blue ✓

sixteen

h a r r y

In life we take a simple flower, or a pretty sunset and we admire the beauty that belongs to this but never look past the visually appealing. In art we take the rawness of life, the hurt, the emotions, the good and the bad, and we imitate that on a canvas in our own way. Life imitates art, and art imitates life. We are a whole world painted on a canvas, playing out as the artist of nature and life paints us with vibrant colours, or dull colours. I always seemed to see who was dull in colour, those who just simply didn't understand how wonderful this world could be if we looked past all the chaos. And I always seemed to see who was full of colour, vibrant and glimmering under the sky as they admired that simple cluster of pink clouds, or the way a book expressed the love of two fictional characters.

The first person I saw with vibrant colours was her, the blue eyed girl.

She dripped with colour, she screamed out a galaxy of adventure and she was the breath of fresh air my art died to taste. She was something other and her alone made me the artist I am today, she inspired something deep in me that made my art what it was and every time I look into those eyes I'm taken to another universe, shining stars and blue sunsets I could paint on a canvas.

And today, I would show the town the beauty behind the blue eyed girl.

It was the 20th of march, a new season of blooming flowers and vibrancy in the cold town. The 20th of march, also the day of my showpiece at the local art gallery.

As the sun dropped down and the moon smiled with the stars, I walked into that gallery with my head held high. I felt nerves bite into my flesh but I ignored the sensation burning in me, plastering that charming grin on my face as I was greeted by my teacher Mrs. Robinson.

"Harry, welcome." She waves. "You look lovely this evening." Her hand rests on my arm as she leads me from the entrance, her eyes were proud and her smile felt warm.

"Thank you." I reply. "Is everyone here?" I question.

"Think so," her head twists around the area, gazing upon the large, crowded gallery with watchful eyes. "You, and the other students in the showpiece are all here."

"Great." I smile. "So we'll be able to go into the showpiece room soon?"

Mrs. Robinson lets an extreme look of proudness wash over her features, her eyes glowing behind those rimmed glasses. "Yes, Harry." She reassures. "Your piece will be on display for all these people to see, very soon."

I couldn't help that stomach wrenching feeling as she said those words, I knew what was happening today but only now did it dawn on me that people were actually going to look at my art. I pull on my collar, plastering a smile on my face as my enthused teacher begins to greet others. I search around the area to find any familiar faces, gazing upon a few students from our school but no one I knew.

Soon enough the showpiece room is opened, the art gallery owner; a balding man with piercing blue eyes walks to the large doors to the exhibit and greets everyone after they become silent. "Welcome all to the national art exhibit showpiece, featuring some of our most talented young artists around the state." He spoke through the microphone, a crisp voice that made my bones shake with nerves. "I'm Michael Tomlinson, and it is with great pleasure to finally open this exhibit."

My mind somehow goes blank when those doors are open, people begin walking into the room with wide eyes and stunning smiles as they admired the range of art. I watched as everyone filed in, filling that large space with eagerness as they began gazing upon the artistic creations of the countries young artists. I felt my heart thud so loudly in my chest, my ears ringing and my mouth dry with these anxious thoughts.