by Emily Abrams
Cast breakdown:
CHARLOTTE: A semi-insecure twenty-year-old Art History major from NYU. Brown hair tumbles over her shoulders, unkempt. Her polished, chic-yet-casual attire might exude confidence and poise, but she is quite the opposite. Mouse-like and on edge. Worry covers her face.
ALBERT: A short, elderly man with many wrinkles on his face, somewhere in his nineties. He has an endearing, grandfatherly air about him, a somewhat frail appearance, but approachable in his dapper, long, brown, wool coat and matching cap. Walking cane and/or Sherlock-esque bent pipe optional.
Stage: A spacious gallery room at the Metropolitan Museum of Art, taking up the entirety of the stage. There are three wall panels with obscure paintings affixed to them: one aligned Upstage doubles as the gallery entrance, with the other two walls placed at a slant Stage Left and Stage Right respectively. A single wooden bench is placed center stage.
(CHARLOTTE enters, clutching a large sketchbook and her portable art kit. She manages not to drop anything and sits on the bench, facing the audience. A few of her sketches fall at her feet as she opens her sketchbook. She ignores them and begins sketching furiously, frequently looking up into the audience and back to the sketchbook.)
(ALBERT enters, slowly making his way to the bench, and sits beside CHARLOTTE. He takes off his cap, resting it on the bench, looks at the painting, sighs, and smiles to himself. He notices CHARLOTTE.)
ALBERT
It’s quite remarkable, wouldn’t you say?
CHARLOTTE
(Startled, she returns a half-smile and sketches while responding.)
Oh, uh, yes… breathtaking.
ALBERT
I’ve always been an admirer of that fella, Monet. Definitely had a way with a paintbrush!
(He looks over at CHARLOTTE and watches her sketch.)
Name’s Albert, and what wonderful talent you have there. Soleil Levant. One of his firsts! An excellent choice. Excellent! Have you been an artist for long?
CHARLOTTE
No.
ALBERT
Well you should be! Even with just a pencil, your sketching balances blending, shading, definition—all that good stuff.
CHARLOTTE
Uh… thank you.
(CHARLOTTE shifts a little further down the bench. ALBERT ignores this.)
ALBERT
Look at it. Truly look at it! How the fog engulfs the bay, and then there, just above the horizon, a setting sun. Falling in all its—
CHARLOTTE
(Gently, under her breath)
A rising sun.
ALBERT
Excuse me?
CHARLOTTE
Monet was painting a rising sun, sir—uh, Albert?
ALBERT
Well then, how do you know for certain, Miss—uh, your name again?
CHARLOTTE
(CHARLOTTE extends her hand across the bench, and they shake.)
Charlotte. I’m an Art History major at NYU. I’ve spent a semester of research on Monet’s Soleil Levant. That is definitely a rising sun.
ALBERT
Huh, well I’ll be damned. Guess it’s like they say: you learn something new every day.
CHARLOTTE
Sure, I guess. Well, it was nice to—
ALBERT
Oh! I hope you don’t mind, Charlotte, I just love talking about art.
(ALBERT chuckles to himself. CHARLOTTE half-smiles and stops sketching, annoyed.)
Why, Diane, my late wife, would hush me at cocktail parties. She’d whisper, “Al, dear, you’re becoming a broken record again.” Ah well, I’ll be on my way though. I must see more of my paintings. But I won’t bother you any longer, Miss.
(ALBERT stands slowly, clearly exaggerating. He picks his cap up off the bench.)
CHARLOTTE
Uh, wait… What did you mean by “your paintings”?
ALBERT
(ALBERT turns and sits back down)
Ah, well they’re not mine. No, of course not. I’m no artist. But I saved them.
CHARLOTTE
Saved the artists? Or their paintings?
ALBERT
Both, in a way… Ah, let me see…
(ALBERT counts on his fingers, briefly looks up to the ceiling, and closes his eyes.)
It was 1945… It was the tail end of World War II. Good ol’ Eisenhower was in office, and then there was me. And the M-F-A-A…
CHARLOTTE
The what?
ALBERT
We were the safe-guarders, Charlotte. Us soldiers, scavenging all of Europe, looking for the artwork that the Nazi’s had stolen—those bastards!
CHARLOTTE
Oh, right! Like that George Clooney movie?!
ALBERT
Sure.
(He smiles, taking a deep breath for effect)
CHARLOTTE
So, you saved actual paintings?
ALBERT
Ah, yes, there were some big ones. In Tuscany, some of the guys found Botticelli’s Birth of Venus.
CHARLOTTE
But where were you?
ALBERT
I was elsewhere. I was in Austria. May 8th, 1945, I’ll never forget that day. It was a salt mine! Charlotte, you would not believe it. It was like winning BINGO.
(CHARLOTTE laughs.)
Works from Rubens, Rembrandt, Michelangelo, the Van Eyck brothers. Made all the papers that day!
