The Battle Between Art and Science by Christopher James
My wife Sarah gave up art to focus on Project: Raise Money For Future Kids.
Said Project concluded unhappily.
Sarah returned to art.
She painted nudes with long, thick, virile-looking penises.
She painted four of one man.
I called it the Emasculate Your Husband Series.
The model bought all four paintings and commissioned four more.
What can a man do with eight naked paintings of himself?
I was unable to have children. That’s why the Project failed.
The doctor told me it was a hereditary thing, which made no sense.
I can’t imagine wanting to look at yourself naked eight times over.
Sarah, against odds, got pregnant.
“Never stop believing,” she said.
A son was born.
Sarah gave up art again. She snapped her paintbrushes in two.
Wasn’t that unnecessarily melodramatic?
The boy had a suspiciously long, thick, virile-looking-for-a-baby penis.
And blue eyes. I googled Dominant and Recessive Genes in Eye Color.
Google proved confusingly inconclusive.
He grew into a beautiful, smart, charming young man.
I needed a trustworthy paternity test.
He was tone deaf, and we sang the same wrong notes to the Rolling Stones, who we both loved.
He sided with me against his mother in thinking Pollack wasn’t a real painter. He said you’d find better artworks on Van Gogh’s floorboards.
He studied Advanced Math at uni and, just like me, he fell one-thousand percent in love with a crazy artist-type.
He said he knew she was his opposite in everything, but he loved her, and that was all that counted.
Which was enough for me.
Christopher James lives in Jakarta, Indonesia. He has been published in the Times, Camera Obscura and was one of the recent Tin House Plotto winners. He is working on a novel.