my hands." The reference to himself as catlike delighted Semy as did any confirmation of himself as a romantic figure. And he was personable, despite a large rump and a square, short-necked body. His straight brown hair, save for a boyish lock that kept dropping over his flat forehead, always was neatly trimmed. In a town where grooming did not extend beyond routine cleanliness, Semy was almost a dude, over-clean and over-groomed. Though the hairless skin of his hands never seemed unclean he was constantly washing them.
Drawing board rectangles on chairs disclosed between oblique angles three large easels, arabesques of bentwood chairs, cluttered palette tables with bouquets of brushes in jars, and a model platform backed by a burlap screen over which hung an old green portiere from someone's attic. A smell of turpentine, linseed oil, and stale smoke permeated the charcoal dusty air. Returning, Semy lifted a canvas from a stack against the wall, examining it intently as if seeking a flaw in a priceless jewel, his manner that of a great connoisseur. "Not bad, not bad at all," he delivered judgment in a tone of great admiration.
Clem felt a warming flow of affection. "Not bad—it's damned good!" He had put the canvas aside to paint over when he needed a stretcher that size. Semy's approval revealed it in a new light. After not seeing it for months it didn't seem bad now at all. It looked as though it might have been done by Cezanne, or maybe in some parts, Pascin.
Semanter Klug replaced the canvas gently without further comment and sidled among the objects in the room, stopping in front of a plaster copy of Michelangelo's portrait of Giuliano de Medici on a neutral grey pedestal. His long hairless fingers caressed the surface of the plaster copy. His voice was clear and positive in a declarative statement. "This is great art. All that marvelous detail in the hair."
Clem took tacks from his mouth and turned to look. "Yes, Angelo was a great technician. But there's more to art than technique. It's not enough to copy a head. The human figure and all nature are composed of geometric truths. It's those truths that matter in art, not representation per se. Artists now have to be scientists to keep up with the world."
The imperious Medici head seemed to regard Clem ironically. Clem turned away uneasily. Semy's face should be painted in gouache. Flat, and there was scarcely any modeling where his thick nostrils joined the small flat nose. Yellow ochre and Venetian red with a lot of white.
