Telling Tales

The young girls of the Opera ballet clustered around Cecile Jammes, both terrified and enthralled at the thought of the ghost that might lurk outside the door. La Sorelli, dressed for her speech but too terrified to leave her dressing room, contented herself with crossing the wooden ring that she wore for luck. Not that she actually believed it was lucky; that would be silly and superstitious.

Still, it couldn't hurt.

"Joseph Buquet says that he looks like a walking skeleton, with fire set into deep pits where his eyes should be!" Jammes mock whispered. The others listening with rapt attention, though they'd all long since learned the tale by heart. "He has very little hair: only a few dark locks around the crown of his head!" The girls winced, as if the thought of having no hair in which to tie ribbons in was too ghastly to consider. "Also–"

"Joseph Buquet should learn to bite his tongue..." came another voice, it’s softness a strange contrast to the dramatic tone of Jammes speech. The fairer girl turned, so to see who had interrupted her well-rehearsed monologue.

"Oh, Meg Giry... What do you know of the ghost?"

Meg looked suddenly terrified. "I mustn't say. I promised my mother... The ghost doesn't like being talked about."

"And how does she know that?"

"I–I can't tell!"

The girls crowded around Meg, making threats and promises by turn, and she finally saw the futility in keeping her silence. "She's his box keeper, the ghost's."

"Does he really go there?"

"Yes, but mother has never seen him, only heard his voice. She says he must be invisible."

"But Joseph Buquet says–"

"Joseph Buquet lies! The ghost cannot be seen!" At this time, Meg seemed to realise she may have revealed too much, and retreated to a settee in the corner, praying that the others would cease their questioning. Happily, the rest of the ballerinas seemed to find the idea of a skeleton in dress clothes far more interesting than an invisible voice, and sat around Jammes as she began to recount the misfortunes of the chorus master.


Okay, so that’s not a quote from Leroux. I tried to find a section of the first chapter that would encompass what I was trying to illustrate, but, short of riddling the text with an unseemly amount of ellipses, I failed. So, I wrote that little scene instead. _{Hopefully, I'll be forgiven for a bit of artistic liscense.}

I’ve been working on this painting for such a long time… I really was asking for trouble, having so many figures in such a small space. There’re a few perspective issues, but I like to think it turned out alright.

(In case anyone hasn’t read Leroux, the dark-haired girl on the sofa is Meg Giry, and the blonde standing next to the door is La Sorelli. The ‘story-teller’ is Cecile Jammes.)

Sorelli detail: [link]
Ballet girls detail: [link]
Meg detail: [link]


Acrylic on canvas, 16x20 inches, 12 hours spread over three weeks




_{'bout time I posted another painting, isn't it?}