nexus_crossings | The Beauty of Inspiration

The Beauty of Inspiration

There is a large canvas set up in the Plaza today. The majority of the canvas, which is five feet in height and close to seven feet in length, is currently blank. But there is an artist who is working on the first portion of his project.

Hunter has a very unique appearance. A network of vine-themed tattoos cover his face and neck (and since he is wearing a tank top today, those same tattoos are also visible on his arms). There is a large rose bush tattoo on his left forearm that seems to be connected to the vines that run up his arm. He is completely bald. A large silver tree is prominently placed on his forehead, which trails down to a nose-bridge piercing. He has no eyebrows, instead Arabic writing is tattooed along his brow line. And along the right side of his cheek is a deep red scar.

At his side is a large trolley, that currently holds a multitude of paint jars. There is also a large container of rose petals, which every now and then Hunter uses to dip into the paint and place onto the canvas to create a multi-dimensional appearance to his creation.

He also has a few cloths available, so every now and then he can clean his hands, step back and look at the piece. It is during one of those moments, that Hunter asks his question. "Where do you find your inspiration?"

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Martha is a new arrival to the Nexus, and while her traveling companion is no stranger to the place she is strolling around. The amount of non-human life isn't a big surprise to a veteran traveler, and she walks around like she almost belongs there.

She comes to a stop and she looks at the gentleman with a gazillion tattoos, and it isn't the canvas of flesh that catches her eye. It is the canvas and the paint jars, and the question that have her walk closer to him. She looks at the piece, and she tries to figure out what it is that he is painting.

"My folks. But my inspiration comes from..." Martha looks up at the sky in the plaza, and she points a finger towards the stars. "The stars up above." She's used to seeing a sky that doesn't look like Earth's.

It appears that Hunter is capturing the essence of the Plaza itself on his canvas. The parts that he has completed so far mimic some of the images that lay behind the canvas.

He smiles, glancing up at the sky the same time she does. "Yeah? Have you had the opportunity to explore those stars?"

If this were Earth or somewhere else, Martha might be a bit more reluctant to speak of her travels. A smile crosses her face as she looks at the painting of the plaza.

"I have. But still being on the ground puts everything back into perspective. Or well mine has been changed when I've been so close to them." Never mind having been nearly cooked to a crisp by a sentient star.

"Thanks to a friend of mine, I had one opportunity to see Earth from orbit. It was an amazing experience."

Hunter smiles. "And it did inspire a few paintings."

"How long have you been back on ground?"

"I've been on the ground for a few years now. But I just happened to reconnect with an old friend of mine, and he brought me here."

Martha continues to admire the painting, and she's using it as a way to learn about the different places in the plaza.

"This same friend is the one who took me to see those very same stars."

He smiles at the way she is admire the painting. "He must trust you every much."

"Did you want to paint a section?" He offers.

Martha looks shocked when he asks her if she wants to paint a section of his painting. And she soon begins to look a little flustered as she looks at what to her appears to be a work of art.

"Are you sure? I'm afraid I don't got an artistic bone in me."

But it isn't like her to not want to try, as she goes to stand besides him and she eyes the numerous brushes and paints.

"And the most I've drawn are stick figures."

"I can help you, if you like." Hunter smiles. "And why not? The piece could be a collection of artwork done by anyone who stops by, and it would make it more of a representation of the Nexus itself."

Hunter smiles again. He selects a brush and holds it out to her. "It doesn't have to be just my work."

"I'm not sure if any amount of helping will help."

Martha reaches for the brush, and she takes a good look around her to see if there is something, she can add without botching up the painting.

"But if you want to try, I think we can try painting that tree with the neon blue flowers."

Martha points the brush in the direction of the alien tree, the teacup like flowers almost seem to glow as the light hits them. And a small butterfly winged humming bird is buzzing around them looking to take a sip of the sweet nectar the flowers have to offer.

