Writing Prompt

I was near finished with the work when I became suddenly aware that I was not simply painting his portrait—I was studying his soul.

My brushstrokes stuttered as I glanced from him to the art and back again. I had accurately portrayed his physical features—the light curl of his blonde hair, the soft curve of his pink lips, the brightness of his blue eyes—but somewhere in the layering of the paint...

Start with the structure. Required part of the sketch. No real image needs to come from it, only a glimpse at the actual pose. mostly squares and circles connected by a thin line.

Then move on to guidelines. turn that circle that barely resembles a head into a more appropriate shape, copying that same instruction until the guidelines resemble a body shape.

Finally add details. My pencil flew ac...

There is beauty in paint

Stroke here

Stroke there

But ‘Twas not perfect yet,

For she needs portrayal in the most

Gorgeous way

Just like her.

The way the hair falls,

A curl of light

Stroke here

Stroke there

Wrong stroke

Wrong line

Slightly wrong curl

Colors too dark

Unlike her.

Tear it up

Rip

Start again

Not like her

The light falls just right

I can’t create that light

Not the grace or the

Dance...

When Zelda walked in, I couldn’t keep my eyes from looking anywhere but her.

She was _beautiful_.

Her hair was a dark brown, and in the sun sparkled almost golden.

Her face was pale, but fair and sharp.

Amber eyes lite up her face, and dark lashes fluttered up and down.

Her nose was straight with a small bump.

Zelda was beautiful in an artist’s eye; in my eyes she was divine.

Every angle of ...

“It takes years to paint perfection”

I tell that to anyone that asks

Why are you taking so long when normally your masterpieces take only weeks?

Why is barely any paint on the canvas?

Why do you just stare at that poor girl for hours on end?

Perfection

How can you paint utter perfection?

How can you even put something that beautiful on a canvas without taking away some of thier glory?

The g...

Sitting there on the unworthy stool, I almost want to pull it away and bring in the perfumed couch. But of course I can’t do that, now. You’re comfortable already, fanning yourself in the heat and humidity of the day. The flaps of the tent are still; there is no breeze today, but you are so deserving of one. I can’t bring my eyes away from yours, anyhow. This whole time, the whole three hours I’ve...

Reds as dark as the color of blood. Blues shining like a sparkling ocean. Yellows as bright and radiant as the sun. These are the colors I am used to using while painting scenery or portraits, but they aren’t good enough for the woman in front of me. Not even a little bit.

She has dark, luscious wavy black hair, and expressive light brown eyes that sparkle in the candlelight. Cheeks lightly dust...

I love my job. I do what I love and people want it. Never do something you love and are good at for free.

I put my mind and soul into what I paint. And today I am only drawing eyes, something that I have had a fascination with since I discovered my love for watercolor. I can do acrylic and even just charcoal or chalk, and I am just as good at it too. But that doesn’t matter. I am also good at th...

I have spent my whole life

Loving others "too much"

More than myself

More than life

I have loved to hard

too intensely

too invasively

But i don't think i have

i believe the real issue

is that my love language goes

far too under appreciated

far too often

Shakespeare wrote with so much passion

Just as Michelangelo painted

Everyone love the artists that loves too much and too hard and too i...

“Stupid, stupid, stupid” I mutter slamming the car door closed.

“Stupid. It’s all stupid.” I scream at the top of my lungs.

I’m at a hill, a 10 minute drive away from my house in the pouring rain. It’s isolated, perfect.

I jump and scream. My body’s getting drenched but who cares at this point. Clearly not me.

I storm to the trunk of my car and pull out a golf club that the old owner left in ...