By
Per Jespersen
One noon Mark and
Deena were on their way to Dolphia. They had not heard from her a whole a week,
so they were a little worried. Something could have happened, but on the other
hand: you never knew with Dolphia. If she was painting heavily she forgot about
time and every person she knew. She even forgot to buy food, so when she
finally could not bear the brushes anymore she was forced to go to town to buy
some food.
“Let’s invite her
to the burger bar at the corner,” Mark said.
“I suggest that
we check her first,” Deena answered. “There could be something wrong. She could
be ill.”
“I’ve never seen
Dolphia ill,” Mark said.
“But I have. You
were not here for a week, and Dolphia was terribly ill.”
“Of course – she
missed me!”
“No, she didn’t.
She began thinking about a lover she had had a century ago.”
“Yes, I know. He
was Jewish.”
“That was not the
problem, but the fact that he left her because of her paintings.”
“And?”
“The paintings
are her soul. Her heart. Her everything. So when he left her because of her
paintings, it’s so serious that she’ll never forget it.”
They got closer
to her house. The curtains were down as if nobody lived there at all, and outside
her door there were lots of bags with bread and Danish, so she had not been
outside for a week.
They went up to
the door and listened. The only thing they could hear was a silent weeping, so
they knocked the door and rang the bell.
Nothing happened
but for a growing weeping, so Deena took the key to the flat and opened the
door.
Total silence.
As if there was
nobody there.
“Is she dead,”
Mark whispered.
“No -- a person like Dolphia cannot die. Artists do
not die, they live forever.”
“I have heard
that van Gogh is dead,” Mark laughed.
“No joking here,
Mark. We’ll take a look in the flat.”
They went into
her room and found paint in all colours, unclean brushes and a painting only
half finished.
“There’s
something wrong here,” Mark said. “She’s not here.”
“She never leaves
her house.”
“I know. But I
guess she could not bear he memory of her Jewesh lover. The memory has grown
too strong for her. She has left. And I have a sense where she is.”
“Where?”
“You wouldn’t
believe it.”
“Tell me for
God’s sake!”
Mark went into
Dolphia’s bedroom and yelled, “Come here! She has left.”
“What?” Deena
came rushing in.
“Sure. Her
suitcase is not here, and there are no clothes in her cupboard. Deena, Dolphia
has left. Let’s rush to the station.”
“The station? Are
you mad? She doesn’t know what a train is.”
“Let’s go to the
station. Now!”
The two children
ran down the street until they reached the station which was crowded with
people. It was 5 o’clock, the most busy time at the station. But to find
Dolphia was not difficult. She was standing on a bench with a huge hat and her
suitcase in her hand, weeping. People gathered around her, laughing.
“This is too
much,” Deena said. “They don’t know how valuable she is. Then I’ll tell them.”
She went up to
the bench, crawled up upon it, hugged Dolphia so that her hat fell to the floor
and started to yell to all the people at the staton:
“You don’t kow
what you are doing, when you ridicule this marvellous artist who happens to
have a bad day. To be an artist is a very important thing, because without art
society would wither away. There would be nothing but work, business, money,
and boredom. A society without art is like a child without a soul, and if you
don’t have a soul, you’ll have a society with dead robots, and nothing will
work at all. Take a look around you here at this station. Can you see any art
here? No! But this clever artist has a lot of beautiful paintings at home, and
I’m sure she’ll offer at least two paintings, won’t you, Dolphia?!”
Dolphia wept and
wept and nodded. “Sure,” she whispered.
And Deena
continued, “Has anybody here a car?”
A man stepped
forward. “I have.”
“Will you go with
Mark to the artist’s home and fetch the two paintings?”
”I sure will.”
“It has to be
sunsets, Deena,” Dolphia said. “I love sunsets.”
Mark followed the man to the car, and they came back one
hour later with two huge paintings. All trains stopped, waiting for the
paintings to be hung up. Dolphia was still standing on the bench, weeping –
until all the passengers clapped their hands and yelled, “Thanks for the
paintings! The station is a much better place now. Thanks again!”
Then Dolphia fainted, and Deena tried to pick her up from the floor. And all of a sudden Dolphia got up, laughing happily. “Deena,” she said, “you made my day!”
And from that day
the station was decorated with art, and Dolphia forgot her former loved one.
“You made my
day,” she screamed to Deena, and everybody clapped their hands.
Questions to
discussions in class:
1) Is art so important on a station?
2) Give examples of places where art would fit in.
3) Is there art in your school?
4) What is art? Try to give a definition.
5) Is Deena right, when she holds that society would die
without art?
6) What can art do to people?
7) Art is not only painting. It could be literature,
ballet, opera etc.
Is art so important as Deena seems to hold?
8) Imagine a society without any art. How would that be?
9) Is art as such based on the artist’s liberty?
10)
So if you took
away art, you would remove liberty from society?
11) Give
examples of art you like very much.