the hidden value of the arts “Allie,” Anna said as she backed away from the door. “I want to show you something.” She led me to a back room on the opposite side of the kitchen. Inside, a large painting hung in the center of the back wall. I gasped at the sight of it. Then my eyes circled around, horrified. Jetting out from the upper right hand corner of the painting, an enormous brick and steel structure protruded into a peaceful scene, its dark reds and grays contrasting sharply with the bright green, blue, and yellow of the lush landscape it overtook. In its wake it left storms and devastation—withered plants that seemed to cry out for sunshine. “Do you know what it is?” I nodded. “The Academie.” “Did Bryan show you this?” I shook my head. “He painted it, almost a year ago now.” I shook my head again. “He never mentioned that he painted…” “Our society doesn’t value the arts, so The Academie doesn’t either. This is the last thing he painted, before he put his brushes away.
