Starting a new piece is like standing on the edge of a cliff with the wind screaming in your ears, daring you to jump. The blank canvas sits there in the studio, mocking me—white and empty, an abyss of potential failure. I stare at it, and it stares back, and somewhere between us hangs the unbearable weight of expectations. What if it’s no good? What if it’s a disaster? What will the collectors think, those vultures with their wallets and their opinions, waiting to swoop in or turn away?
I haven’t sold a piece in months. The bills are piling up, threatening to drown me in a sea of red ink. Every day feels like a countdown to some unseen catastrophe. Meanwhile, the canvas sits there, taunting me like a schoolyard bully, daring me to pick up the brush. Fear of failure? Hell, that’s nothing new. Fear of being forgotten, though—that’s the real beast.
I pour another cup of coffee. Stronger this time, black as motor oil. Maybe that’ll do the trick, or maybe it won’t. Either way, the canvas is still there, waiting. It always waits.
Some time later—who knows how long, time means nothing when you’re locked in battle with the void—I found myself staring at the canvas, utterly blank, the very essence of my failure reflected back at me. And then, without warning or reason, I painted the damn thing white again. Pure white, same as it started. Don’t ask me why. Maybe I snapped, or maybe I’m on to something no one else has the guts to see. Either way, it felt good—cathartic, even. Like resetting the game while the house is burning down.
Now I’m sitting here, coffee in hand, staring at that fresh white expanse and wondering if I’ve tricked myself into thinking I’m some kind of genius. Could this be it? The masterpiece itself, hiding in plain sight? Is it done? God, I almost hope it is. There’s a kind of sick beauty in the absurdity of it all—me, the tortured artist, slapping white on white like some deranged minimalist with delusions of grandeur. Maybe I am a genius. Or maybe I’ve just lost my mind. Either way, it’s finished… unless it isn’t.
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