The Artist

Let me paint your mind, I want you to listen to the colours, the sounds they make as they melt into my canvass. Each colour has a personality, some blend well and complement one another and some tend to conceal and stand out on their own. Let me look inside and see which colours you have grown more accustomed to.  Yes, I know there’s paint on my fingers, hands, face, feet and hair; it’s only because I have to immerse myself in what I paint, feel every stroke come from within me and to understand that every line, smudge and dot are essential.

If you watch me closely, as I watch you, you would notice how pieces of me are escaping onto the canvass. Tiny intangible threads pulled from my head stitching the painting onto the canvass.

This is my state of meditation when all I hear are the voices of my paintbrushes that make all the songs in my head come alive. Those mellow tunes of sunlight against my cheek or the feel of grass underneath my calloused feet.

You stare at me expectantly not knowing what this painting will look like once it is complete, are you afraid to see what your mind looks like on canvass?

Are you afraid that I have amplified your flaws?  But flaws are what completes us!

Cracks in our lips, scars on our eyebrows and freckles on our skin; make us who we are, differentiate us from everyone else.

I see past all of this, I see the flecks of light in your eyes ignited by the sun; the innocence that resonates from them. You have soft emotions; I’m trying to magnify them by using these light shades of ochre and mauve, in the hopes that people will see what I see in you. That even for a second they may understand the feelings I couldn’t express.

When people ask me for the story behind this painting, I’ll say: I wanted to show the pain and magic inside someone’s head, and how captivated I was by it.

Then again, I wonder if they’d see past the painting and notice the painters tear stained cheeks and melancholy eyes.


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