Chapter 2: Painting with the Soul
Sophia had seen this professor before. Victor Vasilyevich Rud was an older, short man with a sizable belly and small but lively, kind eyes. He wore a wig, though it was a slightly different shade now compared to the first time Sophie had met him.
Victor Vasilyevich had been the head of the admissions committee for the creative entrance exam. The task for all the applicants was straightforward: paint a picture from the perspective they were given. It was a standard art school assignment. On the table sat an uninspiring still life setup—a pitcher, some fruit, nothing special.
The applicants immediately started bustling around, jockeying for what they thought was the best spot, but Sophie didn’t rush to claim the so-called prime position. From her angle, she had a different view. The exam room was connected to a smaller adjacent room, the two spaces linked like train cars. The door to the smaller room was open, and on a table there stood a vase of flowers—her favorite, bluebells.
The applicants got to work on their masterpieces. Well, “masterpieces” might be a stretch. Some were clearly fans of cubism, trying to salvage their messy strokes with odd shapes and loud colors.
Sophie observed everyone from her advantageous spot. For one, she was happy with the angle she was painting from. For another, the air conditioner was aimed right at her, offering some relief on this sweltering day. And third, she could easily see the progress of almost everyone else’s work. It couldn’t help but lift her spirits, and at times, it reminded her of her community college instructor who’d look at such “masterpieces” and say, “Kid, it’s one of two things: either you need to work hard and develop your art and taste, or you need to find a rich sugar daddy who’ll buy all this scribbling and haul it off to the woods where no one can see it.”
Sophia painted with inspiration, smiling to herself, and didn’t notice the short man in the wig—now slightly askew as he wiped sweat from his brow—approach her.
“Very creative, very creative,” the professor remarked. “But why aren’t you painting the same thing as everyone else?” he asked, eyeing her canvas from different angles.
“The assignment was to paint from my perspective. My options were limited: either paint people’s backs or this,” Sophie replied, gesturing to her painting with her brush.
“And if I close the door?” the man asked, a mischievous glint in his eyes.
“Hmm…” Sophie paused for a few seconds, casting a careful glance at the bluebells in the vase before answering, “Go ahead and close it. I’ll finish from memory.”
“Alright then. What’s your last name?” the man inquired.
“Pearl. Sophia Pearl,” the girl answered.
“I’ll remember a little pearl like you,” he said, his eyes smiling. “Oh, pardon me, I mean Pearl. Sophia Pearl,” the professor corrected himself before heading back to his desk, jotting something down in his papers and taking another long look in Sophie’s direction.
When the creative exam concluded, the applicants signed their works and submitted them for expert evaluation. The results were to be announced the following day. But Sophie was confident she’d score highly, especially since that same man, Victor Vasilyevich, approached her later.
“Sophia, would you mind if we included your painting in an exhibition of our students’ works?”
“But I’m not your student yet,” Sophia pointed out.
“That’s just a technicality. So, may we?” he asked again.
“Yes, I’d be thrilled to see my painting among the others,” she replied with a smile.
“By the way, Igor Andreevich warned me about you. Now I understand why he insisted I keep an eye out for you.”
“Thank you, I’m flattered. I hope I’ve lived up to Igor Andreevich’s opinion of me. I deeply respect and value his perspective. He’s not only a talented professor and a creative mind but also a person with strong life values. I was lucky to have him as my thesis advisor in community college.”
“It’s always nice to hear such feedback about colleagues from talented students. Well, Sophia Pearl, we’ll be expecting you in September. But just so you know, I’ll be three times stricter with you in my classes.”