Venom's Third Assingnment
Please notice:
This interpretation is not a stand-alone, it runs parallel to the original story, so there is e.g. no renewed formal description of the "artworks" or the general scenery.
Thank you.
All the chit-chat and silly talk seemed to be far away, and the guests' affected giggles reached the reticent man only through a fog. While Francis' visitants were roaming the study, Jerry withdrew to a massive armchair at the room's north-eastern corner. Involuntarily his fingertips started to glide across the materials. Darkened leather, rich of patina, and old Scottish oak - Francis had indeed a good taste in furniture.
At the other side of the study the tall lady called Beatrice admired his work Cassotis at the Hands of Satyric Warriors.
"I must have one!" she proclaimed in an exaggerated soprano.
Jerry imagined her using these very same words as she had seen her best friend's new clutch bag. During the last minutes he had began to pay silent attention to a few persons among the guests, persons who potentially recognise his masterpieces as that what they were: artwork in flesh, not a display of salaciousnesses for jaded parvenus.
Francis and Beatrice shared the Captured Nymph for some moments, then the host attended to another guest. This sinister gentleman's name was Montgomery, and he showed explicit interest in the Spiderwoman.
Spiderwoman - Francis had coined that term. Jerry on his part considered this name to be inappropriate; a spider didn't get caught in its own trap. Woman in the Web he had tattooed below her navel, along with his signature, though the working title had been Penny.
Francis had called him one day in the early morning hours, unable to get this cover picture of some penny dreadful out of his mind.
"Jerry, get that special, trashy look! Give me a Damsel in Distress!" his exact words had been.
Long nights since then they had discussed about this latest project. Sitting in Francis' study, many ideas had been discarded, but they had always found new inspiration in the pieces of art surrounding them.
Montgomery showed a more subtle form of appreciation than Beatrice had done. With a slight feeling of benevolence Jerry noticed how perceptively the tall man was palpating the statue's flesh. Even this fine gesture told the creator all he needed to know. Montgomery, just like Francis, was a sensualist; capable to understand a living artwork, worthy to own one.
Jerry could take the liberty of choosing his clients - the quality of his products was unmatched. In the wrong hands, the knowledge about his patronage could dispossess dynasties: diplomats, churchmen, industrial magnates, even a female supermodel were trusting in Jerry's mastery of furnishing. All of them had willingly granted him access to their sancta, to their Forbidden Rooms. At these places he had been able to assess the exact nature of their likings, and it had been only there where he had discussed the projects' every detail; Jerry never received visitors in his studio, not even Francis.
The taciturn visionary noticed new expressions of delight around him; Francis had called his guests' attention to Desk. Impressed by its thoroughgoing workmanship, the audience surrounded the elaborated object.
Desk had been a hard piece of work. Two times her shoulders had got dislocated as Jerry had fitted her to the given form of the basic table structure. He had had to literally forge her into the desired shape, and more than one of her ligaments had not stand the strain. Calling this cruel meant to misinterpret his work. Others might become exited by seeing a female in pain - his intentions were of a different kind. Turning his visions into flesh and blood didn't allow any compromises. Diluting any details just because of his material's discomfort was nothing less than a treachery on his work. Van Gogh had even cut off his ear to reach a higher form of art!
For understandable reasons Desk had taken a slightly different view as Jerry had driven the glowing steel spike through her palms and soles. This procedure had presented itself to be quick and clean, two important pre-conditions for the titanium grommets' exact fitting. Undoubtedly it had been a stress situation for the female raw material, but Jerry had designed the process to be as safe as possible. He had tied her down on the operating table in his studio, so she had not been able to hurt herself by lashing about. Furthermore a tube gag had prevented her from biting off her tongue.
Being an universal genius, Jerry had had no difficulties to perform all work steps by his own. To his detailed knowledges of art history, sculpture and material science came skills in surgery and psychology - and the unconditional willingness to subordinate his material and himself to the ideal of perfection. This ideal not only demanded physical stainlessness of his creations, but also mental adaptation. Unfortunately, Desk had been clearly disinclined to participate - a mindset totally out of question. So he had subjected her to a severe conditioning that had left nothing of her personality.
The result was this multipurpose piece of furniture the guests were marvelling at.
Dinner was served, and the unique surrounding gave a special piquancy to the meal. The table talks' only topic were the mute artworks, so Francis eventually came to the point:
"It seems that you are all in agreement," the host assessed. "You all want what I have. Well, I have news for you. The man responsible for these creations is here.”
Francis had insisted on introducing him with a big announcement, and for that the quiet man hated him a little bit.
“Friends, I want you to meet Jerry O’Connell.”
Venom, v1.1
