“Turn your head a little bit” he said while carefully sketching the smooth curve of her shoulder.
“That’s it. Hold it.” he whispered as if he’d just made an important discovery.
“But, how about…”
“Don’t! No talking!” he interrupted her while softly rubbing his hand on the paper to exaggerate the shadows and lose the lines. Rossi Mono, that was his name. No one knows much about him but everyone knows him. Well, it sounds a bit confusing I agree, but that is the situation. Let me start from the beginning so you’d get to know him better.
Romo, that’s the name he uses when signing his sketches. The unfortunate Romo was born in Milano some years ago. First thing, his father was shot and killed, as the newspaper said, because they couldn’t ever find the body. So Romo was going to grow up without a father. Well, no one said life was easy. When he turned to four, his mother started working at a night club where she spent most of her days and sometimes nights too. In the mean while, little Romo was staying with his grandfather, a rather old man with a genuine smile and a warm heart. People called him Alessandro Massimo, but for Romo he was simply Alessio.
A few years later, when Romo was turning to nine, he was ready to blow the candles on his birthday cake. However, he never did. His mother did not come home that night and the night after that and after that. Have you ever seen a kid staring out from his window into the distance with the expectation of something… or anything? Well, Romo was growing up rather quickly as words such as worthless, unlovable and pain were becoming familiar to him. He’d ask questions about family, love or God, but never get a definite answer. I told you, no one said life was easy and his life was turning into a heavy burden as he grew up.
One night, something magical happened. Something even Romo himself didn’t fully understand but accepted as if he’d been waiting for it for a lifetime. While he was struggling to sleep and was being haunted by vague memories of his parents as usual, he heard his grandfather entering his room.
“Get up! Get up!” he said in a hurry while setting up a big canvas near the bed.
“What’s going on?” wondered Romo.
“Have you ever pictured a dream?” asked Alessio and carried on without waiting for a real answer.
“First, let’s put some star dust here and there. Now, take this magical crayon.” said in a friendly voice. “Go ahead, it won’t bite. I promise.”
Romo took the crayon and attempted to draw the door which was just a few feet away from him. However, it proved to be quite a challenging task. So he threw the crayon away in a fury after a few tries. Alessio kissed him on the forehead and started laughing.
“I can’t draw. I don’t want it.” Romo complained while getting ready to go to bed again in great disappointment.
“Get up you Rossi Mono. You couldn’t draw because I haven’t taught you the trick yet.” said Alessio almost in a whispering tone. Dramatisation was one thing the grandfather was very good at and he knew Romo was all ears now.
“Look” he said and drew a line. “You can draw a line, can’t you?” asked Alessio and Romo nodded his head. “Well, then you are almost ready. Now, look again.” He drew another connecting line and another one and another one and there it was infront of them: a rectangle.
“And a circle perhaps?” So, a gentle circular movement created a door knob. “Hey Romo, go ahead and draw a line over there” said Alessio while pointing the sketchboard. That night, Romo took that crayon and started drawing and never let go ever since.
Every night, he’d get a mini drawing lesson from Alessio. “Everything starts with geometry, even humans Romo” he’d say. “Circles, squares, triangles and all the rest of the family. Once you are able to draw these, just distort them in your way, twist them a little bit if necessary, give them a flavour so they become yours. It is called a style.”
One morning, when he was in his late teens, Alessio took him to a special place where people would gather together to draw a mise en scene. So, there he was curiously setting up his sketching board and gazing around with his childish green eyes. A beautiful lady with a thin white cloak appeared on the stage out of nowhere almost like a fairy. Her movements were so smooth and relaxed that she almost seemed oblivious to her surroundings. While she was lighting a cigarette, she gently let her cloak float in the air and then completely let it go. Romo was stunned or rather petrified as it was the first time he was in presence of a nude woman. The eyes, the breasts and… so many curves were blending smoothly and in such a fascinating harmony. “So, that’s a woman” he murmured.
“Well, that’s what they call them. Now, draw. Give her life.” whispered Alessio in his ear.
Romo was lost among the lines of well-rounded lips and charming hands and intriguing looks of her eyes within a few minutes.
“Romo, be fair. Work on the neck and shoulders more. There are two things that are unique to women. The smooth curve of her neck which runs down to her shoulder gently and in a fascinating harmony. And second…” he continued almost in silence and sighed as if he’d been longing for a woman “…her scent. It is what makes her who she is. Now, feel her scent. When it feels right, we simply love them Romo. No rational explanation necessary.”
Romo never used any colors. Some artists criticized him heavily for not using them but he didn’t believe in colors. For him, it was black and white and a million different tones in between these two spectrums. Sometimes, people ask him whether the women he draw are really that beautiful and he always smiles and gives the same genuine reply “they are always more beautiful in my own world. If you’d seen them with my own eyes, you’d fall in love with every one of them. If only you’d smelled them in my mind, you’d never smell another rose.”
Now you know just enough about Romo. Just like you know only enough about life.
Fire'n Light - A World in Stories 