Wednesday, July 11, 2007

Overworked and Underpaid

Monochrome Sugar Bowl and Vase
Oil on Panel
Raw Umber and Titanium White.

I ruined this. No, its not my worst, but I ruined it nonetheless. It was at its best at about 25-30 paint strokes before this picture. Since this is one of my babies, I am found myself looking at it pleading for forgiveness.

"Please forgive me, little one. I don't know why I couldn't stop fiddling. Then one fiddle caused another fiddle.. and the next thing I know I had fiddled you to death." I said as I hung my head in shame. The guilt washed over me and filled me like ooze draining down my spine.

"But my ellipses were pretty good for a while." The little study spoke back in breathy response. Even in its dying breath, encouragement was still the primary objective.

I took careful aim with my camera and hesitated for a moment as I took one more look with my own eyes before taking the last shot. "I don't want to remember you like this" I cried. "I never dreamed it would end up like this. I am so very very sorry"

"Take the shot." The study said firmly. "Take it and put me to rest. Then, one day you will come upon another study that is much like me and you will remember much more clearly how this should have ended. It is then, that you will become the hero you are meant to be. It is then that my own destiny shall be fulfilled."

I took sight again of the study leaning heavily against the drawing board. I aimed carefully and took the shot. As I pulled the body from the clips that were holding it to the board, I scanned the surface once more looking for the good strokes under all of those horrible life stealing strokes. There was no evidence. I carefully placed the study in the darkness of the chest and closed the lid softly as if it were sleeping.

"I will not let his death... No! I will not let his life be in vain!" I stated as I headed up the stairs to the kitchen door. In that moment I finally understood that my life's purpose was to avenge the death of this study and so many other studies before him. As I opened the door to the kitchen I heard myself mumble "These guys simply do not get paid enough for the work they do!"

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