"Great choice." And Hunter mixed a couple of colors together, to match the neon blue of those flowers.

"Start with the trunk and then the branches, and then start creating the flowers themselves."

Hunter watches the butterfly winged humming bird, and smiles. "And I can add the humming bird into the picture."

With a steady hand, Martha dips the brush into some light brown paint, and she makes a few strokes on the canvas. The larger base of the trunk, and the thicker branches aren't going to be her problem. And for someone who has the steady hand of a doctor, the lines are nice and crisp.

"This was the easy part." Now comes the more challenging part, as Martha looks at all of the tiny limbs and the lush palm like leaves. "And perhaps, I bit off a little more than I can chew. Do you have any suggestions on how to make the tiny limbs and leaves?"

Hunter watches her for a moment, smiled at hos steady her work is, despite her nervousness. He nods at her question.

"Here..." He picks out a smaller, more thin brush. "Use this brush. Let the brush gently touch the canvas, to make the tiny limbs."

"Then for the leaves themselves, would you like to use the rose petals?" He nods towards the jar of rose petals.

Eventually when Hunter turns around as he's wiping his hands clean of the paint he will notice someone else standing to the side and watching with interest as he works on the painting.

It's been a long, long, long time since Steve has been in the Nexus. He didn't expect to see faces he recognizes. Hunter is definitely not someone he's met before. All the same, he watches the man work intently. His gaze rarely leaving the canvas.

When Steve notices he has Hunter's attention he gives a sheepish smile.

"My memories. Often times, my art's all I have left of people and places." Steve nods to the man's painting. "Where do you find yours?"

Hunter smiles softly. "Usually, in the everyday lives of the people around me. I can sit for hours in the park, or on a bench, and just see the simple things that make life worth living."

"What kind of art do you favor?"

Hunter's words bring a small nostalgic smile to his face. There was a time when Steve would do the same here in the Nexus; occupy a spare chair in the plaza or a park bench a bit outside of the hustle and bustle and just watch the world around him. Reveling in the myriads of different people coming and going from this meeting place between worlds.

Excuse him while he fishes in his jacket before pulling out a small leather bound book and holding it up for Hunter to see.

"Sketches, mostly. Though I love all of it, I did most of my larger works in charcoals."

"Really?" Hunter smiles again. He reaches down into his backpack, and pulls out a large sketch book.

"I do most of my works in pencil crayons."

He holds out his sketch book. "Portrait work. Would you like to see?"

That draws out a laugh from Steve Rogers. He nods once and offers out his own notebook in one hand and moves to accept Hunter's much larger sketchbook with the other.

"Nice. I'm...ah. I'm a soldier so I don't have the luxury of taking larger books with me a lot of the time. But I always have this one on me. A lot of my work is portraits too. Sometimes it's caricatures or abstract drawings. I used to be a newspaper satire cartoonist a long time ago. Freelance."

A pause and then Steve nods again.

"Steve Rogers. It's nice to meet another artist."

Hunter starts slowly flipping through Steve's notebook, taking his time to admire the portraits, caricatures and drawings contained within.

When Steve starts looking through Hunter's, he might immediately know that the other artist lives in New York City because of the city backgrounds in most of the drawings. Most of his drawings depict life on a busy New York City. There are those of the homeless and their struggles, the overworked and underpaid waitress in a busy café, lawyers rushing to get to the same cab, and many more.

At the introduction, Hunter glances back up. "I'm Hunter. And yes, it is really nice to meet you."

Rogers' New York in the small sketches looks damn near antiquated by comparison. The old cars heading to the Brooklyn bridge. Roadside food carts and a ferris wheel that would be immediately shut down in Hunter's era. These sketches are joined by those of a woman with a similar face to Steve's smoothing out a wrinkle in her 1930's nurse uniform. A different woman with dark curls punching out a much larger soldier than she.

