The Wonder of Art

“Hey, Nathan, come look at this.” I picked up the canvas and pointed it towards the doorway of the kitchen where he was washing dishes. Just moments later he appeared in the doorway, drying his hands.

“Nice, man.” He replied.

“Nice? This is a new life here. A world full of bursting colors.” I lifted the canvas up higher, afraid his judgment was clouded because he simply couldn’t see the true beauty of it from so far away. 

“A world? Where are the cities, countries, people?” He asked, moving further into the room until he was standing directly in front of the canvas looking at it. He brought his hand to his head, over his eyes, and squinted. You could tell he was making fun of my painting, and how I described it. But none of that mattered.

“Every drop of paint is a person, where they come together is a community, and altogether it is a world that is underappreciated.” I snapped, keeping my head held high.

“Well, it is very colorful. I like the mixture of colors. Abstract paintings are a complex beauty to look at.” He replied, and began to walk away from the painting. I caught him just before he could leave.

“How about you make one of your own?” I asked him. He spun around and gave me a look that shouted no. But everything inside me screamed yes. 

“No, I don’t think so. I am not very good with paint.”

“You don’t need to be good at something to enjoy doing it.” I replied, intertwining my hand. I turned my head from him to the painting and back again. 

“Like I said...no.” He turned and walked out of the room before I could say more. But I knew my job wasn’t done. He could enjoy giving life to a canvas much like I have.

_______________

Later that day, I had photocopied many of my paintings, some duplicates, and lined them with tape. I went into his bedroom while he was away running errands, and placed them on his very empty bedroom wall. He will see what a wonderful change it makes, and that change will change his mind. 

I waited patiently in the living room, checking emails. I waited for the door lock to click, and the door to open, revealing Nathan. Nathan had been my best friend since grade school and had always been incredibly hard on himself. He was a stern man. He had short brown hair, pale skin, and humor that wouldn’t even make a frog laugh. But that's what made him funny.

He often worked himself too hard and came home so tired that he couldn’t even bring himself to eat but rather went into his room, lay down, and was asleep within the minute his head hit his pillow.

A few minutes later, and several emails answered, the door opened. Nathan put all bags on the table and began to unload them.

“Hey, man, do you think I could borrow your phone charger? Mine seems to be all out of wack today, but I will get a new one soon.” I got up and walked to the kitchen counter where the bags sat. I began to help him unload them, giving him the freedom to walk into his room and get the charger for me, which he so willingly did.

I watched as he quickly walked into his room, turning on his lamp. Lucky for me, I placed the charger on the table just next to the wall. Surely he couldn’t miss it.

“Got the charger.” He came out, seemingly unphased by my efforts to draw him towards color. Towards anything but work.

“Thanks.” He handed me the charger and began to unload the bags once more.

Once we finished, less than two minutes later, he walked back to his room again. I shyly followed, hoping that maybe there was something I was missing. Maybe his lamp didn’t illuminate the room enough? He never used his light switch, he claimed that the electricity bills would skyrocket, and he would rather that not happen.

I saw he left his door ajar and quietly walked over to it. Every intention of mine was to steer him in a direction that could prove something would destress him. I am sure he needs to see a chiropractor. He is always stressed, his muscles tense.

I saw the wall through the cracked open door, but no sign of Nathan. Though, I knew he was in there. I straightened myself up, only to be knocked into a hunch again when a hand slammed on his door and ripped it open, scaring me so close to death I could taste it. My scream must have echoed through the entire neighborhood, but he didn’t even flinch.

“Hey, what's new?” I asked, breathless and my heart racing.

“Oh, nothing. What are you doing?” He said this without moving a muscle. Loosen up, man. You’re going to have back problems one day. 

“I just came to ask you the same question.” 

“Well, perhaps, I was staring at the new decor you’ve put up in my room without my permission to do so.” The emphasis on ‘my’ was one of great annoyance. Maybe he could be an actor, you just had to get him riled up. But I knew I was in the wrong, no matter how good my intentions may be.

“Yes, I’m sorry. I will take them down now.” I moved to push past him, but he didn’t move at all. He just stood in the doorway, looking at me.

