Chapter Text
So, how do you feel about The Blue Madonna?
The painting in question is a simple, straightforward portrait of Marilyn Monroe (instead of the other iconic figure, religious or otherwise) lifted from history as it was lifted from its original production. It emulates something that has already been done but everything has been done before and will go on until society collapses.
She’s small within the picture plane, surrounded by four feet of gold on each side. What makes her different from her origin work, other than the dimensions, is that instead of a Barbie-pink for flesh and neon yellow for hair, is that her skin is a dark blue, and the impression of scales on her forehead and cheeks. Her hair is a striking red, still in the perfect coifs of Monroe’s original images. The scales are faint from a distance, as they are played enough so that you can tell whom the person is, but yet coupled with the blue skin and red hair…
Monroe has been changed from a pop-icon into an other, though more precisely, a mutant. She has been morphed into a media darling shapeshifter, Raven Darkholme-Xavier, the artist’s sister. The fact that Darkholme-Xavier can actually change into Monroe is second, compared to the idea that in her natural mutated form, she can still be as glamorous and beautiful as the Hollywood icon.
“She’s done what she’s needed to do, I suppose,” and he offers no other explanation or elaboration.
The sentiment causes a stranger to preen his feathers in second-hand pride as he reads on the train.
She can feel Charles, though she never had an experience with him before; telepaths have tells, which she knows somewhat intimately from time spent with Emma. He’s wearing his circlet to the opening, forgoing a complete suit for a waistcoat and slacks, almost as if he’s trying to paint himself as youthful, vulnerable. She understands his intentions; powers aren’t the only way to manipulate a public, after all.
His sister is beautiful, she thinks, watching the pair more than the work on the walls. Which isn’t to say that the work isn’t interesting, though after a while it becomes tired, and not particularly why she came to the opening in the first place. She knows how to keep to herself, to scope out the ‘competition,’ though Xavier’s anything but.
They have their different realms, never truly able to separate one’s self from their histories, but it’s important, she thinks, knowing that there’s something big from his easy smiles and his ability to reach others.
She keeps to the sidelines and wraps her thoughts up in silk, if there ever was a doubt.
The world continuously talks about his work and his identity, though they’re more interested in who he could be versus the truths he exposes. There’s something powerful about causing his fellow mutants to swell with emotion, particularly if they are one of those who are with spikes or those with fur, anything that immediately marks them as other in a way that isn't openly accepted by their ... dominant society. He's glad that he can make them happy or make them feel honored even if it is a small handful of mutants who look at his work fondly. His job is done when it reaches them, though there's something to be said about being able to be so popular, so in the public's eye, to reach more than those who are able to physically see his work.
The work that he puts out into the world is akin to having his own children, they’re something he has nurtured and raised into something greater than himself.
Blue eyes and blond hair are so ordinary despite the fact that they seem to be the marker of the elite, the ‘better off,’ superior, but yet they are mutations as well. Though how do you compare an under-developed pinky finger, easily removed after birth with a string to bone spikes that push through skin at any extreme emotion?
These are the things he ponders over as he makes new work, as he does research, as he takes off the role he's forced to play in public.
What’s known about Xavier’s workshop is that it resides in the basement of his ancestral home. The different artists and craftsmen he employs are given free housing inside of the mansion if they so desire, in a wing designated solely for that purpose. Xavier provides much more than other artist workshops, contemporary or otherwise, understanding that the people that work for him are more than just employees. He gives them the tools to be artists in their own rights, keeping their workdays short so that they can access the studios for their personal use.
They work on his paintings and serigraphy, but Xavier’s hand is always present enough to make the work feel as if it is something he has created from scratch. He exposes his own screens, though his employees have coated them beforehand. Xavier mixes his own inks though he is not the one who pushes it through the screen. He’s taken to employing more people and designing his own blends of paper instead of purchasing from other mills. He employs as many mutants as he possibly can, which makes his message even more powerful.
Xavier’s office is scattered with scientific and art theory, combining a mass of interests into different projects. His goal is to combine the idea of every mutation being wonderful, and something that should be accepted in mainstream society. He points out even the smallest of mutations that society has either glossed over or elevated as the canon of beauty.
