The Painting Rebekah Anderson

The Painting

Deep breath in deep breath out. It’s the moment The moment when paint and canvas collide That very first brush stroke The first step. In one swift motion I lift my hand and a snake like figure Escapes from the tip of my harmless weapon. It whirls on the spread of blank opportunities. Then, I reach for a much larger brush and dip it into a bright flaming, red. When it touches the canvas It sets it ablaze Lighting a fire in the room. Pink comes next Then oranges and yellow and even purples. A whirlwind of color Setting the fire in my heart and mind. I set down my brush and gaze at the beautiful mess. “There” I say inside. A sky. Next comes a blue It’s fire against ice Battling to see who is more intense The cool or the warm. The blue calls for backup blues in varying shades and hues. It summons greens and teals and even some reds to reflect And betray the fire above. It is a raging battle But when I stop to again gaze the once raging war becomes Peaceful Still

Silent At peace with each other. Me and them sit in silent harmony Until I decide that any lake needs trees. I dip my brush into a dark brown and create little lines The trunks Bare and weak. When finished I wash my brush Violently sending it into a whirlwind of murky water before Wiping it dry on a towel. Then I dip it into a sap green So strong but dull I create sharp gentle strokes to imitate the pine needles of the Evergreens So much so that the real ones standing just outside look at Themselves in shame. I steal from the sky and water and add a hue of bright yellow To the still wet green Creating a pop An explosion that wakens the trees Rattling their once lifeless bones. They spring to life Alert It’s only a matter of time before they will get lonely and Grieve for a friend. To satisfy their need I use the same technique and use the Sap green and make a little round splotch that is slightly Textured. It doesn’t look like much But then the yellow comes charging in It wakes the green like a sergeant waking a sleeping soldier. It transforms a once lifeless Meaningless splotch into a happy little bush Full of life.

I continue on my journey Little tweak here and there GIANT tweak there A tornado of brush strokes paint and movement An asynchronous dance Moving so fluidly but so unpredictable. My mind races Like a well-oiled machine Not a thought in its head Only following what it knows what is right Until suddenly it slows and halts. Sign the name. Refresh it. Deep breath in deep breath out. Done.

Rebekah Anderson, Grade 8 Anoka Middle School for the Arts, Anoka Teaching Artist, Frank Sentwali