Making Their Self

The Artist had painted and drawn all their life. It provided a reasonable income and had left them with an impressive flat and studio in an area of the city that people said they would give anything for to be able to live there.

The work of the Artist hung on private walls and paid and public galleries. The pieces were not cheap and most people could hardly afford prints. There were rumours that a number of The Artists’ works had been forged or stolen, but whatever, none of this mattered to the artist.

Six months ago The Artist stopped taking commissions, purportedly to work on a final magnum opus, although it was not specified what that would be, but agents, buyers and the public’s attention was more than piqued. What was this final piece going to be? While no one knew the age of The Artist, they were certainly not old and seemed in the rudest of health so an artistic swan song seemed premature to say the very least.

The Studio of The Artist was now out of bounds to everyone, even close associates, The Artist had no known friends although was often seen out dining, drinking and dancing til early hours, but whenever questioned , never gave anything away about the final work that was surely going to be unleashed on the world at some unspecified day in the future.

That was a concept The Artist loved , The Future, That Which Isn't and Can Never Be Until It Is, and then it is The Present and The Future is still an unattainable goal that can only be guessed but not ascertained.

The dining, the drinking , the dancing always take place in The Present and The Artist loved all of them, and once the experience was gone it then was no longer The Present , but had wandered into the Past and was now an enigma as impossible to capture as The Future was , but it was in the memory of The Artist although it could never again be touched. It also could always provide inspiration for The Art of The Now before becoming part of the pats and hanging on a paying client or Museum's wall.

Although The Artist was still out in public, people commented that they seemed to be becoming more androgenous and ethereal , almost ghostly pale, but still fully functional and totally able to command whatever circle they happened to be part of at any time.

No one was worried

They were intrigued

And The Artist entered the Studio, but this time the door was left open and the door to the flat was not looked, no alarm was set.

…. And The Artist continued with their final magnum opus, it was actually a self portrait and the intention was to throw themselves into it, body , mind and soul. Their palette was made up of their flesh and blood and the portrait drew to a conclusion. The palette and brushes hit the floor, the magnum opus self portrait was complete.

Of The Artist,there was no sign , just a final amazing self portrait, the proceeds from the sale were to be donated to a local children’s hospital.

This was almost “Dorian Grey” in reverse. When the painting was hung people became unnerved, thinking they were being watched or followed. Stories of how it was created and what really happened to The Artist became urban legend, people claimed to know where The Artist was, that they were painting on a barge in Paddington or was a street artist in Edinburgh, but usually after they had been affected by that final painting.

Some people do become immersed in their own art and sometimes never return to this plane, as they wander the higher paths and choose new destinations and methods,