CHARLOTTE
(CHARLOTTE’S eyes are wide, mouth open in shock.)
That’s insane!
ALBERT
(ALBERT closes his eyes, extends his hand stage left, pointing into space. He mimics his movements as he describes.)
And then there, in the back corner, I saw a small package, wrapped up in beige paper. I picked it up, and tore it open. I saw the brown hair, the two gazing eyes, and then… that smile… Mona Lisa.
CHARLOTTE
You can’t be serious! No, that can’t be true.
ALBERT
(ALBERT chuckles and then sighs)
Ah, but it was. I may look like a fossil, but my mind is still sharp!
CHARLOTTE
Wow… What I would’ve given to be you…
(CHARLOTTE looks up at the gallery. Silence passes for a moment. Then a mix of sadness and frustration covers CHARLOTTE’S face.)
Albert, can I ask? How old were you then?
ALBERT
Hmmm… my early 20s about, I’d say.
CHARLOTTE
(CHARLOTTE under her breath.)
That’s my age.
(Speaking aloud.)
See, you did so much by that age: saw Europe and saved things. And me, well, not so much. I’m just doodling at the Met on a rainy Sunday.
ALBERT
What’s wrong with that?
CHARLOTTE
Nothing, I guess. But I have this irrational fear that I’m making a terrible mistake, Albert. I became an Art History major when I got to college. Don’t get me wrong, I love everything about it—the art, the artists, the history.
ALBERT
If you ask me, that doesn’t sound at all like a mistake.
CHARLOTTE
Sure, but everyone keeps telling me it is a mistake. All I ever hear is “You can’t be serious,” or “Charlotte, you’re wasting your time.” Don’t even get me started on my parents and their you-can’t-make-a-living-that-way lecture. And what if they’re right?
ALBERT
Hold on. Charlotte, you and I are a lot alike. We love art with a passion. We take the time to care about it.
CHARLOTTE
Not many do though… Even the Met was begging for donations at the ticket counter today.
ALBERT
I promise you, people do care. Look around! People like you show up. It’s never empty here.
CHARLOTTE
(CHARLOTTE chuckles)
That’s nice, but I can’t stare at paintings all day. When I think about your story, I see how you have something to show for what you’ve done—when you cared about art.
ALBERT
But you could, too!
CHARLOTTE
It’s one thing to chase down art, but I just study it and try to copy it. It’s not practical.
ALBERT
It is practical!
CHARLOTTE
Albert, I’m sorry, but you’re wrong!
(CHARLOTTE opens her sketchbook, shuffles through her drawings, showing them to ALBERT.)
So, what if I know a lot about Van Gogh or Monet? I hear what my parents are saying: “Charlotte, these classes don’t come free.” All I have to show for my education is a couple of good grades and a semi-decent talent for sketching.
(CHARLOTTE catches herself, takes a deep breath. She collects her sketches and puts them back in the book.)
Might as well take up art forgery!
ALBERT
(ALBERT laughs.)
Well, that’s one way to make a living. But I think the artists wouldn’t appreciate it.
CHARLOTTE
But you see what I mean, though, right?
ALBERT
Charlotte, I’ve learned in my lifetime that you definitely can make something out of knowledge of art. Either become the creator or become the teacher. Have you thought of becoming an art curator? The next generation would appreciate it.
CHARLOTTE
Yes, they’ve all suggested that to me.
ALBERT
Then why not be one?
CHARLOTTE
It’s a lot easier said than done. I’ve called everywhere for opportunities. I even called here! They said, “Sorry, ma’am we don’t have anything available.”
ALBERT
That’s where you went wrong.
CHARLOTTE
What? How? I was polite and everything.
ALBERT
You aimed too high. You’ve got the passion, but take smaller steps. Curators aren’t taken fresh off the streets. Think small, show em’ what you got, and then work your way up.
CHARLOTTE
But—
ALBERT
(ALBERT cuts CHARLOTTE off.)
Those museum folks will see you’d make a great curator, helping them find great pieces and put them up in galleries for people like you and me. Kind of like a modern Monuments Men, if you think about it—or women.
(ALBERT pauses.)
Okay, enough. Stand up!
(They stand. The stage lights dim, leaving the two in a shared spotlight)
Bear with me, okay?
CHARLOTTE
Uh…
ALBERT
You, Charlotte Whatever-Your-Last-Name-Is, were meant for today!
(ALBERT turns to CHARLOTTE, and puts his hands on her shoulders)
Don’t let the pressure of what others say about your life choices drown your passions. You can be practical and passionate. Just take it slow. Remember: it’s all a matter of perspective. Those overpriced classes taught you that, right?
CHARLOTTE
(CHARLOTTE laughs)
Yes.
ALBERT
Good! Remember that, okay?
CHARLOTTE
Okay. If all goes to hell, I have forgery as a backup plan!
(ALBERT and CHARLOTTE smile. Stage lights fade to black.)
Curtain.
