This week’s prompts are at the bottom. The story below was written only for practice, because practice is what makes perfect. I was considering where inspiration comes from. How we treat our muses and how that can impact the shape, texture, scent and feel of our work.
Peruda was sipping coffee out back when the knock sounded on his door. He didn’t move. He let Nekane answer it and he stayed put. He was contemplating his current work; how it affected him when he studied it as it sat on the easel. He liked the way it was taking shape. He liked the texture that was developing, especially in the shadows. He liked the palette. Like most of his work it was large. His inspiration had been a photograph that he had found buried deep in his mother’s papers. The photo was a road, running straight and true, fading, ever smaller into the horizon. Barbed wire fences paralleled the road on both sides. The photographer had been standing in the middle of the road when he, or she, snapped the shot. Wooden telephone poles stood like sentinels between the fence on the left and the road’s shoulder.
This classic example of single point perspective was broken only by the pickup truck. Peruda knew, instinctively that the truck was red; he knew this, even though the photo was black and white and had faded to browns – sepia tones. He also knew that when the truck had left the road it had been traveling at excessive speed. Somehow he was aware that the accident had been fatal. The driver had been killed when he was thrown from the fast moving vehicle as it rolled five times before coming to rest, wheels down, listing slightly, and perpendicular to the road.
The painting was abstracted, impasto; the lines from the knife heavier in the umbra than in the highlights. It was taking shape.
He wished his mother were still alive so he could ask her about the photograph. Had she taken the shot? Who had been the driver whose lifeless body lay out of sight in the deep weeds of the ditch, beyond the graveled berm of the road?
“Peruda?” Nekane called from the house, “Peruda?” She stepped from the doorway to the patio. “There are two policemen at the door asking for you. Shall I show them in?”
This week’s prompts are:
- we need you again
- I love you anyway
- I’m not that kind of girl
Go ahead and dive in, set your imagination free!
Ready, Set, Go – you have 25 minutes, but if that is not possible, take as long as you need.