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In a concrete bunker midst the trees, an artist stares at a blank canvas, his mind empty, his thoughts an open space.
With a blow of his arm, his easel hurtles across the room. He tramples across discarded canvases and crumpled empty paint tubes, then crouches in a corner, head resting upon his knees. His inspiration has deserted him.
Through a rusty iron grid crisscrossing the broken window, a sunray permeates the gloom. He looks up and gazes at shadows flickering upon the peeling wall. They dance, they trip, they spin. The awful silence is broken by the merry song of a whistling bird.
He unfurls his aching body, rights his easel and grasps a canvas. He adorns his palette with paints of many colours, then with flicks of his wrist pictures begin to form. One, then two, three, more.
It was years before the studio was discovered. A glimpse of heaven one reporter wrote. Hidden treasures said another. Nobody knew who the creator was. Not a signature, not a single clue.
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Sunday Photo Fiction is hosted by Susan Spaulding. My tale is very loosely based on her photograph!
Keith's Ramblings 
Many great artists go unrecognised. Good at least he found his inspiration at last.
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It comes and goes as do our words. Thanks Abhilit
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I have a very nice drawing hanging in my guest room that my oldest son made. He won an award for it in a Congressional art contest. I thought he would study art. He is a computer engineer. He said artists don’t make money until after they are dead. So true in many cases.
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Sadly this is I often the case. Although he’s gone for a safe option career-wise, I hope he’s continued panting as a hobby.,
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A story full of images. I really enjoyed it
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Thanks so much Mike
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The struggle of the artist. Sometimes it never feels worthwhile, but you have to keep believing!
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I’m sure that applies to most creative people whatever their area of expertise. Cheers Iain.
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It’s so hard to find that inspiration sometimes, and harder still to be recognized for it.
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I fully agree. Thanks Mimi.
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I think most of us are fascinated by how our Muse strikes. This spells out how we face long spells of frustration interspersed with moments of inspiration.
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Fascinated and frustrated! Cheers CE
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He lived a passionate life.. His need for destruction just as fierce as his creativity. Excellent combination for an artist. Very nice write.
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So it often it is with creative people. Thanks Violet
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Sounds like the life of an artist You are one as well Always love your original stories
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Thanks so much Marja, that’s so kind of you.
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An intense tale laying bare the harshness behind the glamour of a creative life.
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Indeed. |Thanks so much Anurag
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There’s a clue here to the meaning of remembering to sign your work. Recognition doesn’t come from hiding your light under a bushel. Nice write Keith!
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I must remember to sign my stories – you never know…! Cheers John
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So we’ll expressed, I could see him.
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So well expressed. That was typing mistake earlier.
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