The Canvas

An extended metaphor involving a canvas

She had only one canvas for practice and for keeps. And though she knew the art of layering oil, three old stains still scarred the surface, peeking through any and every patchwork attempt.

When all hope of revival was lost, the canvas was shoved into the far left closet corner, behind graduation gowns and bridesmaid dresses, forgotten in the shadows until the day something struck her.

With dust bunnies in flight, the piece was reborn with layer upon layer of cutout faces and places. But when the canvas resisted rubber cement, she knew it was wrong to cop out with collage.

After removing the mixture of glues and bits of now-pulpy paper, she placed the piece face down in a turpentine puddle.

Somehow the stains remained.

Perplexed, she hung the unframed canvas in the center of the eastern wall,
perfectly perpendicular to her tiny twin bed.

She curled her toes under the down, propped up two pillows to rest her head
and set out to stare at the canvas 'til the stains seemed engraved in her eyes.

An epiphany struck sometime before dawn: the stains were essential elements
demanding incorporation into her final design.

The stains would always remain.

The lower left corner housed the ugliest: a burnt sienna blotch with scribbled words dripping down its side.

The center was a black swirl that some might call a circle, the center of which knew no end, the edges of which were neatly framed in a baby blue shell.

Toward the top and to the right in royal blue and cherry red, sporadic squiggles followed no course, frequently flying off the edges.

The stains would always remain. 

She shoved a coarse brush deep into the blackest abyss of paints, slapping away the stains, erasing the white space with the hue of a moonless night.

She's given up the study of shadow since, now seeing only glints and gleams as she paints the face that light creates when it shines into the shadows.

Reviews

[Kasey Klein]

Hi Rita.

"Enlightenment is not found by imagining figures of light, but by bringing light to the dark." Carl Jung.

I like a person who uses the word metaphor.

You capture a good deal in your words. I'm remind of Grimm.

With dust bunnies in flight -- wonderful image.

I like the image of the canvas rejecting the faces, making things just that much more messy.

[Sara]

O_O i really like this!
It's very smartly written...the grammar is great and everything about it flows very nicely. I always like writing that references art, painting or any other, because I'm an artist. I like the metaphorical stains, how they never go away. It's like flaws in a person or bad memories, they'll never leave, you just have to make them a part of who you are; you have to make them work, because you can't hide them...that sort of thing.
really cool overall. good job!
-sara