:: papaphysix's blog ::

Here's a lovely essay written by one of my students, Tess Wong for an essay writing competition. I love the way she describes stuff! very vivid and imaginative! enjoy!

My mind was blank. Echoing in me like a hollow room, it taunted and flirted with my sanity. My future seemed bleak, my motivation, pulverized. The bland taste of dismay surged through me.

I had a deadline! And yet, I had no inspiration whatsoever. As the saying goes, 'The best way out is always through.' If inspiration would not come to me, I would look for it.

I remember the fated day I landed in New York. I had gazed in stupefaction at the derangement of the place! Although utterly discombobulated, I silently reminded myself that however dreadful New York might turn out to be, it was a galore of opportunities for artists like me. As I explored the streets in trepidation, I was surprised to find quaint shops selling various forms of art. In spite of myself, I was immensely attracted to the vast yet distinctive cultures of the people.

My opportunity soon came knocking on my door, literally. I opened my door to two strangers who had seen my advertisement. One strode into my house, clad in a black starched blazer, and wore a stern expression on his face. He had neatly slicked-back hair that was graying and he looked extremely uncomfortable in my sordid little apartment. He struggled to maintain his composure, while beads of perspiration framed his forehead. I sneaked a peak at him, and he stared back. Immediately, an almost tangible air of animosity hung between us. Throughout the whole interview, astringent remarks that cut into my pride were on his lips perpetually. It was an onerous task convincing him to give me a chance in his company. He was as unyielding as a cactus, I would say, with his hair that looked like pine-needles on his head.

The second man was the exact opposite. He seemed amused by me, and was topped in a simple t-shirt and Levi's jeans, suggesting a relaxed attitude. He had a pleasant smile, marked with sincerity. This man had the air of a true artist. His blithe spirit and enthusiasm towards my works was encouraging. He seemed eager to learn more about art. There was not a hint of arrogance in him.

"Are you sure your works will be a hit in the market?" the first man had sneered at me incredulously, when I showed them my art pieces.

"I feel that as long as I create a piece of art with passion, people will be able to identify with it." I had retorted icily.

"Yes! That's exactly the spirit I'm looking for. It's the passion that will lead to outstanding art pieces!" the second man had acclaimed.

That marked the start of my career in New York.

Now, I just needed the inspiration to get started with my art piece to leave them, especially that 'cactus', awestruck.

I decided to take a stroll in my neighbourhood. I was intrigued by the passion which ignited people at work. There was an old lady who was sculpting the face of a young boy on wood. The intensity of her eyes as she concentrated on the block of wood was infectious. I found myself staring at her as her hands moved deftly around. She slowly glanced up and I smiled uncertainly at her. Her face immediately lit up and broke into a smile. Her beautiful green eyes sparkled and crinkled at the edges. It was the most sincere and entrancing smile ever.

I was taken aback and nervously stammered, "Could, could I paint a¡ a picture of you at work?"

"Of course, this is a sculpture of my grandson. I haven't seen him for so many years that I've lost count! I do miss him." she murmured in thick American slang. Her voice was hoarse yet gentle with a hint of sadness.

I was speechless with emotion. As she returned to her work, I whipped out my pencil and art paper and started drawing. Before I knew it, I had captured her emotion and exotic beauty in my sketch.

Ambling around the little town, I stumbled onto a blind girl painting. Gleefully, she hummed a little tune while her steady hands moved around the page. The colours she mixed together were bright and cheery. It seemed to portray her joy in doing artwork. Hesitantly, I asked for permission to draw her while she painted and she kindly obliged. I managed to imbue her coruscating jubilance into my sketch. She was happy doing what she loved even though she was disabled. That was a daunting trait that humbled me.

I combined the two sketches of these passionate people at work and named my work 'Inspiration'.

Indeed, the best and most beautiful things in the world can neither be seen, nor touched... but are felt by the heart.

Categories: essay [t], life [t]