Standing in the vicinity where Mr. Thomas was doing his painting, I never knew what his next brush would be, it could be a stroke that awakens a capture from nature; a dab that dabbles over the skies; a smudge that conjures a beautiful mess, uncertain as ever, changing as the winds do.
The canvas was 8 by 7.2 feet, Mr. Thomas was assisted by a contraption- a mechanical arm, to lift him around in order to let him finish his piece of work. I was asked to clean up the surroundings that were filled with colour palates and canvases of artwork in an asunder yet orderly manner across the blank space at the back porch, I did so whilst stealing a few glances of how he was producing his work, art.
“Let’s call it a day, John.” he prompted me, “Get me off.” I replied with the usual yeses, carrying out my duties as told. I was once again fascinated, awestruck by his arts. “Why… You seem to be different these few days.”
“No, sir.” I paused. “I am simply fascinated by your work.” monotonous yet flourishing with life.
He wheeled himself towards me, grabbing a few of his art kits for me, “Here, give it a go.” gently, he pushed the set of colours, brush into my arms. I could not help but not to resist at all. “Paint something.” he asked.
I fumbled for my actions, “But… you know I can’t do…”
“Just paint anything you want.” he interjected. I had no choice but to take up the task given by him. Scanning the vicinity for objects that I could replicate upon, it is counted as drawing something… right? I hastily painted the details that I had targeted upon- a painter’s table with colours smeared across it and misplaced brushes that were coloured with experience.
As I finished up my work, “You are just simply replicating the things around you.” he commented, “Why not you try painting another one, with the eye of your mind. Draw something that is original, from your mind.”
What… “I… I don…”
“Close your eyes.” a command, I closed my eyes tightly. “Try picturing what you want to paint and bring it to the canvas.” my mind was in knots of apprehension, an enigmatic premonition, an unfathomable act. My thoughts were wrestling wildly with myself, I simply could not produce something original, I just could not.
I took a deep breath, I needed to. This is fascinating. The thought sprang into life once more, I took courage, lifted up the brush, a vivid image started to form inside my head. Utilising the skills of Mr. Thomas, I managed to pull it off. My vision was dark, but I knew what I was painting, I knew what my heart wanted to create.
As I was doing the finishing touches, I realised I did the impossible. Prying open my eyes, seeing a vertical mechanical arm, damaged badly, unraveled from the metal chains, covered in codes, fighting to be freed from the grim of human’s creation.
“Oh. My. God.”