as an artist, art is what i like to do most. it's my passion! the thrill of inspiration, the immersion in the work, hours going by unnoticed as i feverishly seek to put my vision on canvas. i feel so alive! so real! so important!
this afternoon i was walking back from the store and i saw a homeless man sitting there with his hat out. at once an idea began to possess me. the droop of his shoulders, the ineffable look of hopelessness on his face - i had to capture it. feverishly, i ran the rest of the way home and began scribbling on paper. would the #2 charcoal do? yes, it gave me just the right line. a heavy shading, a hint of clouds or perhaps open sky in the background, the sense of a rising wind, alone in emptiness. "despair" i would call it, or "nothing left to lose". the tears rose to my eyes as i saw how moving it would be, there in the gallery alongside "three dead men", "a rose for bonita" and other recent works.
signing my creation with a flourish, i reluctantly left the studio to attend a reception downtown. it would be a dull and pointless evening, if well-catered, but who knew when inspiration might strike again, there among the palms - perhaps i would see a lost child, a stray dog, an old woman unable to get her wheelchair through the revolving doors. there were so many possibilities! i was moved even as i thought of it, and longed to return to my canvas. but the taxi was waiting, and i must go!