular build and good looks made him look older than his age, and he had a hard time keeping his eyes off of her curvy, voluptuous body. The more she flirted with him, the more aroused he became. As her final act of seduction, Rosa invited him to come to her house. He accepted her invitation. Vincenzo knew she was much older than him, but it didn't matter, all he knew was that she was a hot cougar that drove him wild, with her steamy passionate flirtation and sex appeal. He longed to become a great carnal pupil in her hands. Vincenzo hungered for the moment he could share a bed with Rosa. He was glad that she suggested he come to her house, so he wouldn't have to find a way to safely get her alone. He would tell his parents he was going to Rosario's house. When he knocked on Rosa's door, she opened it, dressed in a see through negligee. Vincenzo couldn't wait anymore. He relaxed and enjoyed himself immensely, learning as he went along. They were both convinced they wanted more time with each other, but as they say, all good things come to an end.
Remembering Rosa, Vincenzo's cheeks flushed as he became visibly aroused while savoring the memory of their last desperate sexual encounter. Even after 23 years, she still had a lingering effect on him. So Vincenzo realized that all good things don't have to end, they just evolve, and fade into memory, where they are safe and forever available to be visited. Rosa would never die, not as long as Vincenzo and his paintings lived.
Vincenzo was happy with his current mistress, who reminded him of Rosa. He had never married. He wanted to be free to paint, without worrying about supporting a family.Life was good.

It was starting to get very hot. Vincenzo was worried about his paintings. Luckily he had a tarp on hand to cover his exhibit. Rosario was getting hungry and wanted to go home. Vincenzo, desperately waiting for a sale, yelled out.

"Rosario, aspetta, aspetta, non andare. Rimani altri 15 minuti e cominceremo imballaggio. Ti pagherò in più."

(Rosario, wait, wait, don't leave. Stay another 15 minutes and we'll start packing. I'll pay you 

Suddenly a man approached Vincenzo and handed him his card. He was a dealer from a famous art gallery in Manhattan, New York. He was fascinated by Vincenzo's paintings, the endless playgrounds filled with curvy, voluptuous women. He liked Vincenzo's style, it was quite unique, something he had never seen before. It was seductive and humorous. He told Vincenzo that he wanted to show his paintings in his art gallery. Vincenzo only knew a few phrases in English, which he was embarrassed to pronounce, so he asked his friend Rosario for help. Rosario was a University graduate and spoke English fluently, so he became the go-between for Vincenzo and the Art Dealer. Vincenzo could not believe his ears. Finally, his dream to go to America and become a famous artist was coming true. Vincenzo joyfully hugged his friend Rosario, thanking him for his help, saying:

"Lo sapevo, lo sapevo."

(I knew it, I knew it.)

He kissed the business card and began to whistle as they packed up the beach exhibit and headed home.
Vincenzo's face was beaming as he turned to his friend, and said:

"Sì, è stata una bella giornata al mare. Non pensi così Rosario?"

(Yes indeed, it was a beautiful day by the sea. Don't you think so Rosario?)

Rosario happily responded:

"Hai ragione Vincenzo, finalmente dopo tutti questi anni di duro lavoro, il tuo sogno si è avverato."

(You are right, Vincenzo, finally, after so many years of hard work, your dream has come true.)

Please leave your comments, I would like to hear what you have to say.

Wednesday, May 22, 2013

Artwork of Aurelio Perniche "Aurè"

 "Every artist dips his brush in his own soul, and paints his own nature into his pictures...". -Henry Ward Beecher  

Here is the inspiration for my story about a great Italian artist.  "The Sicilian Artist Follows His Dream ," One look says it all!



I have been granted permission by the artist himself  to display these paintings.

