The Joys of Art

By Audrey Harlacher

 **3:57 p.m.**

“Don’t you look at me like that!”

The canvas in front of Alice didn’t change, seeing that it didn’t have eyes, or a face, one could only assume Alice was being sarcastic or seeing things. 

Luckily, Alice was not seeing things, but that might have been part of the problem. The canvas taunted her with its blankness. No matter how hard Alice tried she could not see anything on the canvas. The canvas was empty and inspiration had taken a three week vacation to the Bahamas. 

“Fantastic!” Alice groaned, “Just what I need! All day long I’m full of ideas but as soon as I get to the paint and paper they disappear!” At that she flung herself over her bed, hanging her head off the edge. She looked at the canvas from upside down. 

It was just an upside down canvas to Alice’s disappointment. 

Since she had no inspiration and the canvas was being a jerk to her, Alice went to scavenge the fridge for something edible. 

**4:19**

After consuming an apple, two cheese sticks, and a glass of chocolate milk Alice was ready to paint. Of course, she still didn’t know what to paint.

“I hate you.” She glared at the cavas. The canvas didn’t seem to care, but then again, canvases can’t care, due to their lack of human emotion. 

**12:07 a.m.**

Alice was drifting off to sleep when it hit her: avocados. 

She ripped the sheets off of her, leapt out of bed, tripped on her feet, hopped back up, and grabbed a tube of green paint. The inspiration was flowing through her veins, all she could think of was avocados. The paint was swirling on the canvas, the paintbrush dancing in her fingers, oh yeah, it was all coming together.

**2:15 a.m**

Alice was exhausted, but satisfied, her masterpiece was finished. It looked good at the moment, and hopefully it would look good in the morning when she wasn’t running off of adrenaline and art. She cleaned off her brushes and went back to bed.

**10:28 a.m**

When Alice woke up she felt dead, she was tired, “Why did I have to wake up today?” she groaned, but before she could wallow in dread and sleepiness her mom walked in.

“Nice avocados Alice.” She said before walking out.

Alice rolled  out of bed to check if her art still looked good. 

Alas, when the lighting was good and her heart filled with the dark pessimistic-ism of mornings her painting did not look as good as it did when she had first painted it.

“Eh, It isn’t terrible. I did art, whatever. Maybe next time talent and inspiration and motivation will line up and work for me.” She shrugged, "Ah the joys of art."