“Nope. Nope. Double nope.” I exclaimed in exasperation as I frantically scanned the clothes in my wardrobe. I’d gotten a once in a lifetime opportunity to see the works of “The Clay Duvall,” courtesy of my best friend, Nabi as my birthday gift. I had screamed so hard for minutes on end, that my throat was still sore from my exertions.
Nabi knew how enamoured I am with the works of Clay Duvall, who’s renowned for his peculiar artistry of strictly coffee-based works. And if there was anything that made me as happy as nature, it was undisputedly coffee. And securing a ticket to see the works of this man up close was a dream come true for me. I just had to find something befitting to wear.
After two more hours of bulldozing through my closet, I settled on something comfortable. I couldn’t afford to feel self-conscious and get distracted when I had all those delish artworks to consume. Okay, I did don a beret to the side of my head to give myself that artistic look. Cliché I know, but I couldn’t help it. Had to look the part.
An hour later, I was at the exhibit. I didn’t know what to expect since Duvall’s new line hadn’t been showcased to the world yet. I was curious about what new art he had whipped up in that coffee-saturated mind of his. Giddy with excitement, I nearly skipped as I walked. Steaming coffee of your desired taste was offered at the front desk to sip on while you walked and I almost cried at the sheer luxury of it all.
Sipping my coffee, I made my way to the first exhibit, It was an oil painting of a waterfall, which was flowing with rich coffee. The title of the work was “Nirvana” and I couldn’t agree more with the display of people of all colours and shades surrounding the waterfall's bank with their cupped hands, sipping coffee with their eyes closed but with a look of sheer ecstasy on their faces. How Duvall was able to picture the sheer emotions of the people filled my heart with such warmth even as I took a sip of my cup.
The message wasn’t lost on me. No matter our skin colour race or belief, we all had a similar look when we drank coffee. Bliss. Happiness. Fulfilment. It was a unity that only coffee could give and I moved on from it quickly as I couldn’t afford to shed a tear when I was still at my first artwork.
The next work I looked at was a mosaic art of a light skinned woman caught in her art of dancing. The background was midnight blue and the woman’s skirts swished, and her eyes were alight with happiness. But I wondered why. And most of all, how did this relate to coffee? Then I looked closer and gasped. It was her eyes. The image in her eyes reflected a cup of coffee. The detailing of her eyes that made it appear like her pupils were actual cups of coffee, almost had me reeling in amazed disbelief.
The title was “Saleem’s Gratification.” I wasn’t sure what it meant but I guessed that whatever was behind Saleem dancing so boisterously, it had to be the hope of gratifying herself with coffee later on. Beautiful was all I muttered as I passed on to the next exhibit in a daze.
The next exhibit was a life-sized art of an intricately sculpted coffee plant. It was huge and hanging beautifully on its branches were carefully adorned coffee cups. This made me smile as it wasn’t hard to understand this one. It symbolized the growth and love of coffee worldwide. I looked at the bottom to see the title. “Infinite.” Coffee was a plant that would grow and never die. And no one could have termed it more appropriately.
After looking at more exhibits, including another life-sized sculpture of a coffee cup with emanating steam, I was baffled. How Duvall managed to suspend the steams above the cup was an amazement to me. After mesmerizing myself with the other artworks and of course drinking more cups of coffee in between, the knowledge of how much love and emotion was put into each work left me touched and on the brink of tears.
Towards the end, we were gifted with the presence of the artist himself. Clay Duvall, humble as ever, bowed to us and went about shaking our hands smiling gratefully at us. He got to mine and I was so grateful that I wasn’t so starstruck that I couldn’t string up a sentence. I said in a few words how immensely appreciative of his beautiful works and he smiled again, mouthingthank you as he patted my hand and went to the next equally ecstatic spectator.
I went home feeling all shades of satisfied. The pictures I took were going to be treasured forever and I swore to myself that I wasn’t going to wash the hand The Clay Duvall touched for a week at least. It was an exhibit I would never forget. I closed my eyes with a smile on my face, hoping that coffee dreams were waiting for me on the other side.
