Art Is...Everything

"Really all you do is take the big brush and swiftly move it back and forth across the canvas. You have to feel it, go with the motion of the ocean.", I said, quickly turning my head to hide my reddened cheeks. It's surprising that he's not very talented at painting, being that he's awesome at everything. His own words. It's probably the reason he attempted to try this out. People don't really want to learn new hobbies, or want unnecessary talents that don't benefit them. Or they just don't have time. But being open to new things is the most important part.

"Yeah, I don't think i'll get the hang of this. I can see if we were painting a dog or something, but a human face?", he shook his head. "I can see where you're coming from," I chuckled, "but one thing that helps me is finding where my inspiration is. That's what creation and passion comes from.", I finish. He suddenly stands, causing me to turn my full attention to him. He walked over to the wall where my paintings hang, observing each one carefully. His body slightly hunch over due to how tall he is, and how low they were placed on the wall. I watched as his long golden brown hair fell down to his face, and how he slid it behind his ears. "So, basically what you're saying is...," he paused, slowly turning around to look at me as he crossed his arms over his chest, "if I can figure out what inspires my art, I can have the strength to paint people like this beautiful woman?", he pointed to the one right behind his head. I couldn't help but blush. Not because he just complimented my art work, but because he didn't notice that the woman in the painting looks exactly like me. He just called my mother beautiful.

"Did I say something wrong?", he asked concerned. My face became filled with confusion. Why would he think he said something wrong, I thought. But then I remembered that I had just been staring at him, not giving an answer - which in my case only made me blush even harder at the realization. "I'm sorry. I just didn't expect you to...nevermind.", I turned around to my canvas. "I'll show you how to properly use a paint brush.", I say, attempting to change the subject. To my surprise, it worked. He walked back to his stool, taking a seat and grabbing the flat sash brush from the dirty water that had remnants of blue, yellow and pink paint.

"You hold it like you would hold a pencil. Then you just take the brush up and down like this.", I explain as I demonstrate. He nods as if in understanding, following the same motions. He moves the brush up and down in slow strokes. He then looks at me with a grin. "I think you have that down packed.", I smile. So did he.

"So, what else do you think you need to know about this? I mean, if you're actually interested in learning more about it.", I say, inwardly hoping that he'd ask more about it. I would say that one out of every five people that I talk about art to actually engages in what I say, and get hands on with the supplies.

"I actually wanna know about what inspires you to paint the way you do. Your art...it's not normal, or something you see day to day. I don't even think i'd see your paintings in the world's most famous museum.", he explained. I was filled with surprise, but mostly shock. "Are you saying that you're actually interested in taking art up as a hobby?", I asked jokingly. Only half serious. He chuckled. "I would say that you opened a door for me. Never in a million flying pigs would I have ever done this on my own.", he explained. I'm happy to say that I feel like all of these sessions in my studio, opening it up to the community to help people know what passion and imagination actually looks like on paper, expressed in more ways than just words. I didn't think that even one person would give it a chance. But that one person actually did show up. That one person that I doubted would ever ask any questions - that wouldn't dare explore their creativity, and want to have fun with it. But, there he is...right in front of me.

"Did I...say something wrong again?", he asked cautiously. I was staring again. I should say something...I really should. "Nope. You're saying everything right.", I say quietly. He didn't say a thing. I looked up, curious as to why it became so silent. Maybe I said the wrong thing by saying he said the right thing. Maybe he thinks i'm flirting with him and he has a girlfriend. I swear I didn't know. And I swear I wasn't flirting!

"Nirvana.", he simply said. I raised a brow at him. "My inspiration. It's Nirvana.", he explained. "Perfect happiness and peace?", I asked in a way that sounded like I was confused, which I wasn't...kinda. I crossed my arms over my chest. "The band Nirvana. You know, Smells Like Teen Spirit?", he said. Nirvana? A band called Nirvana? They sound like they were way before my time. "Man Who Sold The World? Kurt Cobain? ", he pressed. At this degree, I don't know them. He must've picked up on how clueless I was about this band. He sighed. "Well, also peace and happiness.", he grinned. "I'm not saying that art is my whole life now, i'm just interested in what can actually come out of...I guess you can say when you put your feelings in the paint. Life can only get better.",he continued.

"Well, I like your optimism. Which is why you should take art into consideration. Art expresses. Art speaks. Art is hope for better. Art is therapy. Art is...everything.", I say.