The Critic
Today’s post is based on a writing prompt I shared in a previous Daily Drafts & Dialogues post. Keep reading to see what I wrote, and to access more writing prompts.
What I wrote below is based on the following writing prompt: Write a scene in which a critic plays a big role in influencing the main character's thoughts or actions.
The Critic
“Most of us are our own worst critics. But don’t be yours. You have potential. Keep at it.”
That’s what he had said to me all those years ago underneath harsh fluorescent lighting in the back of a moldy-smelling workshop he operated. Sodden paint brush in hand, I vowed to heed his advice, to do everything the way I was told, just so. I was an impressionable adolescent, and to be as good as him at anything in life, in art, was my only goal. He was the teacher, the master. He knew what to do, what it took. And he had seen something in me.
But now he's telling me something different. Now he's telling me— well, he's telling the gallery owner, to be more precise— that my work is foolish and childish. ‘Uninspired’ is the exact word he used. And the irony of his hypocrisy nearly knocks the life force out of my chest, because the works he's criticizing now are directly influenced by his instruction and drills and the example of his creations years ago.
My current critic was the one who had taught me how to mix and blend the hues of the oceans and skies I painted. How to outline the trees and their weathered boughs in different seasons, precisely yet freely. How to grant an off-kilter yet intimate perspective with every brushstroke, stipple, and layer. And now he was contradicting everything he had ever taught me, making me question everything I thought to be true.
Others meandering and mulling about the gallery lauded my techniques, my passion, my artistic viewpoint. Some pointed out features in the pieces displayed—pieces of me, my soul, my time, my memories, my energy— that moved them somehow as their plus-ones oohed and aahed and nodded along, clueless but present somehow. While others only came for the wine, the pomp and circumstance. But he, my long-ago mentor, came to berate the truest things I have ever expressed on canvas. Things that he essentially helped me create, in both obvious and subtle ways over the years.
It's my show, so I can't entirely disappear. Though I wish I could crawl right into one of my paintings hanging on the wall and hide, possibly forever. To be anywhere but here. Because I can't stand the sight of him, or my attempts at valuable work anymore.
I am turning to head outside for some fresh night air, to take a break, a breath, to recalibrate, when the gallery owner approaches me with large bright eyes.
“We just sold the last piece,” she announces, clinking her wine glass against mine.
“To whom?”
“Some crusty old art professor.” She shrugs.
“The one who said my work is uninspired?” I'm baffled.
She laughs, loudly.
“Everyone's a critic. Especially him. He is here for every single debut exhibition. Tells me he hates everything on display, then waits to buy the last item up for sale at the end of the night. Does it every single time.”
“Really?” Again, I'm baffled.
“Yep. Even did it at his own debut exhibition a decade or so ago. Complained that the work being put up for sale wasn't his best, that only quacks or wannabes and lowlifes would be interested in buying it. Then complained when everything sold, after some anonymous buyer bought his last piece. Such an odd duck, that one. But he’s also my best customer.”
So, that adage is true after all. We are our own worst critics… but can also be our own most devout supporters, it turns out.
I might revise, edit, or add to this draft in the future. Stay tuned.
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© All Rights Reserved by K.E. Creighton; Creighton’s Compositions LLC. The above work is a piece of fiction. While, as in all fiction, the literary perceptions and insights are based on experience, all names, characters, places, and incidents either are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously.
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Today’s Writing Prompt
Writing Prompt: In the Rain
Write a sene that takes place in the rain.
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