The Artist - Red, White and Blue

part 4

This piece was one of his more difficult to exicute.

The required elements hadn't been that easy to come by and for a minute he even concidered to take it off the list of ideas he had in his head.

And to be honest this wasn't really his cup of tea.

He never concidered himself to be a patriot or an activist.

He was just an Artist plain and simple, and when an Artist get that special feeling they should always run with that.

His mother told him that sooo many times when he was a kid.

-Look Darling, people might not always get your work, and you know what? That is OK. When you get that special feeling about a project or a painting or what you choose to do, go with that feeling.

That is your Muse talking to you, and you should always listen to her. Even if in the end the finnished result isn't what you wanted, you will always look back on it as a learning experience. Because sometimes we learn more from our misstakes than our most successful work.

His mother was a wonderful teacher and the most perfect person he had ever met in his life.

Every advise she had ever given him in her short life he had hidden in his heart.

And everytime he needed her, she was there.

She was his muse.

And that is why he did this.

Is wasn't perfect, not in anyway.

But the impact of his work, and the meaning of it was plain.

But getting the right components had been a struggle indeed.

Especially the last part.

But his mother always said he had a way with words.

The chairs was sitting in a sort of circle, with huge lumps of skin in a pile in the middle.

The bodys on the chairs looked naked and vulnerable. They appeared to be looking at each other.

This was how we all really looked on the inside.

We where all equal beneath the skin.

He called this....

Red, White and Blue

#HorrorStory #Twitter #Story