Collaboration of sorts

Hello everyone, my name is Eric Phoenix and there is something to be said about opportunities and how they can spontaneously manifest out of thin air.

It’s in these special events that leave an impression on one’s soul. They don’t happen very often, so when they do you better make damn sure to take advantage of them. They can create long-lasting bonds between two vastly different beings.

The opportunity I’m referring to is one of epic proportions. Not only was it a chance to collaborate with someone I held in such high regard it was also a dream date with the one and only Cassidy Sinclair.

Who you might ask is Cassidy Sinclair, well let me start by introducing you to the most creative and artistic mind on this side of the planet, make that this side of the universe for that matter. She is by far the most talented painter of our generation.

Cassidy has provided all with visually stimulating gifts. A generous mixture of two true expressionist styles, cubism, and surrealism. Her body of work virtually whispers with the ghosts of Salvador Dali, Pablo Picasso, Lyubov Popova, and Alexandra Exter.

Her genius spread across every canvas she graced with vibrant colour. Each piece evoked a hint of arousal. Her magnificent bold brush strokes could captivate your senses, one by one. They were marvelous dreams that oozed sex appeal. Feeding on every fantasy, tugging at you, and bathing the masses with sexual desire.

Currently, there’s no one as compared to the vastness of her brilliance. With her latest exhibit titled “The Celebration of the Male Orgasm,” she has garnered international attention from all the top artist associations around the world.

Oh, and here’s a little extra information I may have omitted ... I have been such a huge supporting fan of Cassidy and her work. She is not only the brightest most complete artist, in my opinion, but she’s also a woman with breathtaking beauty, elegance, and soulful sensuality. And besides having all the rightfully smooth curves to her anatomically correct repertoire, she was by far the most genuine person, I’ve ever met.

So, here we are at the beginning of this remarkably interesting, once in a lifetime, not in a million years, snowball's chance in hell ... alright, alright a bit overkill, but you understand my point. The how to this story doesn’t matter, it’s the when.

A week ago, a friend had asked if I would attend her image arts show at none other than my old high school, Western Tech. A place where some pleasant memories were formed, and others haunt me like ghosts within its sacred walls. Little did I know that my life was about to get insane.

And away I went. Finding myself strolling through the corridors of the second-largest high school in the country. Passing the many framed galleries in my travels that housed the faint photographs of students and years past. I rounded the corner towards the host room and couldn’t believe my eyes.

There she stood, Cassidy Sinclair ready to breach the entrance to my friend’s exhibit. Stuck in a trance and frozen in my tracks, I hesitated to continue my momentum forward, until a nudge from behind pushed my body in that direction.

Once inside, the anxiety had me playing a bit of hide and seek, ducking through the linear sections and partitions trying to get lost in the crowd. And inevitably, we’d be standing at the same image. She glanced at me across space between us, and I gazed blankly at the image pretending not to notice, (if you asked me what the picture held I couldn’t tell you).

Shuffling intimately closer, she said, “Hey aren’t you Eric Phoenix?” like a deer set on transport lights, I nervously responded, “YES!” quite loudly, almost in the same tone you would use at a club trying to outmatch the DJ’s music mix.

Cassidy burst out giggling, spitting, and spilling some of the sponsored sample wine from her lips. I calmly repeated “yes...my name is Eric Phoenix and it’s nice to meet you, Cassidy Sinclair,” taking her stretched hand, smiling at her, and shook. “You know who I am,” she said, looking stunned and surprised.

“Of course, I do ... I’ve been an admirer of your work for some time, Cassidy.” She sweetly curled her mouth smiling with me and I now confidently held out my arm like a gentleman of days past and she held me all night as we casually floated throughout the exhibit pausing to gather the scene of each wonderful piece hanging in the gallery, sparking inspirational conversations between out two worlds.

And what seemed like forever hidden inside our bubble was gone in a flash, the event had come to its conclusion and for a moment we felt robbed like time had passed us by. She had her scheduled shows with promoters and organizers, while I had some miniature ones of my own.

Emptiness sunk in when stepping towards the exit, Cassidy suddenly stopped, stood in front of me, taking both my hands in hers, and asked me if I would join her for dinner at her studio on the fourth of May.

My gaze soft when looking upon her emerald eyes and answered her that I would be honoured to have dinner with her that night. Before escorted to her limousine, Cassidy leaned in and whispered, “let us be inspired.”

I never had a chance to ask her what she meant, but I wasn’t going to miss that night for anything.

Six weeks later ...

On the same night, I was to have dinner with Cassidy, the city held its annual block party; The Streets Come Alive Arts Festival, and since it was held near her studio decided to have a go, before meeting up with her.

Perusing through the waves of brush strokes and colourfully painted canvases. I watched the masses flock along narrow paths, trouncing within the splintered portals of the horde, and there she was in the distance.

The distinguishably bright pink neon sign. It wasn’t hard to miss, not to mention the name and how it truly stood out, “C1ass Studios,” if you looked closely, actually read Class One Studios. She had the designer graphically replace the letter L for the number one.

Nervously rocking myself back and forth outside of Cassidy’s studio. The depth of the space was deceiving, and I could feel an onslaught of vibrant energy rushed across my skin. The kind that leaves a permanent impression, like a tattoo.

One last deep breath then entered the building. Trying my best at acting casual while still reeling about what may come. I saw a shadow rustling from side to side and upon initial thought, maybe she was working on something.

Suddenly Cassidy poked out from the landing above and excitedly said, “awesome you’re here,” then requested, “come on up.” Climbing the stainless steel steps the picture had become clearer. At the rising, the entire second floor was open concept, the kitchen greeted you at the top, all gloss cabinetry with a large island in the centre.

To the immediate left an entertainment section, a Rock-ola Vinyl Jukebox sat in the far corner, an Epson Home Cinema 2250 projector hanging from a slot off the ceiling, accompanied by a PS5 console and a six-foot-long retractable movie screen that also hung ten feet adjacent from the projector.

At first glance, her place had it all, and then until I walked past the Greek style pillar and fell in love with the place. The space was incredible, a wonder for motivation and inspiration.

Cassidy saw my jaw dragging the floor and danced up to me, offering a glass of Merlot. In all the commotion running through my mind, I stopped and took notice of her. She was hypnotically stunning, she glowed with such an energy.

Taking a sip from my glass, “mmm ... wow this is nice,” savouring the hint of sweet fruitiness. I had to ask, “where did you get the wine?” right before she could answer I saw the gift pack from Bright Cellars resting on the kitchen counter, next to it lay a book called “The Food Almanac” written by Miranda York.

“A friend of mine introduced me to their website and I’ve been ordering from them ever since,” she answered kindly. “The food should arrive shortly,” she said walking towards the jukebox. My intention wasn’t to capture her elegance as she strolled away, but her curves filled my senses.

Pressing a few buttons, the machine clicked for a moment then a sax ripped into my chest. It was a song by Christina Aguilera, one I‘ve heard before, Haunted Heart. The swooning instruments slapped me across the face, but it was the look over Cassidy’s that caught me by surprise.

She inched forward into the space and that’s when it occurred to me. Draped on the floor was a twenty-by-twenty sheet of canvas she had rolled out when I first arrived.

Cassidy stood there looking at me, then emptied her glass of Merlot before calling to me with an invitational sway of her finger.

What happens next can be categorized as a sensual collaboration ... stay tuned for our exhibit.