The Muse

One year later, and this is all I've got.

The Artist stared blankly at his canvas as if expecting it to paint itself. Once, his brush moved effortlessly to manifest the masterpieces that formed in his head. Now, it seemed as if the universe itself had bound his hands from even the simplest of creations.

The walls were so filled with past work that the excess was stacked into the corners. Bottles, glasses, and torn canvases half decorated with paint were scattered across the floor. The Artist had become so obsessed with his inability to create that he had turned to substance, half hoping to create the spark he needed, half hoping to numb his imagination entirely.

He cried out, begging whatever god that was ignoring him to return his muse. Without his art he had no purpose and no happiness. Without his art, life simply wasn't worth living. He had tried everything: landscapes, impressions, even the simplest of lines seemed to mock him. Suddenly, he saw her. The clearest face he had seen in weeks. He grabbed a brush.

Fine lines and soft curves formed her face, the same strokes were mimicked throughout her body. An arsenal of brushes and multiple palettes were employed in the formation of this goddess, this shapely woman who seemed to be his only comfort.

The strokes were gentle and filled with zeal in the beginning, but his love soon turned to hate and the strokes became more rough and imprecise. Her bare skin, so full of life and warmth, was soon marred by heavy strokes of black and slashes of red. He threw his palette aside, slinging several brushes with it. He began to scream.

He cursed her as if putting all the sins of the world onto her. The Artist grabbed one of the few remaining brushes and snapped the wooden stem across his knee. The sharp point dug through his arms in a terrible way, he soon mirrored The Woman. His screaming continued and turned into tears as he slapped at the canvas, his blood mingling with the paint. Soon the only thing differentiating the two was a slightly darker shade of red.

The Artist pressed his face into his hands and began to sob. Two delicate hands wrapped themselves around his wounds.

"Why are you doing this to yourself?" The Woman asked.

"You're doing this to me!" The Artist cried, looking up.

The Woman, still part of the canvas where no paint has been applied, pulled him closer. She kissed him.

"Complete me." she said.

His hands grasped for the tube of paint he had used for her skin. Lacking a brush, he used his hand. The two were soon embraced, kissing passionately. Tears still fell down his face, a mix of anger, joy, and determination.

His hands followed the curves of her body. Her breasts, her hips, he felt more and more of her take shape. She wrapped a completed leg around his waist and the canvas fell to the floor. The Artist was pulled with her.

The Woman undressed him, her marred skin pressing against his. They became completely intertwined, writhing, spreading color to every corner until not a bare spot remained on either The Artist or the canvas. His sweat fell onto her skin, mingling with the paint, dripping down into pools of ink on the canvas.

Her body, perfectly crafted from his mind, rose above his torso. Her hips rocked rhythmically, building to a perfect moment of ecstasy. Ink flowed from her. The Artist stepped back. His creation complete. He collapsed to the floor. A painting of a beautiful woman in the arms of her lover stood silently over him.

Author's Note

One year later, and this is all I've got.

Reviews

[Ookpik]

Hey, so I read this through the group "critique me" and I thought I'd offer my two cents.

a) The concept is really sound - demonstrating the relationship between the artist and his painting through sexual imagery and euphoria is a good comparison for sure.

(check out Dante Gabriel Rossetti if you're looking for more reference materiel.)

b) Your writing is good, especially through the second half. You use descriptive language well and your sentences have a decent flow.

(watch for sentences that sound abrupt when re-reading. If you find yourself having to stop and start again you can bet your audience is too.)

b) I liked the introduction - the "Once" and "Now" paragraph immediately provides context for the character and that's a smart thing to convey at the beginning of any story.

(Maybe expand on the introduction with specifics,)

E.G. "Once, his brush moved effortlessly to manifest the masterpieces that formed in his head. Men and Women of all class and denomination would stand in line for hours, pay their five pence and gaze aimlessly at the wonders that flowed from the tips of his brushes."

(Just an example, but the more effort you put into the introduction the greater the attachment the reader will have with your characters.)

d) Be careful with repetition - the word "create" or "creation" popped up pretty frequently.

(You can google synonyms to find replacements - E.G produce, fashion, develop, forge etc.)

(This can be a good way to find language that matches the mood and connotation of the story.)

e) And lastly, I liked the title - the artist and his muse is an interesting topic and I would've liked to see the title tied in to the language somewhere)

Nice work though, and if the feedback was unwarranted feel free to pass over it.

- Ook

[Jordan]

I dig it. Especially D. I noticed that as well, but I try to avoid too much editing while writing. As for E, your guess is as good as mine.

[Agyani]

There are quite a few things I liked about this work, Jordan.

The first thing is that you took up a topic that has its barrage of cliches, but managed to create a fresh and refreshing story. Despite entertaining the cliche of the artist struggling to find psychological balance in life, looking for inspiration, and battling with substance abuse, you didn't let it come out as a run of the mill plot. There is depth in your work, and it stimulated my imagination as any reader would want. So good job!

The language and structure of the story, though not the most beautiful, is certainly strong and competent. Perhaps you could try and play with words a bit. A bit of sentence restructuring could help you with removing the repetitions, as Ookpik already highlighted.

Lastly, the sexual angle you took to bring out the story, or rather the intimate angle ('sexual' is a bit pejorative to this work I feel), doesn't have an ounce of lack of imagination. It didn't come out enforced and forced down the reader's throat. Like The Artist's initial strokes, it was gentle and filled with zeal.

I'd love to read whatever you write next.

[Onlyme]

Wow. a remarkable piece of work, great imagery inside my mind's eye. like a cinematic vision that flows with perfection. Beautiful done.

[Zoya]

An artist is just another normal, sane person without his muse. Loved the story you've crafted on the same.
Wonderfully original work. Good job!