Specimens

As Miles recalled, the first time he saw Edward was while walking along a stretch of posh stores and upscale bakeries in that well-known getaway town/enclave whose name I can't recall....he was decked out in brightly clashing shirt and pants with his beautiful mother and handsome brother in tow or should I say he was giving his beautiful mother and handsome brother (so perfectly in-sync color-wise) some competition with his own attention-grabbing wardrobe... that cap and scarf of his for example...the high-end sneakers.. etc. Well, it seems that Miles and Edward struck up some random conversation about one of the store-front mannequins, and were both commenting on the sad posture of the torsos in relation to one another - the first with clashing plaid and stripes, the other with the tight dress shirt so poorly draped over it and a hideously oversized tie drooping down over the pants, the absurd backdrop of palm trees and parrots or some such nonsense, which led to first a fit of laughter and secondly a wildly spontaneous, yet erudite discussion of Art and the rudiments of good composition...an extended tete-a-tete dragging on for some 20 minutes while Edward's mother and brother disappeared to buy sunglasses (almost as if to match Edward's own inimitable pair, one might be tempted to say);  and Miles pulled out his red notebook and proceeded to show Edward some of his etchings (so cliche I know but oh so spontaneous); it was all going quite swimmingly when Edward said out of the blue for all to hear hey, then there,  my good fellow, my goodly young artist, you are so uhm, just so.... refreshing-delectable! (he always said that)  not like the other bores and poseurs and tedious freaks we meet in these parts...oh can we take him home with us Mums, just for a tour of the grounds...I have no one new to talk with about...you know...my new favs, Bonnard, and Matisse...those champions of color ...oh can we Mums, can we? He is obviously the real McCoy - let me show him your statues...those prints of you on the beach... while his mother, all smiles, treating it half-seriously at first, looked the frumpy-if-half-amusing stranger up and down, and smiled because her son was smiling, thinking to herself, well he doesn't seem to know who we are (what's up with that?) but oh well, I guess...you can show him the garden sculptures for starters...Oh the sculptures, the sculptures, my Mums is always bragging about her precious feminine "forms" you see they were made FOR her they're based ON her form...ha..ha.ha....No - my dears I have some special paintings in mind to show our young artist. You have such an exquisite sensibility about you...I would guess an artist or a writer. ...You DO call yourself an artist don't you? Miles smiled self-consciously and looked around to see if anyone were trying to have him arrested. A researcher, he said calmly. Oh don't call yourself a researcher - how drab. Now I'm tempted to cancel the whole thing! Ha, ha, ha. Well, Miles had to explain, yes an artist, sure... but also an investigator, a collector of forms if you will.  I am looking for SPECIMENS, he explained inscrutably. You might say - AESTHETIC SPECIMENS.  Each type take together forms a mosaic that is necessary to finish the puzzle, for lack of a better metaphor... Edward was of course momentarily thrilled, entranced, intrigued but after the conversation ends, strangely enough, he had forgotten all about the use of the word SPECIMEN - never suspecting that what such a term may have connoted....Well, the before the sun had even moved an inch in the sky, the two aesthetes were sitting down to a catered lunch outdoors near the pool back at Edward's place - back at "the rolling estate" as they called it - with Miles scarfing down a specially-prepared tuna salad sandwich on whole wheat with endive lettuce and freshly-fried potato chips and Edward sipping expresso and picking away - like a little bird - on a mediterranean platter with all the fixings (dolma, tzadziki, hummus, fresh pita, etc.) Miles found himself staring off at the ocean across the vast expanses of lawn and garden and landscaped hills - noticing, cherishing the absolute sense of privacy that the property afforded - as if an entire morsel of coastline had been cordoned off to help form one large edifice of art. He was suddenly drowsy and dreamy - his face mesmerized by a rush of sensations - mostly centered on the garden labyrinthine path that housed an amazing collection of sculptures - feminine forms all somehow - according to Edward - inspired by the same woman.  I don't mean to rush lunch, so to speak, but may I sample those statues you had mentioned before? Oh - my dear - what a polite relic you are. May I this, and shall I that? and please sir, just a few more chips? Ha, ha, ha. I was hoping to give you the tour myself - but I fear I may disturb your private reveries. Now don't you go developing any crushes - mind you! Ha, ha. ha. I will leave you sir to these - your investigations, but after a given modicum of time, we must discuss. There is much more to show you...You are not averse to painting I hope - or to sketches....Oh - no, no, no! It's just....there is something about your description of this collection that caught my attention - that's all. The fact that they all refer to my Mums - is that it? Well what can I say? She's the lady who launched a thousand ships as we say. Ha, ha, ha. Don't imagine for a second that SHE'S the ONLY one in our family who has ever inspired an artist. No my dear...you will discover....if you look hard enough...that I too have become muse to an artist or two...There is no doubt in my mind...But Miles, at this point, giving in to his absent-minded preoccupations, was already rising out of his seat, literally being pulled in the direction of the garden and the sculptures....

