Member-only story
The Painter of Realities
By Francis Ivanovich.
(Chapter 1)
Joseph Franz woke up feeling anxious.
It was still dark outside. He checked his phone: not even 5 a.m. Yet. Through the broken blinds — which never opened fully again — he saw the pale, cold light from the streetlamp outside staining the wall of his small rented apartment. He lived on the second floor of a boarding house for single men, on a hidden street between Botafogo and Laranjeiras.
For months now, he had been waking up around 4:30 a.m., with the same heavy feeling in his chest, as if a block of stone was pressing him down. He worked from home, designing ads and social media posts for small businesses. It paid the rent and just enough for food until the next month. One of his clients, a chain of small grocery stores inside middle-class condominiums in Barra da Tijuca, paid him in cash and also sent him food and cleaning supplies every month, which helped him save a little.
Franz hated digital work more and more, but the thought of getting a regular job — commuting every day, dealing with a boss and constant demands — made him feel sick. Working from home gave him the illusion of freedom, even if he disliked the work itself.
What he really wanted was to live from his painting. Several of his acrylic canvases were stacked in a corner of…