“No, I like them there.” He said. It shook me to my core. Nathan, the person who looked into having a skunk as a pet, liked the art I put on his plain grey wall while he was getting groceries that I am only going to eat later.

“What?” I expected something different. Maybe I expected him to yell at me more, or tear the pictures down. I saved the original paintings specifically for that reason.

“They’re nice. I really like the one with the night sky above an ocean reflecting a town sitting right on the shore. Really shows how pretty nighttime could be, not that I’d know.”

“Yeah, right,” I said, my eyebrows narrowed. What’s the catch to this? 

“Stop looking at me like that. I had been thinking about what you said all morning.” He replied.

“And?” I let my eyebrows loosen, and wiggled them so they didn’t narrow again at the next surprise. Which, surprisingly, came soon after.

“I want to give it a try.” He said, and he leaned against one side of the doorway.

“O-okay.” I didn’t know what more to say, but is what I wanted, right?

“So let's go.” He walked past me, heading straight for my room. Without my permission. Well played.

He walked into my room and picked up one of the blank canvases sitting against the wall beside my desk. Then he sat down and waited. I walked over to my closet and pulled out two paint pallets, paintbrushes, an easel, and a box of paint. I glanced at him several times only to find him staring at the blank canvas.

“Ready?” I asked, setting up the easel.

“Ready.” He said, his voice sounded giddy. Like a child getting their first toy on Christmas Day. I opened the box of paint and set it on the desk. 

“You can take whatever colors you need, but only use an efficient amount. This stuff is expensive.” I told him.

I walked over to my own canvas, and let him have the easel. I was used to paint without one. Though, sometimes painting on an easel gives you much more mobility with your color. I figured it would be fine for him to have that for the first time he painted, as a leisure activity.

I watched as he picked up five colors, all of which I couldn’t see very clearly. The only color I could make out was purple. I thought it best to let him have fun with it, and not get too much into blending and the colors that go together smoothly.

I focused on my own painting for a long time, occasionally glancing at him but never too long as I didn’t want to break my own focus. I decided to paint a sunset, a basic pretty picture but something to calm myself for the day. About forty-five minutes later, he broke the concentrated silence.

“I finished. Now, I know it isn’t the greatest but it is something I could be proud of.” He said and lifted his canvas off the easel. I stood up and looked at him. He still held the painting towards himself, but I could see splatters of purple and blue paint on his shirt and hands.

“” Okay let’s see it,” I told him and waited expectantly. 

“Well, this was a great experience, I wouldn’t mind doing it again another day. Very relaxing but here goes,” He turned the painting towards me. It wasn’t the best thing in the world, but even the most renowned artists have room for improvement. Growth is essential. He painted the galaxy, the unknown beyond the earth. That much was clear. You could see planets, perfectly imperfect on either side of the canvas, and little stars throughout the blue and purple mixture of color. It wasn’t the best thing in the world, but it was amazing. It was new and exciting. 

Perhaps, the best new hobby a man could ever give his best friend is one that he doesn’t try so hard to get right but simply enjoys.

“Nice, man,” I told him, trying not to giggle at my very own joke.

“Hey, every star is a city, how about that?” He said, and he smiled. After a moment of just looking at the painting, we both laughed. 

_____________________________

The simple enjoyment of creating these wonderful worlds stayed with us both long after. Our apartment is filled with paintings now. I finally began to teach him how to mix colors and how to make the paint run more smoothly on the canvas. Most of the time, he just has fun with it, but other times he does take it seriously. 

Sometimes we crave something new, so we look for new crafts, and most times, we find one. There is so much to build out in the world so much to create- that’s what we tell ourselves and we make it happen.

We both have a way of winding down when we are stressed or in need of something new. So we create it. All different ways, several different things. New, old, the unimaginable, and weird. A lot of the new things we've had were very hard to complete, but it gave us something to do- a way to use our hands and mold, paint or build something we can control.

To this day, we will never forget, as often as we tell each other, that you don’t need to be good at something to enjoy doing it.