*

And so it happened (the next morning, in fact) that young Edward, who had been sauntering across the grounds of the estate with his typical side-to-side hither and thither glances, draped in silken robe and slippers preparing for a "dip" in the heated pool near the garden before breakfast, carelessly grasping his foamy expresso, waiting for Kyra and Kay - his de facto courtiers - to catch up with him,  barking orders at Roger, the still-absent, but officially hired household servant, waiting for his audience to go on about what a "mess" the art show had been last night,  a complete "waste" of time really, and how "beastly" rude certain otherwise attractive fellows had been, as usual, oh yes, my dear, and the pieces so "tired,  pompous, derivative, predictable" - enough to make a person want to scream, want to scribble all over the canvas, and besides you can't find reliable curators these days who want to soil the arena with their plebeian interests, not to mention those "imbeciles" who pass for caterers (does anyone know what it means to throw a good party?) ...but oh well at least Theodore was there, that incomparably "exquisite" artist/demi-god, who was gracious and perfect as usual and who not only smiled at everyone, but greeted them warmly, regaling them with "amazing" anecdotes and really very edifying "little lessons" on Matisse and Bonnard... this same Edward, the privileged, aesthete and sensitive connoisseur of all things beautiful, was startled to find a rather drab, frumpy, long-haired, middle-aged diminutive figure in a wrinkled suit, hopping nimbly along the garden path (more to avoid injury on the uneven stones than anything else),  approaching in a sort of rodent-like manner with jerky leaps and bounds. At first Edward thought he was having another of his bizarre hallucinations such as had afflicted him more of late due to a change in the medication he had begun to control his high-strung moods, but now the figure was coming into focus and with him another, slower, equally frumpy companion, a woman perhaps with short hair and apparently some kind of business suit, the pair of whom offended Edward by their apparent mockery of formal attire. These ridiculous functionaries were oddly corporate, dronish, like cubicle-dwellers,  therefore staid and stoical enough to rule them out as stalkers or out-and-out crazies.  As goes without saying, Edward was not amused and proceeded to ignore the strangers for as long as possible, until they had sidled up beside the others, pretending to listen to his ongoing narrative, without any sense of being interlopers on someone's private property - without appointment, without portfolio.  The reptile in the wrinkled business suit seemed to be fiddling with a shiny, golden business card; the woman had a tablet and pen and was busily taking notes.  Finally Edward began staring them down. This produced an awkward smile from the scaly gentleman and no response whatsoever from the short-haired woman. Well. Well. Well. "A pleasure, sir. You must be Edward." "Enchanted.... and you all?" "I apologize ...your mother made this appointment on our behalf." "Ah. You want to see my mother...That can be arranged....Darling Mums! They're here for you...those people." "Oh - well - actually - sir we're quite happy to make your acquaintance. It's you we have come to see about our "project." "Projects, projects. How do they involve me? Landscaping projects, gardening projects, flower arrangements, pool cleanings...What is it this time?" "None of the above, sir. we're working on a project for the archive..." "Ah. You're with an archive? And you need my cooperation? You mean money - of course." "No sir. Well - we're here to begin our studies..." "Oh my...well... look here my dears. I'm getting a little creeped out by this already. I have no idea what this archive project of your is all about -" "I assure you sir, this has all been approved ahead of time." "By whom?" "By your amazing mother, sir. You see...we are here to perform certain investigations - all for the sake of a good cause." "Charities. Charities. I should have known. What are you then - artists?" "Well you might say so - I like to think of it as our work - our investigations..." "And how am I involved in all of this? Well - we'd be studying you in part? Studying me?  Just what I need during this fragile phase of life." "What - are you making a documentary of my life or something?" "If you like, you can think of it as that... You make a fine specimen...." "A specimen - huh? A fine specimen of what per se?" "We are here to find out about you - how you came to be yourself. You're not delving into my -----" "Your  ------- ?" "My ----------------- how shall I say _________" "Your preferences, sir?" "Yes. That's a good way of saying it."
"Well - everything's on the table for us. We take a holistic approach. I assure you, with your complexity of character, you make an outstanding specimen."

Later - after the strange frumpy man had left, a woman appeared from the garden wearing a robe and slippers similar to Edward's and strode on elegantly toward the pool.  Morris and Bea - as usual - were somewhat dumbstruck by her presence, by her sheer physical beauty and statuesque posture, her elegant dark hair and porcelain skin, the full almond-shaped eyes, the high cheekbones and the serious ethereal stare, the long legs so typical of a fashion model. When Edward saw her he nearly screamed:

"Darling - oh darling why? Why do you send these strange creatures to torment me?"

The woman laughingly replied: "Darling? What creatures, darling?"

"You know darling - those awful frumpy people and their nefarious research. ... something about I'm a worthy specimen....darling....what is the meaning of all this?"

"Oh darling - I knew you'd be surprised..."

"Surprised? Darling - Why not just hire a stalker? Why not just lure some riff-raff off the beach to come follow me around all day...Darling I won't. I can't. I will not submit myself to this crazy intrusion on my privacy...This crazy scheme of yours, darling, whatever it is....  I'm too busy for starters and-"

"Oh Darling - it's for a good cause. And you'd be perfect."

"For a good cause - darling...yes that awful man said I'm a perfect specimen!"

"Yes he likes that word, I know. It's all very scientific..."

"I don't care about science mother. And neither should you. We have given our souls to ART..."

"They are artists - darling. Think of them as starving artists. They have a strange art to be sure - a blend of art and science and anthropology as they like to say - for their archive project."

"What is this blasted archive mother? Who are these pod-people???"

"My dear...they are meticulous collectors. They go about looking, researching, acquiring..."

"They are intrusive pod-people - scaring away all the fun..."