7 Feb 2022, 03:26
You call THAT art?
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Simon loved painting, drawing, art in general. Sher had been doing it for almost four years, but she was pretty good at it. 'Naturally gifted," the art teacher would say.
Simon's first encounter and the thing that piqued her interest in art was her friend Sam. They could paint anything and everything that you could think of- and they did it well. So Simon signed up for art club and learned the fundamentals, and they were pretty quick at learning it. Soon, they had surpassed even Sam in art skills and proportions, which made Sam bitter, but that was a whole other issue.
Simon was now walking across the grounds, bottle of water in one hand, sketchbook tucked under her armpit. She usually came here to draw the animals there- squirrels, birds. She couldn't draw humans for shite- though she would never admit that to anyone. She sat down behind a tree, making sure to check if there was another on the other side. She's made the mistake once and wasn't willing to talk to anyone at the moment.
Well, not until she saw another first year, who was painting and had paint all over her hands. Apparently, it was pretty common for people to paint here, so Simon decided to talk to them. Be a bit friendly, make some friends.
But the thing is, once she approached her, she saw her painting. It may have been a fine drawing to an outsider, pretty even, but to Simon it was hideous! Her eyes scanned over the paper before saying "What is that?" and raising an eyebrow. "Can't be anything real, that's for sure." Simon wrinkled her nose in disgust. Simon tilted her head to see if it would become distinguishable, but no- it was still bad. She may as well start over.
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19 Feb 2022, 07:28
You call THAT art?
@Simon Corbin
The harsh fingers hurt themselves in the process of clutching the brush as it began colouring the sheet. The features on the pretty face scrunched. The drawing papers were blamed for their incapability to bring out the creative essence within her. Glaring at the accused sheets was the blonde, struggling to beautify the chaotic mess.
Hours spent resulting in the tons of brutally crushed papers behind her. Drained its liquid out in the girl's process of creating an art piece was the paint bottles. Spatters of colours all over her oversized shirt, her pants, her skin and even her hair. The option to copy paste the idea from her head to paper was all she wishes but it's nowhere near possibility.
Where is the artist she has known before? lost and in search of her! Enough it is! The postures changed. The papers resting positions changed. Blame on hair too, it's now tied up. Gritting her teeth, the girl flung all the brushes away from her where her eyebrows crooked at the scattered brushes. Sensing some problems with the brush— yes, they were the sole reason—, the girl changed her plan. Fingers replaced the darning brushes. A squirrel caught her attention. A break from her imagination.
A model busy with their berry. Lucky they were to reach her eyes. Her fingers dipped into the bottle as a slight smile formed on her face. Shock ran through her and the paint stains covered her pants all over in her jerkiness where her eyes failed to find her beloved model when she glanced back. "For god sake, where are you? Ma'am you never in your lifetime can find an artist like me!" the girl yelled, her eyes peering around.
Once lost is always lost. It would be foolish to wait for her model's return. But memories are permanent. Her hands readied to put her memory into the paper. Complicated as it can be but the blonde can't give up now. The more she painted, the more it messed up but still no halting. It strained her. But what irked her most was the unexpected intruder with her unwanted opinion. Squinting her eyes at her, "For god's sake, why do you care? I utterly know what I am doing!" she growled.
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