Trials of an Artist (flash fiction)

I stare hard at the blank canvas, yearning for inspiration. My palette is full of color and my brush is eager, yet I’m stumped. I have always dreamed of painting my first masterpiece, one that would send my name down all the right avenues. Established artists would envy me and critics would love me. And yet, my brush is still. My heart is ready but my mind refuses to find focus. I need a muse. Trying to find direction, I decide to load my brush. Cobalt Violet, Alizaren Crimson, Windsor Red Deep; I am overwhelmed with indecision. I close my eyes and blindly swipe my brush across my palette. Without peeking, I begin to paint.

Several times, my arm sweeps in front of me, caressing the canvas. The soft sounds of the brush soothe me. I feel loose now - creative. Not knowing what I had begun to paint, I open my eyes. This is a good start. Eyes now kept open, I continue to paint, turning my first few marks into the completed work I envision they can become. For hours, I labor and create. No longer am I unsure of my ability to do so. This is my masterpiece! This would be envied, loved, and admired! I still need to make some finishing touches, but first, I back up to examine what I have done. The first long strokes I had made were the beginnings of an easel. I had added the blank canvas and a version of myself was off to one side, brush poised to paint. My face was drawn with focus, my eyes intense. Now, all I needed was to fill in the tiny square canvas. In disbelief, I lowered my brush. My palette slid from my hand. I was back where I had started; I had no idea what to paint.