Scene: The year is 1460. We are in the workshop of the painter Jacopo Bellini, who is with his son, Gentile.
Gentile: What are all these melon balls doing here?
Jacopo: We had some people over last night.
G: (Popping a melon ball in his mouth) "We"?
J: Use a toothpick.
G: Who? You and Giovanni?
J: Yes. Your brother and I showed some paintings.
G: That's called an opening. Who did you invite?
J: Whom.
G: (With an edge) Whom did you invite?
J: Clergy. It was last-minute. Giambellino and I...
G: (Interrupting) Spare me the loving diminutive: call him Giovanni.
J: Go easy on those melon balls.
G: It's hurtful to be excluded.
J: No one's excluding you.
G: Right. I'm sorry I'm not the greatest Venetian master of the 15th Century.
J: (Conciliatory) Gentile....
G: Your favoritism is obvious.
J: Giovanni's specialty is Madonnas. The Church wants a Madonna.
G: Who doesn't? It's not as if I can't handle paint.
J: Of course you can.
G: So let me do the Madonna.
J: (Long pause) Gentile, your work has a certain...hesitancy.
G: My lack of assurance is bashfulness. What's wrong with bashful paintings?
J: Nothing. But your brother...
G: (Interrupting) Yes, my younger, illegitimate brother.
J: Your name means "kind," yet sometimes I wonder....
G: It's hard to feel kind when my emotional and professional needs aren't met.
J: Perhaps you would like to help me with a portrait of Doge Malipiero.
G: What's Giovanni doing?
J: A Crucifixion.
G: Christ.
J: Obviously....
G: I know the subject of the Crucifixion. What I'm saying is that He's a bit more important than Doge Malipiero.
J: (Spreads his hands helplessly) What do you want from me?
G: Love, respect, decent commissions, my own living quarters, use of the boat Friday evenings....
J: If only you were as bashful as your pictures.
G: I'm the eldest son. Last month Giovanni was at work on the "Sacred Conversation." You asked me to re-paint the kitchen.
J: And you did a poor job.
G: You said "yellow."
J: I said "ochre." Your mother is unhappy.
G: Have you noticed how all Giovanni's Madonnas resemble Aunt Elsa?
J: Untrue.
G: Look closely.
J: I see gentle mystery.
G: The mystery is why he's fixated on a relative. A blood relative.
J: What are you implying? Stop gobbling melon and be candid.
G: You want candor?
J: I do.
G: Maybe the weak link isn't me.
(Jacopo stares at him)
G: Maybe it's you.
J: I am your father. The patriarch.
G: Try being a little less patriarchal and we might get along better.
J: You disappoint me.
G: Tell me something I don't know.
J: Not as a painter. As a son.
G: You know, psychology's not really your strong suit...
J: (Interrupting) I've tried to guide you....
G: Into oblivion.
J: But you are impatient. You must give yourself time.
G: Time? I'm 31. Statistically, I'll be dead in six years.
J: Think not of your honor on this earth.
G: That doesn't really work for me. Call me crazy, but I'm not a big believer in resurrection.
J: You liken yourself to Christ.
G: Who else is there?
J: You blaspheme.
G: Why don't we get Giovanni a big ermine cape and jeweled scepter? Then he can be doge and paint himself. You'd love that, wouldn't you?
J: Don't be absurd.
G: No, really. I've heard you glorify him every day of his life. And I've had it up to here. Next time you have an opening,
I expect to be invited. In the meantime...
J: (Interrupting) In the meantime, you'll paint the kitchen.
G: I already did.
J: Then re-paint it. Ochre.
