A spotless canvas was ready and it was calling out to an imagination. The art in the head would be let out on the impression less surface. The artist stood in contemplation, rolling the brush in the tips of his finger. After a while, his thought process stopped with abruption. He placed the brush on the side table, faced the wall and began banging his head continually, till he saw stains of blood on the wall. After getting the desirable texture of the bloody red color, he stopped. Using his palm he rubbed his forehead and began smearing the color on the canvas. A little smudging here and there and his master piece was ready.
He couldn’t feel the pain of his throbbing forehead as he smiled in awe looking at the random patterns in red on the white sheet.
The liberation of an idea had happened, art had been materialized from the imagination of a head onto a physical medium.
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Doing art is a *bloody* tough job.
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