The Painter | Teen Ink

The Painter MAG

June 26, 2022
By yumi SILVER, Thousand Oaks, California
yumi SILVER, Thousand Oaks, California
7 articles 0 photos 3 comments

Favorite Quote:
“The living world is a dream. The nocturnal dream is reality.” -Rampo Edogawa

The quiet rustling of the leaves and trickling droplets of water spun together a calming melody that danced with the twirling breeze. Sunlight filtered through the oak trees where woodpeckers and finches had made nests. A small clearing with soft gray moss and pearly white daisies glittered in the glowing rays of the sun, morning dew hanging
sleepily on the blades of grass. In the distance, a fawn was stretching her legs awkwardly, her mother watching gently with deep brown eyes.

A girl stood in front of a canvas, the woven fabric plain and empty. An acrid fragrance overwhelmed the crisp air as she opened the glass jars of fresh paint. Standing with her shoulders relaxed, the girl took a few steps away from the canvas and squinted her sharp hazel eyes, tilting her head so strands of brown hair slipped onto her face. The limitless possibilities of the ideas she could paint floated slowly across her mind, like wispy clouds on an azure sky. She stretched her arms, the sleeves of her cotton dress falling to her elbows. Using her delicate fingers, the girl pulled her hair back messily and looped the strings of her apron around her waist. She then started painting, her hand grasping the brush as her fingers ran down the rough wood.

Using a round brush, she made bold strokes of blue across the canvas. She blended shades of pacific, cerulean, sapphire, and admiral blue to create the bottomless lake, striking slashes of iceberg forming ripples in the calming water. Off white shades were
used to illuminate the dark atmosphere to form a figure gracefully twirling on the lake. Stroke by stroke, the painting came to life, the depth of the lake, mysterious, and the dancing girl, beautiful. The fluttering folds of a golden dress brought out the hidden sparks of guilt scattered across the deep blue lake.

It wasn’t perfect. The messy strokes layered on top of each other failed to hide each and every flaw. The girl’s cheekbones were too prominent, giving her face a more angled look than the softer look that the painter had been aiming for. Some of the painted ripples appeared unnatural, shades of blue too bright to create a smooth flow in the water. Yet, the girl smiled as the sun fell, shadows lengthened across the canvas, bringing out the texture of the dried paint.

The girl rinsed her hands in the streaming cold water of a nearby river and carefully packed away her cracking paint. Taking her finished painting with her, she left a new blank canvas on her stained easel before leaving the clearance. Tomorrow she would come back with new ideas, perhaps better than before, but for today, she was happy with what she had created.

Fireflies flittered across the woods, lighting up the dark sky as the sound of crickets chirping filled the cold night air. The earthy smell of the forest and the faint aroma of the wildflowers danced together as the crescent moon curiously watched from the sky. In the distance, a fawn and her mother had fallen asleep, their black noses tucked under their hind legs while they nestled together in their warm den.

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This article has 2 comments.

on Jul. 12 2022 at 4:49 am
DesdemoniaDee SILVER, Wördern, Other
5 articles 0 photos 31 comments

Favorite Quote:
“All good books are alike in that they are truer than if they had really happened and after you are finished reading one you will feel that all that happened to you and afterwards it all belongs to you: the good and the bad, the ecstasy, the remorse and sorrow, the people and the places and how the weather was. If you can get so that you can give that to people, then you are a writer.”
― Ernest Hemingway

Very well written! Everything is so well described and appeals to the senses by mentioning smells, sounds, etc.

on Jul. 3 2022 at 4:11 pm
mooshimosh SILVER, Thousand Oaks, California
5 articles 0 photos 5 comments

Favorite Quote:
"Maybe the less you have, the more you are required to boast." - John Steinbeck

very nice