Faces familiar to locals of the Nexus as well who Hunter may or may not recognize. The newest drawings are of Steve's fellow Avengers. An anatomy study of a man drawing back a bowstring. A disheveled man in glasses hunched quietly over a cup of tea with headphones on. A woman looking up out of the corner of her eye as she cleans a pistol.

The raspy sounds of pages turning has slowed on Steve's end. He's staring at each and ever drawing of Hunter's in a quiet awe. His fingers tracing just above the familiar landmarks. Wide eyes studying the lined face of the corner cafe waitress cleaning tables. Of the greying beard on the homeless man looking up from his seat while a cheery real estate ad is plastered up behind him.

"I'm from Brooklyn...." Steve's voice is quiet and filled with emotion. His eyes are still on Hunter's sketchbook. "Born and raised. This is...these are something else." He sounds deeply impressed and more than a little moved.

Hunter is equally captivated by the sketches of a New York from a different time. A time before he was born. But he can recognize the Brooklyn bridge.

He takes careful time studying the woman in the nurse uniform. And then the woman with the dark curls. He smiles slightly at the action in the drawing, capturing the moment of her punching out a larger soldier.

Hunter also takes the time to study the more recent drawings.

"Really?" Hunter chuckles lowly in his throat. "I grew up in Manhattan."

What a strange and wondrous thing it is to see an artist at work. Red looks over the canvas with a discerning eye as he ponders the question, enjoying both artist and the art at the same time.

"People are my inspiration. Finding what they need and a solution to get it that benefits both them and myself requires a creative process that I enjoy delving into as often as possible." His eyes wander away from Hunter as he steps closer to the canvas, his hands clasped behind his back as he takes in every inch of it. "The world is my canvas, and I paint it with deeds both great and small."

Hunter smiles, stepping back slightly so that Red can wander along the canvas, without worry about bumping into him.

"People are my inspiration too. I enjoy capturing them in the everyday... the moments when they are just living what they consider an ordinary day. It is those small things that I aim to capture in my work."

The painted areas of the canvas have Hunter's unique brush stroke in them. They are soft and gentle, like someone exploring the world for the first time. And every now and then, due to Hunter soaking the rose petals in the paint, and then placing them on the canvas, there is a richer detail.

Red nods slowly as he listens. An artist's reasons for his work are always curious things, and make the work that much more interesting to him. His eyes never waver from the canvas as he follows every stroke of the brush, the placement of every unique color. He idly wonders what the rose petals are for, but that question can wait for a moment.

"And what are you trying to capture in your piece today?" he asks, finally glancing over at Hunter again. "What things have inspired you to pick this spot to set up your canvas?"

"I am painting a mural of the Plaza itself," Hunter answers both questions with one answer.

"So I will always remember the place where people welcome me, and allow me to be myself."

"You did?"

Steve chuckles then, a quiet sound that does wonders for relieving the out of touch expression he'd worn while studying the drawings. It helps to be reminded of where and when he is. Sometimes it's easy to get lost in his memories.

"In the 2000s I'm assuming? The time you're from I mean."

Near the back of the sketch book are some portrait drawings of people who are important to Hunter. There is a captivating drawing of a woman with bright green eyes, who seems to be looking right at Steve when he studies the drawing. And following that drawing, are sketches of seven different girls, who have a similar face to the woman with the bright green eyes, but each have their own characteristics. And there are a few drawings of Hunter himself, without his shirt, that depict the network of thorn-themed tattoos that decorate his body.

"Yes. 2017. Are you from an earlier time?"

"Yes, and no."

He knows it's a vague answer but the truth is complicated. Especially considering the Nexus.

"I came to the Nexus from December, 1941 the first time. But it's 2017 where and when I work, now. So while I'm from an earlier time, I'm living in a modern world now." And only partially thanks to Nexus shenanigans, at that.

"Got to love how time seems to merge here, no matter where you are from. Or how long it has been since you were here last." Hunter smiles slightly.

