The sigh broadens Louis' smile. Amused, charmed, both.
"Yes, impressionism," Louis confirms. "Before he moved into abstraction in the 1940s, which led him to his development of what he called the multiform."
They are neither of them obliged to stop with Louis, though he has ceased to keep pace. Slipped one hand into his pocket as he admires the painting. The other hand strays, reaching for Lestat out of old, old habit, palm sliding along his shoulder, his bicep in a loose hold. They are in New Orleans, they are wandering a warehouse, Louis has seen something that strikes him as beautiful and means to make his case for it.
"He was a fascinating man," comes softer. Of course there is something that resonates for Louis in a figure like Rothko. Depressive and melancholic, critical of the reception of his work. Louis' fingers draw Lestat a step closer. "I'd been hoping to acquire something of his for myself."
A beat, then—
"They sell very well. Around eighty million at auction, sometimes more."
no subject
"Yes, impressionism," Louis confirms. "Before he moved into abstraction in the 1940s, which led him to his development of what he called the multiform."
They are neither of them obliged to stop with Louis, though he has ceased to keep pace. Slipped one hand into his pocket as he admires the painting. The other hand strays, reaching for Lestat out of old, old habit, palm sliding along his shoulder, his bicep in a loose hold. They are in New Orleans, they are wandering a warehouse, Louis has seen something that strikes him as beautiful and means to make his case for it.
"He was a fascinating man," comes softer. Of course there is something that resonates for Louis in a figure like Rothko. Depressive and melancholic, critical of the reception of his work. Louis' fingers draw Lestat a step closer. "I'd been hoping to acquire something of his for myself."
A beat, then—
"They sell very well. Around eighty million at auction, sometimes more."
There's the art dealer.