His youthful enthusiasm both towards community building and making work is what will make him special.
Sebastian is a necessary evil, Charles has realized, preferring to work with a fellow mutant, though Sebastian's primary work isn’t even within the art institution, but— he has a single-mindedness about success that makes him the best choice.
It makes more sense to be represented by those of his own kind, though he does understand how it makes him something of a niche. But his contract also allows him to maintain representation from human galleries since Sebastian knows about being profitable. The only gripe he finds is that Sebastian is not shy about his thoughts on telepathic suppression, despite the fact that he's not a psionic and shouldn't regulate other people's abilities.
Sebastian is as paranoid as those who are adamantly anti-mutant and anti-psionic, and it takes a toll on Charles’ emotions if not his mind; it's a different type of stress to always make sure that he's wearing his circlet when he goes to meet with Sebastian, despite having someone come along with him. It settles strangely in the pit of his stomach, having to hide himself from another mutant with invisible abilities. Darwin tends to help him out in this area, coming along to offer a second opinion as well as use his power to draw in any unintentional wandering, making lines and mazes that lead his tendrils towards Darwin's mind instead of Sebastian’s.
He’s thankful for the mail, for direct deposit, for only seeing the man primarily through functions... though he’d never admit it to anyone willingly.
Charles isn’t sure how he feels about The Blue Madonna anymore, though is glad that Raven takes it in stride. It was a sort of homage, not only to those who look different, but to her as an individual, a way to show how much he treasures her for her entirety.
He had always intended it to be a declaration of how he saw her, beautiful no matter what face she had, though the most spectacular in her own frame. She’s given him so much, and nothing can say anything stronger about how he feels, of how high he elevates her no matter what should be happening at the time—
He isn’t sure about how he feels about the article, other than it is more press and more exposure. The quality of writing is good, and there is a neutral tone… but he’s just glad that it is done.
He adjusts his tie as he stands in front of the crowd, slightly nervous as always; the emotions are set back, almost as if he is truly divided from everyone else with the circlet and medication working to the best of their abilities.
It is somewhat upsetting that this is what he needs to do in order to establish credibility, even when he’s merely talking about his work, but he pushes the thought aside as he reminds himself to be thankful for the turnout. There seems to be a decent chunk of new people he has never seen before, and definitely new people with visible mutations, and he makes a mental note to talk to them as soon as he can.
"Our society is bombarded with images, whether we know it or not. Depending on their origin, particularly if they are created from the society we are immersed in, they can be completely constructed from the voices of a few and match those same few's views or appearances. However, as we look around at each other, we're all different, even if we are related to one another.
"My goal as a visual artist is to highlight these differences, to flood the media with images of every type. Skin color is one thing, though not to detract from that separate issue, but when you see a fellow human being with fur or claws or spikes we tend to forget that they are just like us, unless we find ourselves in those appearances that are readily marked as an other.
"Those whom we instantly regard as better than, such as certain celebrities or what have you, can be easily humanized. Their appearances are no different than ours in which their bodies contain particular mutations that are seen as the preferred status, such as hair or eye color. Why is that any different than if someone has a tail or red skin?
"I want to change these perceptions of mutants, of fellow human beings, to make them as common as those who are baseline, or those with invisible mutations."
The crowd gives him applause as he finishes, and he smiles graciously. It feels as if his circlet is buzzing with energy, though he can’t pinpoint why.
There’s something of an uproar a couple of days after the article comes out, in which the internet buzzes with gossip about the newest Magneto tag;
The Blue Madonna has been rendered in a surprisingly large scale, but only in black and blue compared to the original. The scales that compose Xavier’s version are outlined in black, and her skin is a pale robin’s-egg blue. The red that would normally be the color of her hair is now the color of the text over her face,
an alternative 2 playing art
w/the ‘radical chic’ sect
on Daddy’s $$$ funds
And Charles finds that he’s not so much angry at the fact that his work has been criticized, but the fact that it was about Raven.