When you’re an artist you’re taught to critique masterpieces.
“What could you change about this piece?”
“Can you identify the medium?”
“What is the artist’s message?”
I’ve gutted dozens of artworks.
I ran through the lists identifying the
flaws and pin pointing the meanings.
But then I was struck with a piece
so beautiful that not even God
himself could view it for too long.
I searched for any flaw, I looked for the medium and was unlucky in my persuit. Though my peers could easily critique the piece, I could not.
The more time I spent with this art
It became even harder. So I started
searching for a meaning.
What was evident in my search was to stop looking. I figured I needed this piece in my home, but the price was far too high for my income.
I saved every penny I had, but with he competing bidders the price just rose and I fell short. Plagued by grief I finally realized that when you crave something so wonderful and unforgettable, you must keep trying to hold it dear.
From that day on I have not critiqued another piece, I’ve found my job unsatisfying.
I’ve been given a choice to let the piece go, but how could I let something so angelic fall into the crevices of hell?
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