A Visitor to the Future - 68 - An Art Collection
The interior of Antonia's house was just as fragrant as the small zero-gravity wilderness she'd had on the Promise of Sol, though a lot more traditional scents were involved. I spotted - and smelled - tulips, lavender, and more than one basket of roses, which I wrinkled my nose at - I'd never been a fan of that particular smell. Though every now and again I'd spot an oddly-shaped flower that spiralled, or was flecked with a rainbow of different colours, which were all obviously Antonia's own work. As I pointed them out, she explained that those outside of sealed environments (like her greenhouses) were completely infertile, unable to spread beyond the specimens she had here. To Antonia, preserving the surrounding ecosystem was very important. She even had tiny drones that buzzed around, relocating insects that found their way into the main house area.
We came to a large hall which must have been fifty meters long. One side of the hall had comfortable two-seater sofas installed every ten metres. The other was a large, plain wall punctuated by pieces of artwork. A grandfather clock ticked away softly somewhere in the distance. Antonia gestured at the first piece of art, and we walked closer.
"As this is your first visit here, should I introduce you to some of my favourites?" asked Antonia, "Let's start here."
The first painting was a bright combination of light, colour, and warmth. The left side of the work depicted an open field filled with tall sunflowers and a low grassy area of wildflowers. On the right side of the painting was a shining lake which reflected the sight of picturesque blue sky and clouds above - looking up at the top half of the painting, the reflection was perfect. A small rowing boat was on the lake, adrift, with one oar hanging precariously over the side.
Antonia was happy to explain the background of the piece. "This is The Forgotten Rowboat, dated 2374," she narrated, "It is oil on canvas, painted by Miles Rollot in what he called his Constable period - that is, he was very inspired by the works of John Constable at that time. Rollot could be described as a an activist painter - he always included motifs and images that he thought were relevant to the present day, and dedicated most of his life to environmental activism. In this one, it is the rowboat itself - a beautiful field of flowers, a great display of nature, but no-one is there to appreciate it. There are a lot of people who think he painted this because of his frustrations with his work at the time - and there are recordings of him voicing those frustrations. There were times that he felt that no-one cared about nature any more. The wild flowers in this painting are so vibrant and realistic, which is why I like this one so much."
I wasn't much of an appreciator of art, so Antonia's narrative was appreciated. "Is this an original?" I asked, "Not that it really matters - it's beautiful."
Antonia shook her head, "Almost all my paintings are copies - but the recreation is so perfect it is very difficult to tell!"
"Fabrication techniques are very accurate," said Sarkona, "It is difficult to tell which works are genuine in general with the naked eye. You have to rely on carbon-dating the paint or similar."
We moved along, past a piece of a photorealistic painting of a girl in overalls stood on a swing, and a more modern-art swirl of colours which I thought would be dizzying to look at for too long.
The next piece was a harsh contrast to the ones before it. It was a dark piece occasionally highlighted by browns and grey-blues. It depicted a dirty alleyway lined with tarmac, with a bearded man huddled next to a garbage disposal unit of some kind. He looked cold, but his hands were not wrapped around himself - instead they were cupped in his lap, and a tiny wisp of green was visible sticking out between his fingers.
"This is the most glum painting I have here," said Antonia, "It's a Marie Barret, painted in 2542. She died very young - such a short career but so impactful upon the artistic world as a whole. I always find it amazing how she depicted such a drab scene using acrylics - paints typically used to make very bright and vibrant images, like Canyon or The Blooming in Winter."
"Does it have a title?" I asked.
"No, Barret never named her paintings. Her paintings only have numbers - this is number eight. Barret's works really focused on the low points of human history but I like this one because it has a note of hope to it."
The next painting was dominated by a sandy surface littered with small grey rocks. There was a faint reddish dust which covered most of the surface, hanging above it in a hazy way. Three identical CIs, covered in red dust, though very rudimentary looking, were clustered in a small group around a rock on top of which a disassembled CI leg was arranged. I looked closer, and could see that one of the CIs was missing the same leg, leaning on the rock slightly to balance. Two of the CIs appeared to be scratching their heads.
Antonia smiled at the image, "This one is called A Right Martian Problem, and is based on the walk that three CIs made from the bombarded Mars capital to a neighbouring settlement during the CI uprising - a distance of several hundred miles. It was painted by a CI called Proto about a decade afterwards, one of the first influential CI artists. According to Proto, it was this event through which they came to understand humour - they had barely been active for a week when this event occurred. The three of them were fifty miles from the wreck of the capital, had no tools, and one of them had fallen and caused irreparable damage to their leg. They had detached the leg and laid it out on the rock when they realized the absurdity of what they were trying to do. There was no hope of them fixing it out there, nor did they have the skills to do so - and they all found that funny, a sort of dark humour as a part of their very difficult task. In the end, they left the leg and carried the damaged CI the rest of the way - there's a small museum built around the leg now. There are a few projection interpretations of the actual walk, but I don't think any of them quite capture the same sense of humour as the original painting."