Behind the Canvas by Alexander Vance Read Free Book Online Page A

She unfolded a sheet of aged but blank white paper and placed it on the table in front of Claudia with the wooden case.
    â€œPaint something, child,” she commanded.
    Paint something? Now? Claudia reached forward and opened the case. It was filled with small tubes of watercolor paint and several brushes. She looked up at Granny Custos. “I don’t want to paint anything. I want to know how you’re going to help Pim get home.”
    Granny Custos set a small bowl of water and a stoneware plate next to the paper. “Then you’d best get started.” She gestured to the paper. “And make it a good one. Paint .”
    The old woman projected an aura that left no room for argument. Claudia wasn’t sure yet what to think of her. Granny Custos seemed to know a lot about the witch who had trapped Pim. She could just as easily be a witch herself. Then again, wasn’t that the type of person who would be able to help Pim?
    She reluctantly picked up one of the brushes. “What do I paint?”
    â€œWhatever comes to you. Courage, perhaps. One can always use more courage.”
    Pim had been staring in wonder at Granny Custos since her declaration about creating the world Pim was in. He fidgeted with his hands, looking desperate to ask a question. Finally he asked it. “If you created the world behind the canvas, then you must be an Artisti .” Understanding settled on his astonished face. “A Renaissance 6 Artisti .”
    â€œWhat’s an Artisti ?” asked Claudia.
    â€œPatience, child,” Granny Custos mumbled. “Paint.” She sat and opened the book she had tucked under her arm. The leather cover was worn beyond reading and the yellowed pages were whisper-thin. She flipped through them delicately with nimble fingers.
    Claudia picked up a tube of orange paint and squeezed a dab onto the plate, followed by a dab of yellow, then red. While she’d never had the guts to try oil painting, she had played a bit with watercolor. But she had no clue what to paint as she dipped her brush into the water, and even less of an idea why she was painting in the first place. What does courage look like? Suddenly an image came to mind—something she had seen in an art book in the library.
    â€œAha!” cried Granny Custos. Claudia jumped. The old woman jabbed her finger at a page in the book. She studied it for a moment before reaching for a bottle on the table. Claudia leaned over to see the title of the page: Unguento di Attreversarse la Tela . Flowery, illegible Italian streamed in rows and columns, but Claudia had seen the inside of her mom’s cookbooks often enough to know a recipe when she saw one.
    I’m painting and she’s cooking. Next she’s going to ask Pim to tap-dance. She mixed the paint on the stoneware palette.
    Granny Custos poured some of the contents of the bottle into a tablespoon, tipping the measured liquid into the green plastic bowl in front of her. “Art is magic. Always has been. And all artists, magicians. At least in part. But not all of them know it. Most do not.”
    Claudia looked up, her brush a breath away from the paper. “All artists are magicians? What does that mean?”
    Granny Custos flicked her fingers at Claudia. “Paint, paint! Don’t ask your silly questions. Let me talk.” She dug a teaspoon into a can and sprinkled tiny seeds into her bowl. “To create beauty from nothing, that alone is magic. But art has stronger ties to the cords of magic than anything else. Cave paintings? Ha!—magic runes. Greek sculpture? Ha!—powerful talismans. Egyptian reliefs? Ha!—spells to make buildings strong and enemies weak.”
    The old woman thumped the book in front of her. “As paper and ink let us access thought, the substance of art lets us access magic. Any artist with talent can learn. But only Artisti can master it.”
    â€œWhat’s an Artisti ?” Claudia asked