"So you crossed the timeline, to now be where you are. That must be difficult to catch up with all the differences."

"More or less, yeah."

Steve rubs at the back of his neck. It's really quite the mind trip every time he thinks too hard about it.

Hunter smiles softly. "Would you like to paint a little?" He offers Steve a brush. And gestures to the canvas in a welcoming gesture.

"I find, that the art always helps me focus my mind."

Once more Steve's gaze sweeps over the canvas taking in all of the bright colors and texture hunter has added to the piece already. It reminds him of a mural he did once in an attempt to bring some warmth to a charmed winter Nexus a long time ago.

Perhaps because of that memory Steve decides to paint a bouquet of golden yellow tulips tied together with a warm burgundy ribbon that drapes off of the small table he's made for them to sit on.

Hunter leaves Steve alone while he paints, because simply that is the whole point. And he works on an area, where he is creating a small forest of lollipop trees.

Martha takes the brush from his hand, and she does her best to make the branches more than just straight lines on the tree. There are bends, knocks, and twists. She looks at her piece of art, and she turns around to look at Hunter.

"...Sure." The leaves of the tree were a soft greenish yellow, and while the rose petals didn't exactly match, Martha knew that not all things have to be perfect. "I take you don't happen to have any glue lying around here."

"I don't use glue..." Hunter moves over to stand by her, as he demonstrates.

"You take the rose petals, dip in them in the paint color, and then place the rose petal onto the canvas."

"The paint acts as a adhesives, until I am able to finish with a finishing adhesive spray that keeps everything where it was placed."

"Ah!" Martha blushes, and she feels a little silly to think that glue would even be used for the painting. She looks at the paint, and she reaches a free hand for one of the petals and she dips it in the green paint.

"Alright then. I think this will do."

She looks at the green rose petal, and she carefully places it on one of the branches of the tree.

"Very nicely done." Hunter smiles. The painting gets a textured look once the rose petals are put into place.

Martha is having fun dipping petals and putting them on the canvas. The smile on her face has grown, and she looks over her shoulder.

"Thanks. And I don't believe we introduced each other. Name's Martha."

"I'm Hunter." He smiles even wider, himself. It is nice to see Martha enjoying herself.

"What brings you to the Nexus, Martha?"

"Is that such an unusual thing?" Red asks, watching the artist curiously. "I would think an artist should be allowed to be however he chooses, so long as he abides by the social laws of his land. I've never heard of an artist being persecuted for being true to himself."

"I have had other people judge me based on my unusual appearance." Hunter shrugs his shoulders. He is used to people judging him on the tattoos.

"But my art is being recognized by others. And that is a nice feeling."

Judgement based on appearance. He supposes he shouldn't be surprised, but there's a hint of it in his eyes as he shakes his head.

"I'm sorry you've been treated poorly," he offers softly. "No one who creates such beautiful works of art deserve such unkindness from the universe."

"Thank you..." Hunter blushes a little. He is still getting comfortable with being complimented.

"I have been welcoming others to add their own interpretation to this one..." He holds out a brush. "Would you like to be included?"

"A pleasure, Hunter." Martha dips another petal into the paint, and she plops it on the canvas along with the rest.

"I came here with a close friend of mine. Though I don't exactly know where he got off to, but I should be good on my own. And what about you?"

"I was so caught up in a painting, that I didn't realize where I was the first day I was here. But I have made some great friends."

"And now I stay here, more than my own home dimension."

Red chuckles and shakes his head at the offer. "No, no, I'm no artist. As tempting as it might be to add colors to your canvas, I fear I would only distract from your masterpiece." He smiles in a way that doesn't quite reach his eyes and nods toward the canvas. "My creativity is best offered in the form of words and stories. I'd be happy to tell you one while you paint, if you insist on me adding to this."

"I would enjoy hearing a story," Hunter responds, with a smile of his own.

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The Beauty of Inspiration

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