When Art Inspires Fiction

A fictional glimpse into the imagined moments behind famous works of art.

A Note to readers: The story below is a work of imagination inspired by a real painting. While the artwork and artist are real, the narrative presented here is entirely fictional and represents my own creative interpretation. It’s a bit of literary daydreaming inspired by art.

Spring 1910, London

Although the Albert Bridge lay more than a mile away, I could hear the motor taxi chugging and rattling across the timber decking, disrupting the peace of this unseasonably warm spring morning. It sounded as though a hundred armored knights had tumbled down a staircase.

Out of habit, I tugged the gold chain in my pocket. My client adhered to a strict schedule; today was no exception.

Within moments, a sleek green Renault was bumping down the cobbled street. Children on their way to school ran alongside, urging the driver to squeeze the brassy bulb horn. He obliged.

“Ah-oo-gah!†echoed for blocks, ceasing only when the cab pulled up to No. 5 Cromwell Place.

An apron-clad domestic appeared on the portico across the street, brandishing a rolling pin and scattering the children like pigeons.

The woman inside the cab barely waited for it to come to a complete stop. Nimble and nymphlike, she leapt to the sidewalk. A frown grazed her lips when she had to tip her head to avoid Hazel’s carefully tended greenery spilling over the entryway. Her fiery temperament revealed itself in retaliation: she snapped off a generous spray of the offending perennials and crossed the threshold carrying a fresh bouquet.

She nodded at me and headed across the room.

She climbed the stairs with the effortless precision of someone who had spent her life defying gravity.

I took them two at a time to keep pace. This was her fourth weekly visit; she was impatient for me to finish her portrait.

She was already seated when I entered, tying her pointe shoes. The lace-up ankle boots she had worn were tucked beneath the armchair.

Morning light streamed through the window, the curtains billowing softly in the breeze. As though summoned by the elements themselves, she tucked the flowers into her hair, unwound her gossamer silk scarf, and floated into the sunbeams that danced off the crystal chandelier.

This story was inspired by the painting Anna Pavlova (1910) by John Lavery, held at the Kelvingrove Art Gallery and Museum. I LOVE this portrait. It greets visitors as you enter the Glasgow Boys gallery. I love the impressionistic flare that Anna exhibits. The colors and imagery make me smile from the inside out. This is how I envision myself leaping out of bed each morning when I know coffee and a book are waiting.

For more beautiful inspiration, when you are in Glasgow, visit the Kelvingrove Art Gallery and Museum: https://www.glasgowlife.org.uk/museums/venues/kelvingrove-art-gallery-and-museum

Photo courtesy of www.glasgowlife.org.uk