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"I like the swan," someone said. "Yes," she began, "It's quite...awesome. That is the word you use, is it not, awesome...?" There was a stutter of laughter, students aware of the inconsistancy in her usually formal, studied language. "Yeah, I was surprised it turned out as well as it did. I just sat down and did it, really quick." "Yes, often that is for the best." Our eyes cast across her other works surrounding the swan. Full, lots of color, but very flat. "I find that quick paintings seem to get their essence across best. The more one labors on a piece, well, perhaps that is the best way to drain it of its spirit, to suck the life out of it, so to speak." We tried to focus on her swan, but no one could help but notice that she could no longer look at her own works. "Concentration is the death of art, perhaps." Everyone stopped looking at her work and started tearing their own pieces apart, only their eyes moving. "What do people think of her picture of the harbor?" the mentor continued. There were only the silent sounds of tearing. |
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