Page 35 of Learning Curves

The frustrating thing was, Michelle would have a great day, as long as Audrey was part of it. As Audrey left her office, she was already counting down the minutes until afternoon tea.

On Friday, Michelle rearranged her day so she could observe Audrey’s Women in Art class again. What could she say? She loved both the topic and the professor. She cringed internally as she slid into a seat at the back of the room. No, she didn’t love Audrey. But she loved being around her.

Last time, Michelle had let her sour feelings about losing the class interfere with her appreciation of Audrey’s teaching. But now, Michelle had truly put it behind her. She was glad to be here, ready to enjoy Women in Art.

Audrey stood at the front of the room, watching as her students settled in their seats, and Michelle saw the exact moment she spotted her.

Audrey froze for a second, and then her whole face seemed to light up.

She flashed Michelle a quick, appreciative smile before continuing her sweep of the room.

Silently taking attendance, if Michelle had to guess.

“Good afternoon,” Audrey said a few minutes later, calling the class to order.

“I’ve got an interesting topic for us today, one you might not have thought of when you signed up for this class.

When we discuss female artists, we’re often looking in areas that compare women to men.

We’ve examined the emotional nuance Lady Butler brought to her paintings of battle scenes and the way Alice Neel portrayed women from all walks of life in ways that hadn’t always been seen from male artists.

But today, we’re going to look at an art form that has been used predominantly by women and, as such, has often been overlooked.

Art historians often consider it ‘lesser’ or even a hobby instead of art.

Curious what I’m talking about?” She paused, and the room collectively held its breath, or that was how it felt to Michelle. “It’s quilt making.”

A murmur ran through the class. Michelle sat up straighter in her seat. Quilt making. She had only basic knowledge of the subject. Perhaps her own internal bias had caused her to view it as a lesser art form, too, and she had a feeling Audrey was about to open her eyes.

Audrey touched her laptop, and a photo of a quilt appeared on the screen.

Its colors were somewhat muted, but each square held a detailed scene.

Michelle could tell the quilt contained infinitely more meaning than she was able to discern at a glance.

She’d love the opportunity to study it at length.

In fact, once she learned the title and artist, she planned to do just that.

“This quilt was created by Harriet Powers,” Audrey said.

“As we’ve seen already in this class, artists of all genders and ethnicities have used art to tell their stories.

Harriet Powers was born into slavery in Georgia in 1837.

We don’t know much about her early life, but she’s one of the most renowned quilt makers of the nineteenth century, and if you’ve never heard of her, what does that tell you about the way we generally view art and the artists who create it? ”

Audrey paused, and again a ripple ran through the room.

“The quilt displayed here is called, quite simply, Pictorial Quilt , although there’s nothing simple about it.

As you may be able to tell from where you’re sitting, each square depicts a scene or story.

Many are biblical stories, but in the central square, you’ll see what Harriet described as ‘the falling of the stars,’ which was likely the Leonid meteor shower.

” Audrey clicked her laptop again, and a close-up of one of the quilt squares appeared.

“Just look at the detail she included in each square. I’ve spent hours examining this quilt, and I hope you will, too, because there’s so much here to see.

Also, it’s important to know that as a slave, Harriet couldn’t read or write.

She used her quilts to document the stories she’d grown up hearing as well as stories from her own life, and her art is even more powerful when you consider the many ways in which society tried to prevent her from creating or having ownership over anything at all. ”

Michelle realized she’d leaned forward in her seat, gripped by Audrey’s words and the images of the quilt on the screen.

Audrey clicked to the next slide. “Harriet uses many different fabrics and textures to bring life to the images in her quilts. Here she’s used a bright-orange fabric to add emphasis to the falling stars.

At the time, people thought the end of the world was coming, and you can see that in the body language of the figures.

Their arms are up, and I can practically see them running in fear, can’t you? ”

Michelle could, and she saw something else too.

This class was fresher and more exciting than the one she’d pitched to Stuart.

Audrey was so fucking impressive. She deserved to teach this class, just as she deserved every bit of the popularity and success she’d enjoyed since joining the faculty here.

Michelle’s chest swelled with pride for her role in guiding Audrey to this moment. Audrey had told her repeatedly that Michelle inspired her to pursue an academic career rather than one as a potter, and it might be Michelle’s greatest accomplishment as a professor.

In fact, this moment felt like a sign that Michelle’s academic career was drawing to a close. Looking at Audrey now, she saw the difference between them more acutely than ever. If Audrey was the future of the department, surely Michelle was the past.

But that was a truth to examine another day, perhaps once she’d finished drafting this book. She needed to ascertain whether there was any money to be made with her writing, because she couldn’t give up her academic career without a viable alternative.

Audrey went on to cover several other important quilt makers, including Ellen Harding Baker and her Solar System quilt.

By the time she’d finished, Michelle was absolutely dazzled by the talented quilt makers she’d learned about today.

Even more impressive was the way Audrey had taken a topic many overlooked and made it one of the most interesting lectures Michelle could ever remember attending.

That’s my girl.

She stayed in her seat, hands clasped across her lap, as the class began to filter into the hallway.

Several students stayed behind to talk to Audrey.

Michelle remembered Ji-Yoon from the last time she’d observed.

The girl had a bright future as an art historian if her enthusiasm in this class was any indication.

Currently, she and Audrey had their heads together, looking at something on Audrey’s laptop, and Ji-Yoon’s expression was one of unadulterated wonder.

Michelle could relate.

Ji-Yoon and Audrey spoke for several minutes before the girl slung her backpack over her shoulder and headed for the door.

She was looking at something on her phone, and as she passed Michelle, she glimpsed a quilt square displayed on the screen.

Moments like these, students like Ji-Yoon, and professors like Audrey reassured Michelle that there was still hope for humanity.

More than hope, there was promise .

“What did you think?” Audrey stood beside the lectern, wearing a long-sleeved dress embroidered with brightly colored flowers that, now that Michelle was paying attention, she could see was vaguely reminiscent of some of the quilts they’d seen in class today.

“I think you’re the most impressive thing I’ve ever seen.” Michelle gathered her briefcase from where she’d placed it beneath her seat and stood.

“That’s a bold statement. I’m a brand-new professor, Michelle. Have you ever seen yourself? Because you’re a hell of a lot more impressive than I am.”

Michelle shook her head as she made her way to the front of the room.

Standing beside the lectern, Audrey was a step up from Michelle, putting her at eye level with Audrey’s breasts, a devastatingly distracting view.

Michelle stepped up beside her. “You breathe life into the art that you teach. You make us sit up and pay attention to things we might not have noticed otherwise, and yes, that’s impressive. You are impressive.”

Michelle was standing too close now, so close she could see Audrey’s inhale and the way she moved subtly forward. Michelle just stared at her, unable to move or speak.

“Michelle ...” Audrey’s voice was low and raspy.

Michelle braced a hand against the lectern to keep from reaching for her. She’d lost track of the point she was trying to make. All she knew was that Audrey shone brightness into Michelle’s otherwise dull world and that she wanted to kiss her more than she wanted anything else from her life.

Without warning, Audrey’s hand gripped Michelle’s hip, hauling her in. Before Michelle could react, before she could even draw a breath, Audrey’s lips had crashed into hers. Oh.

Audrey’s teeth sank into Michelle’s lower lip, flooding her with sensation, pleasure, and arousal and ... joy. Her body tingled from head to foot, as if she’d been asleep since the last time they kissed, and now she’d finally opened her eyes.

She was wide awake. Breathtakingly awake.

And this time, Michelle wasn’t going back to sleep.