The Artist
One bright, sunny day, two pieces of paper were sunbathing in the midday warmth, enjoying the pleasures of the summertime. One piece of paper was called Snow-White. She was pure white, and so very proud of her pristine purity. ‘Look at me,’ she said to her companion. ‘Did you ever see such a beautifully white piece of paper?’ Her companion was called Pure-as-the-Dawn. She too was amazingly white and wonderfully free from the slightest stain. The two pieces of paper outshone each other in the midday sunlight.
In the distance, a figure appeared upon the horizon. He caught their attention. As they watched, he approached, ever closer.
‘Who can that be?’ asked Snow-White.
‘What is he carrying in his arms?’ wondered Pure-as-the-Dawn.
The figure came closer and closer, until he was only a few yards away from the two paper-friends.
In his arms, he carried a palette and paintbrushes. In his eyes, there was a curious, dream-like light. A love-light, but gentle. And in his heart, he carried a dream.
‘What do you think he wants?’ Snow-White asked Pure-as-the-Dawn. ‘You don’t think he is going to paint on us, do you?’
Pure-as-the-Dawn flinched, as the words sank in. ‘I think that is exactly what he wants to do,’ she murmured.
‘There’s no way that I will allow him to paint on me,’ railed Snow-White. ‘No painter is going to spoil my purity.’
‘But what if he is a master-painter?’ Pure-as-the-Dawn reflected. ‘He might create a masterpiece on our pure white emptiness. He might make us into masterpieces.’
‘But then again,’ said Snow-White, ‘he might make a complete mess of us. No. I’m not taking any risks like that. I’m going to stay pure until the day I die.’
And so it came to be that the artist approached both pieces of paper and asked their permission to paint his dream upon their pure whiteness.
Snow-White said, ‘No way!’ And she remained pure white, and empty, until the day that the wind and the weather finally turned her back into pulp.
Pure-as-the-Dawn said, ‘Do as you will with me. I will trust you. I will entrust myself to the work of your hands.’ And the artist turned her into a masterpiece – a unique and beautiful representation of the dream that he was carrying in his heart, so that in all the years to come many, many people would look at the artist’s picture, and in its depths and beauty, they would rediscover their own lost dreams.
One bright, sunny day, two pieces of paper were sunbathing in the midday warmth, enjoying the pleasures of the summertime. One piece of paper was called Snow-White. She was pure white, and so very proud of her pristine purity. ‘Look at me,’ she said to her companion. ‘Did you ever see such a beautifully white piece of paper?’ Her companion was called Pure-as-the-Dawn. She too was amazingly white and wonderfully free from the slightest stain. The two pieces of paper outshone each other in the midday sunlight.
In the distance, a figure appeared upon the horizon. He caught their attention. As they watched, he approached, ever closer.
‘Who can that be?’ asked Snow-White.
‘What is he carrying in his arms?’ wondered Pure-as-the-Dawn.
The figure came closer and closer, until he was only a few yards away from the two paper-friends.
In his arms, he carried a palette and paintbrushes. In his eyes, there was a curious, dream-like light. A love-light, but gentle. And in his heart, he carried a dream.
‘What do you think he wants?’ Snow-White asked Pure-as-the-Dawn. ‘You don’t think he is going to paint on us, do you?’
Pure-as-the-Dawn flinched, as the words sank in. ‘I think that is exactly what he wants to do,’ she murmured.
‘There’s no way that I will allow him to paint on me,’ railed Snow-White. ‘No painter is going to spoil my purity.’
‘But what if he is a master-painter?’ Pure-as-the-Dawn reflected. ‘He might create a masterpiece on our pure white emptiness. He might make us into masterpieces.’
‘But then again,’ said Snow-White, ‘he might make a complete mess of us. No. I’m not taking any risks like that. I’m going to stay pure until the day I die.’
And so it came to be that the artist approached both pieces of paper and asked their permission to paint his dream upon their pure whiteness.
Snow-White said, ‘No way!’ And she remained pure white, and empty, until the day that the wind and the weather finally turned her back into pulp.
Pure-as-the-Dawn said, ‘Do as you will with me. I will trust you. I will entrust myself to the work of your hands.’ And the artist turned her into a masterpiece – a unique and beautiful representation of the dream that he was carrying in his heart, so that in all the years to come many, many people would look at the artist’s picture, and in its depths and beauty, they would rediscover their own lost dreams.
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