Published by: Daniel Joshua Madrid
Date Published: November 1, 2024
Time Published: 11:44 AM
Category: Prose (Trabble)
Theme: Not knowing who you are, so you resort to adapting your personality to fit with others.
I am an artist.
My hands shiver as I stare at an empty canvas, a blank slate of what used to be something vibrant, and colorful— now dull, and washed away.
An artist who looks at other people’s canvasses to mimic their art so when they too look at mine, they'll feel a sense of familiarity. They'll like my art— they'll like me.
“Hey, I like your abstract painting, our art is very alike!” They say to me.
“Hi, I love your goth renaissance painting, we're very similar.” Said another.
“I appreciate your style in impressionism, do you want to paint together sometimes?” Said someone else.
“Thank you.” I said. Happy to find others liking my art although… I would be lying if I said I wished they liked my art for what it truly is. Even though I, myself have no clue what my canvas would look like if I stopped mimicking others.
My blank, empty canvas… even if I attempt to make something of my own I wouldn't know where to start. Should I paint it green because I am envious? Maybe a dark blue like a vast ocean because I'm “deep” and mysterious— or a vibrant red to showcase my seething anger for my lack of individuality.
Alas, It remains a blank slate. No matter how much thought I put into my art, I will forever be tied to an empty canvas, with a hand who can only mimic the art of others. Forced to keep a charade of mirrors to copy the art of everyone who sees my work to satisfy them.
I am an artist, incapable of picking up a palette and a brush to create something original, something with its own heart.
Maybe soon, I'll be able to show my art as it is.
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