October 6 ~ Thursday ~ 4th hour Art 1
{Art 1 - Aishida, Kasumi, Kazuo, Ritsuko, Shuichi}
Shuichi sat before a blank canvas. Today they were working on painting with oils. Their goal for today was to paint their inner demons.
Staring at the multi-colored oils, Shuichi had the urge to use the blacks and the dark greens. It wasn’t that those were his favorite colors; they just seemed to call out to him.
He tried to depict the “inner demon” inside him, but came up empty handed. He thought of things that caused him troubles: his father, the Yakuza, the Sawada’s, responsibility. The more he thought of these things, the further his mind seemed to sink away from any thread that could lead him to finish this dreadful project.
He eventually took some colors; the dark greens and blacks, and began to draw something; to draw anything.
He didn’t look at it as a whole. He didn’t want to. He had got the trance he needed to complete the piece. He wouldn’t see what his mind thought his “inner demons” were.
Has the time crept towards the end of class, Shuichi finished the drawing. He set the oils back in their original places, disregarded any stray marks that had been made unintentionally on his hands, and for the first time, really looked at the painting.
What he saw upset him. He had ended up drawing a boy sitting in the corner. The boy’s knees were drawn up before him, giving him a place to rest his folded arms which cradled his head. The corner was relatively dark, where most of the blacks had been used. The picture was on a small scale, making the boy in the corner to appear distant.
He was tempted to throw the picture in the trash. It couldn’t mean he was lonely or anything because he wasn’t. He had his family. He had Kiyokata. He had his friends at school. He couldn’t have been lonely...
Shuichi sat before a blank canvas. Today they were working on painting with oils. Their goal for today was to paint their inner demons.
Staring at the multi-colored oils, Shuichi had the urge to use the blacks and the dark greens. It wasn’t that those were his favorite colors; they just seemed to call out to him.
He tried to depict the “inner demon” inside him, but came up empty handed. He thought of things that caused him troubles: his father, the Yakuza, the Sawada’s, responsibility. The more he thought of these things, the further his mind seemed to sink away from any thread that could lead him to finish this dreadful project.
He eventually took some colors; the dark greens and blacks, and began to draw something; to draw anything.
He didn’t look at it as a whole. He didn’t want to. He had got the trance he needed to complete the piece. He wouldn’t see what his mind thought his “inner demons” were.
Has the time crept towards the end of class, Shuichi finished the drawing. He set the oils back in their original places, disregarded any stray marks that had been made unintentionally on his hands, and for the first time, really looked at the painting.
What he saw upset him. He had ended up drawing a boy sitting in the corner. The boy’s knees were drawn up before him, giving him a place to rest his folded arms which cradled his head. The corner was relatively dark, where most of the blacks had been used. The picture was on a small scale, making the boy in the corner to appear distant.
He was tempted to throw the picture in the trash. It couldn’t mean he was lonely or anything because he wasn’t. He had his family. He had Kiyokata. He had his friends at school. He couldn’t have been lonely...