Here’s a story one needs to write and one needs to hear. Not just a story but part of which is true and a story to many others. I wish those canvases are not broken, the voice that is still loud in her head, the fire that still burns, and the dreams that never died.
An aspiring artist was full of dreams, motivation and immense talent, and a deep passion for the craft. Most important a self-made artist. She sang and she painted. Her beautiful voice carried pure happiness and her brushes added life to the art. Her big glasses never stopped her from doing what her heart could see. Not just art but great at studies and logic as well. Inspired by what she can create with the nothingness a blank piece of paper to mesmerizing art to admire. Determined, She embarks on her artistic journey, fueled by the belief that she can make a significant impact on the art world. Her love for music grows over time. Buying a new synth with the saved money.
During the corona period, everyone was locked inside their houses she bloomed with her art, with her paints and music. The golden period where her passion grew with each passing day. Being more skilled and patient. Finding new ways to reach new people by showing her art to the world. She receives positive feedback from peers and family, further fueling her ambition. She started showing her social media presence and connected with many other artists that appreciated each other’s art.
This social media presence was a great idea where she connected to a social page that organized workshops and exhibitions. The very first time she presented herself as an artist in an offline exhibition boosted her where people from different cities and even from different countries could admire her art and could even buy them.
Her dream took an unexpected turn when financial constraints force her to prioritize stability over her artistic pursuits. She reluctantly accepts the carrier unrelated to arts, which consumes most of her time and energy, leaving little room for creativity. She even shifted to a different city to pursue her officer examination. Family and societal pressure mount as they view her artistry as an impractical and unstable career choice, urging her to abandon her dreams.
Now her synth, those canvases, and brushes are dusted and wait for her to rise again. The dreams still wait for her redemption. Between all this chaos, and all this pressure she waits patiently to fuel the fire. She finds solace in knowing that her art has touched the hearts of others and left an indelible mark on the world, despite the setbacks.
The canvas is shattered, and the synth keys are broken but it’s the artist’s triumph.