Saturday, May 18, 2013

The Shirley Temple Con Man-A short story

By Miriam B. Medina

We all know the perfect Brat, the one that wraps the world around his or her finger at an early age with the flip of a curl, the batting of eyelashes or the perfectly timed hug. Some kids are better con artists than millionaire pyramid scam operators. This is a story about just such a child, the apple of her Mother's eye, and the bane of her Mother's existence.
Margaret looked at the clock desperately hoping for some good news. The clock mocked her with its blinking red digital numbers:
7:45... 7:45... 7:45... 7:45...
It was quarter of eight in the morning and Margaret was officially running late. She still had to get Sara, her four-year old, dressed before dropping her off at the Babysitter's. Margaret was already in a foul mood, and the day was just starting. She had been up all night with bad menstrual cramps. It was the worst she ever endured. She was still pissed off at Jim, her ex-husband, who refused to give her more money for Sara's ballet lessons, and he was late on his alimony check anyway. She knew it was going to be another one of those F $@#&* days.
Margaret doubled over with the nagging pains that spread throughout her belly and down her lower back."Oh my God," she cried, as the pain was unbearable, "where are my Mydols?" She searched her drawers and the medicine chest. "Ah there it is." I need a smoke. Damn, I'm out of cigarettes."
"Sara?... will you hurry up!" Margaret screamed. "Mommy is going to be late. Don't forget to wear that new red blouse I bought you yesterday."
"I don't like it." Sara, half crying, yelled back.
"I thought Red was your favorite color?" Margaret responded. Sara started to throw a hissy fit and refused to dress.
"Fine, then wear the pink one with those cute little hearts on it, you like pink, right?"
Margaret put her hands to her head as she sat at the table muttering to herself. "I don't believe this, it's already 8:00 am and I'm still here. I need a smoke real bad." she fumed, realizing she didn't have any smokes.
Sara started to throw another hissy fit. Margaret couldn't stand it anymore and began cursing under her breath. She was in no mood for this, even though the menstrual pain was subsiding a bit. She looked at her adorable daughter, with her Shirley Temple style curly hair, dimpled cheeks, and wondered where she went wrong?
"Now what's the matter, Sara.?" she asked as she heard her daughter whining.
" I don't want to go to Mrs. Brown, she's so boring," Sara screamed. "I don't like her. Why can't I come with you?"
"I explained this to you yesterday, honey, Mommy has to go to work and will be home later today when she's done." she responded.
Margaret was glad that she had Mrs. Brown. She had scored with Mrs. Brown because she was much cheaper than the daycare service. She had to cut corners some how in order to make the payments on her Mercedes-Benz. Mrs. Brown, a widow, was babysitting other children as well. Margaret thought Mrs. Brown seemed like a sweet lady with a lot of patience, especially when dealing with Sara. Yet Margaret was annoyed with Mrs. Brown's remark that Sara didn't play well with the other kids. "I think your daughter needs to improve her social skills." Mrs. Brown had told Margaret.
"She is acting very aggressively with the toys, taking them away from the other children, saying they are hers. She even pushed one of the other kids, and then banged a toy on the floor until it broke." Margaret bit her tongue, not wanting to make waves. She excused Sara's behavior, mentioning to Mrs. Brown that Sara was an only child from a broken home who found it hard to interact with other children. She promised Mrs. Brown that, with time, Sara would get better.
Margaret kept staring at the clock as Sarah continued whining and throwing hissy fits. Margaret was at her wits' end, she had to be on time for a meeting with a new client. This meeting could mean an important contract with a big bonus in it for her, plus a VP position if she could pull it off. She turned to Sarah and said. "If you hurry up and get dressed, Mommy will buy you that pretty doll that you like so much."
Sara immediately shut up and smiled, replying in her sweet "I'm-getting-something' little voice, "Mommy can you get me a new carriage too? I don't like the one she has now. It's ugly."
At this point Margaret would agree to anything just to shut Sara up and get her moving.
"Yes, Sara, your birthday is coming up next week and I will get it for you then." Sara started to whine again, jumping up and down because she didn't get her way right away. Margaret's patience was shot, so she said, "Okay, when I come home tonight you'll have your pretty doll and carriage too."
"Promise?" Sara asked.
"Yes, sweetie, I promise."
Sara hugged her mother and gave her a kiss. "Thank you Mommy, you're the best Mommy anyone can have." Margaret put the cell phone to her ear, relieved, and hugged her daughter back.
Sara, sitting quietly in the car, looked at her Mom and smiled, saying to herself, 'It worked.'
If you would like to read more articles like this or on a wide range of topics please visit: Miriam B. Medina loves to write and at length too. So I suggest you find yourself a comfortable chair, and while you are at it, grab a steaming hot cup of coffee and a bagel with cream cheese and you will be all set to settle down for a while. Happy reading.
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