Tag: artist

Reality check

“You should nurture me, not leave halfway.”

Penny ignored it. Although she tried to escape, guilt gnawed at her ribs. Life was in shambles—her wallpaper had lost its adhesiveness, her wallet its weight to repaint.

No matter. Leaving for good, she needn’t make the place habitable anymore. Paintings she’d once adored lay around, fading, frames falling apart, and in total disarray. She didn’t care. Not when no one else cared to appreciate her work.

She’d tried. And she’d failed. Unmanageable, strangling reality cast her into poverty.

Time to stifle the voice of her creativity instead.

Desk job repays debts.

Many is one

The best thing about modern art is that it has no definition. Anyone can interpret it in any way they like. The artist doesn’t have to be precise or convey everything that runs in their mind. And that’s why no two people absorb a piece of art the same way.

But when the artist has multiple interpretations of their own to convey, then perhaps this is how it might look. This work of art sits at the Museum of Modern Art in San Francisco, California. It reminds me how a single thing can be single and many at the same time. It’s a depiction of how changing, how unfixed art—and to an extent, life—is.

Museum of Modern Art

Show business

As an aspiring teenager in show business, Tina’s life had been difficult from the start. Her young blood had boiled every time money took precedence over talent. Her self-respecting self had cringed when industry’s leading names called her names and demanded unreason from her. Fifteen years it had taken for her to take her stand, to sparkle with pride, to face an audience and accept the globe she so deserved.

The glory, the globe, sat between her palms as she carried it off the stage, and all the while, the auditorium applauded the best actor of the year—the temporary identity she’d assumed on behalf of her costar. He was filming the next globe winner halfway across the globe.

The director

“Why can’t you ever get my words right?”

Jonathon’s director, Mark, was yelled again. Jonathon had wanted to write his own dialogues — he always does, and directors often appreciate it. Mark, however, didn’t.

Mark was a good director but a terrible writer. Although he’d written an impeccable screenplay, he’d fluffed the dialogues. As Jonathon read his script, he felt repeating himself senseless. Mark was adamant.

By show day, Jonathon had decided he’d never work with Mark again. When curtains rose, he just did his job. He cut the fluff out, and performed what became the best play of Mark’s career.