Private An Ethically Aggressive Disagreement

[Amur]

Ord Canfre, Institute for the Ethics of Art Criticism
Theme​

Amur felt out of place here as she walked around the halls of the campus, Sith weren't known as intellectuals and she knew that the Empire she served for was one that would have looked upon this place and destroyed it and burned down every iota of seditious thought. Yet she decided to come here. Well it wasn't a decision purely made on her own as the bubbly witch that hanged around her proved. The institute was holding a celebration of over a millennia of critique as it phrased and despite the rather pretentious name the institute had there was a lot more then initially implied. It was a study of the power that art had in expressing discontent, the nature of critique over the years and even a study of how critique through media has changed with even an exhibit dedicated to memetic culture and evolution through the Holonet.

Walking through the annuls of this place was like traveling through a time machine for Amur. It reminding her of a much younger version of herself who would flock to a place like this on a campus in Corellia simply because she was bored and had nothing better to do. Being here was just digging up a lot of old dirt that seeped in through the cracks and crevices. Gazing upon the paintings and posters or just written text and calligraphy. An analytical mind absorbing each detail and taking the time to appreciate the individual strokes of some paintings. A part of her dying to just reach out and touch canvases so she could try to divinate the emotion that was being channeled through each artist. She had a feeling there was a lot of pain, and frustration in each one. Old knowledge that was laying dormant now coming to the forefront, feeling just as fresh the day there were first memorized. Especially as she looked at the dating of some of the paintings and tried to correlate it to the historical time periods, trying to see if she could link it to some particular event or trend she studied in the several history courses she took in college. The mind of the Sith had a more Correlian flavor today.

She stopped for a few moments in front of an iconic image for several seconds knowing that the original carefully preserved printing was one of the pride and joys of the institute. Looking at it she couldn't help but mentally sigh and concede it's point. She didn't choose the empire she served, it chose her. She could feel the stares that burrowed into the back of her skull. She could sense the disapproval, the silent judgement by some of the patrons in the crowd. She didn't need to read minds to know that some were likely thinking she was an affront to everything this place stood for. Today was proving to be an odd day for her. Normally she would feel anger creeping in from the silent sentence she was dealt. Most days she just simply didn't care. This day though she felt mellow. Perhaps she should have just worn some stupid karking disguise for this one, stupid. Though now she couldn't help but resent every eye that preyed upon her, as they now began to form an overwhelming barrage into her psyche as they carried with them a thousand little thoughts and assumptions that were all just completely devoid of context and she just wanted it to stop.

The Sith snapped herself out of her stupor as she realized she had been standing in place for at least a minute if not more frozen in place, and that now every single person in the room was now looking at her, a sense of fear now inside them. Did she have another outburst with the Force? In that moment all Amur wanted was to just be alone in some void for a while. Still having enough sense to turn off the modulator for her helmet she would whisper to Kalanda "I'm... gonna... go" before taking off and wandering through the facility desperate to just find a single unoccupied area that could just house only her and her thoughts.

Kalanda Tishire Sakadi Marathi Sinvala

 

[Sakadi Marathi Sinvala]

​

The normally attentive Jedi Master completely failed to recognize the presence of the Sith in the building. The brightly lit white hallways made her lavender complexion look pale and unhealthy. Although she couldn't exactly blame the lighting for her ghastly appearance. No, her current state of being reflected exactly how she felt. The entire swirl of negative emotions was catalyzed by the lone painting across the room, the work that had brought her to this place to begin with.​

The Fall of Sinvala.​

It was the culmination of lies fabricated around her own life and 'death' that had given birth to this painting. It depicted the young singer herself, all of her features and 'perfect' imperfections caught in a single picture. She was beautiful and captivating, but only Sakadi could tell that the painted woman was an empty vessel, living a life of well-fabricated lies told to her by her parents. Staring at her past self made her feel sick and miserable. It was like looking at everything that was wrong with her. All starting with what the painter had put an emphasis on. Her voice.​

The near-perfectly captured image of Sakadi Marathi Sinvala had a large, gaping hole in her neck. Her 'cause of death', according to what her parents told the media. The painting was made shortly after, and became a symbol against injustice and crime on Coruscant, the planet where she had been shot. In turn, it made the dead celebrity a figurehead of anti-violence movements on Coruscan's upper levels, where her name still had some fame up till this day.​

Looking at the painting was looking at what the young and naive Sakadi had left behind. And while it had all been for a good cause, the Jedi saw nothing but pain and suffering in her fabricated death and past.​

Sakadi sat down on one of the benches placed in the white hall. She was the only one present in this part of the museum-like institute. She wasn't fond of having people beside her when the subjects were rather personal. And nothing was more personal than her past captured in a single painting.​

Kalanda Tishire Amur

 

[Kalanda Tishire]

When Amur had offered the idea of visiting an art museum, Kalanda wasn't sure how to tell her friend that being blind, she literally couldn't see the artwork; but given how Amur talked about this place it sounded costly, so she couldn't bring herself to tell her friend that. She wasn't sure what the heck she was supposed to be looking at frankly, given what shapes she could make out seemed like random imagery without much sense. She was entirely out of the loop, which probably didn't help with the fact she couldn't see the art before her. What did they call it? The history of Memery? Mimeme? It sounded artsy and unnecessary, which meant Kalanda automatically blocked it from her mind. There was a cat she was inspecting, and it seemed to be entering lightspeed, but it was shaped like a loaf of bread, or a box. What was it trying to say? She was trying to look introspective, elegant; essentially trying to fit in, though she was doing a poor job at that.

She turned to find Amur, wishing to ask her friend for help in looking at the piece, only to see the situation with Amur had changed. There was a growing tension within her friend, coiled up and ready to explode out at any point. There was a rage that dwelt inside her, much like a volcano about to go active. What was going on? How could she have missed this. Kalanda reached out towards Amur slowly, hoping to perhaps alleviate the pressure before the Sith exploded. Before she could, Amur's gaze met Kalanda's own, and the woman spoke. "I'm... gonna... go." "Amu-" Then she was gone, the Sith disappearing back into the crowd, as Kalanda tried in vain to pursue her. With the crowds that seemed to spring up in Amur's wake, Kalanda was slowed drastically, as she watched in distress as her friend disappeared in the crowd of people. The art exhibt was going to have to wait now, as Kalanda continued to move past people and began to search for her friend. So much for date night it seemed.


Sakadi Marathi Sinvala Amur