"I am created to Create."
He stood staring at the blank canvas, hung at the easel which lay just before my framed quote.
This was his fourth month staring at the white film devoid of paint.
Someone created to create that can't create anymore is nothing but a hoax.
With a sigh he dropped his paintbrush and walked away from his studio.
His last piece created was to be auctioned at an art event later this year and he was getting worried.
The top contemporary artist, David Deviant, was never devoid of art.
After a piece was sold, he brought out another the following month. That's how it has always been, his endless string of supply to help keep up with the swell of demand.
He remembered that one class where the question was asked. The time when it all came to him.
He loved his art, his gift, his talent. The ability to share it with the world.
He wanted his art to be seen by all, yet he also wanted them to be valued high. Costly but not too costly that nobody can buy and enjoy it.
It was a predicament, one he had managed to fix by bringing out a masterpiece just once every four months.
And the four months were up.
Standing at the patio, with a cigarette in his hand he stood admiring the clouds in thought.
His phone rang, opening it, the Caller ID showed his best friend, classmate and manager, Jason.
"It's been sold." He said
"That's good. How much?" David replied, taking a drag of the cigarette, hoping the nicotine would help calm the growing knott of anxiety in his chest.
"A little over $4000." came the reply from the phone.
David kept quietly, hoping he had heard incorrectly.
"What?" He asked back.
"There was nothing I could do about it David," Jason began.
"I told you nothing above $1,000"
"It's an auction David!!" Jason shouted.
"This is how auctions are. Those who are interested try outbidding the other and everyone is interested in you!"
David unintentionally squeezed the cigarette out at that comment.
"They shouldn't be that interested." He said to Jason quietly.
The silence over the call line was unsettling.
"You mustn't force yourself. If it's your time to drop your brush, you can."
"And let my name die out of the art world?" David asked.
"Your name wouldn't die. You know that even then it's when it becomes more alive." Jason replied.
"Alive. When collectors and businesses resell my pieces at exorbitant prices, when my art becomes so alive that the common people can't afford to enjoy it."
"Yes, when your art gets sought after, when your art becomes as priceless as its station demands, that's when your art is alive, that's when your legacy lives."
David kept quiet after that. He understood what Jason was saying. He knew that it was almost time for him to finally let go of the brush. It's something that he had privately thought of.
Something that has visited his mind one too many times.
Yet it's something that he had never agreed to.
"Jason. It may soon be time for me to drop my brush. Yet I'd wish nothing more than for my art prices to remain as is.
If art being alive means that it would be kept in a sealed airtight glass box, locked in the secret safe of an expensive art enthusiast, if it becomes priceless.
If my art being alive means it's not something that everyone can fully enjoy and interact with, then to me that piece is dead and I wish it stayed dead."
With that he cut the call, determination and ambition renewed he walked briskly into his studio and stared at the canvas.
Choosing a color which he splashed on the page he began to work.
What he was going to create, he didn't know yet but he already had a name for the piece.
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