Chapter Text
*
The first art seminar was so far a success. Her audience gazed at her, enraptured.
Her audience made up of of the one trooper who showed up to her seminar.
The trooper—called Ghost by their comrades—was sitting back straight with their helmet in their hands, living up to their moniker as they waited in silent stillness.
Juna took a deep breath and began.
“I’ve decided to focus on Rothko tonight.” Juna gestured to a holo of a young man at the forefront of the images surrounding them in the conference room. “He’s very important to the Naboo.” She clicked and another holo came to the forefront. “His approach changed dramatically over the course of his life.”
Click.
“Closer to the beginning of his career he was quoted saying, “Without monsters and gods, art cannot enact a drama.”
Click.
“He believed that conscious beings needed to use art as a means of catharsis. The drama he spoke of was the one that plays out inside of each of us as we attempt to fathom our existence. When they gazed upon the images of their heroes and villains, they saw their own triumphs and traumas.”
Click.
“Then the clone wars came. There was no sense to be made.”
Click.
“Because of this, Rothko’s art changed drastically. He had anchored his work in the spiritual power of myth and the need to see ourselves reflected in our history. In his last known public address given to students in Theed, he said, ‘We are for flat forms because they destroy illusion and reveal truth.’
Juna pointed to the holo of the rectangular canvas composed of three blocks of solid color.
“As you can see, his depiction of ‘flat forms’ was quite literal.” She pointed to the rectangle at the top.
“No more forms.”
She pointed to the second block.
“No more monsters.”
Juna swallowed and pointed to the final block.
“No more gods.”
Juna’s eyes flicked to Ghost’s face.
Nothing but silence from her audience.
Juna approached Ghost and held out her hand. She tilted her head. “May I?”
Ghost took Juna’s hand and allowed them to be led up to the holo so they were face to face with the image.
“Sometimes,” Juna mused, “a change of perspective”, she looked at Ghost, “is all we need. Now, if and when you’re ready to share, I’m listening. Take your time.” With her free hand, she gestured to the holo glowing in the dimmed lights.
A minute passed in a silence until Juna heard a clear voice.
Ghost swallowed. “I think … I think …” They cleared their throat. “Turbolaser fire has a sort of static to it. It’s … alive, almost.”
Juna nodded her head.
“You can only see it once you’re past the point of no return and the gun is fully charged and activated; when calling back the laser fire is an impossibility.”
Ghost raised their hand and let their fingers fade in and out of the graphic composition of the holo.
A steady silence filled the room.
“I don’t like that color.”
*