Saturday, November 29, 2014

Blank Canvases Discuss Art

The Blank Canvas sat at the art supplies store in a pile of other blank canvases, just waiting to be purchased.

"I hope someone buys me and paints a masterpiece on me!" said the Blank Canvas.
"Slow down there, little fella!" said Old Blanky, a blank canvas who had been unpurchased for years.

Old Blanky was the canvas in the back collecting dust. He was turning slightly yellow because he'd been sitting there a while.

"Why?" said the Blank Canvas.
"Well, why ya in such a rush to get bought?" said Old Blanky.
"Because I want an artist to make a wonderful piece of art on me!!" said the idealistic Blank Canvas.
"Your prospects aren't great, kid." said the Cynical Canvas.
"Why?" said Blank Canvas.

Cynical Canvas and Old Blanky were real discouraging.

"No one who comes through this shop makes it very far." said Old Blanky.
"Don't expect more than a miserable high schooler making a brooding amateur piece of a dead flower, or a white hair retiree practicing a hobby." said Cynical Canvas.
"Well I'll bet I'm gonna be painted on by a master!" said Blank Canvas.
"Hey kid, if you're here then you probably ain't gonna be painted on by a master. This is a chain art supplies store. A master's gonna go somewhere expensive. Or build his own canvas." said Cynical Canvas.
"Except to maybe break our wood and slash us down the middle for a conceptual piece about wastefulness, where that's the whole point. Nooo thank you!" said Old Blanky.

Blank Canvas thought. He realized he needed to adapt to the real world but didn't want to his upright attitude to be completely sucked into the darkness.

"Hmm, well is it really our job to critique artists? We're just supplies who have no place passing judgement!" said Blank Canvas.
"Any way you cut it, there's no way out of here with your dignity intact. Either you're gonna be a part of some no-talent's lousy process, where they eventually give up, or you're gonna sit here and never touch any shade of color." chimed in Existential Pessimist Canvas, who had been sitting quietly.

"Existential Pessimist Canvas! You haven't spoken in ages!" said Old Blanky.
"You're basically just echoing the sentiments of what we've been saying." said Cynical Canvas.
"Well, maybe I wanted to be heard too." said Existential Pessimist.
"Well, so do some of the amateur artists that might buy us!" said Blank Canvas.
"Sounds like vomit!" said Cynical Canvas.
"Suppose you get your way, no one ever buys us, and we stay here til the world ends. We'll be here, totally blank, white, unused and wasted. You want that?" said Blank Canvas.
"Now you're speaking my language." said the Existential Pessimist.
"It's not going to make a difference whether we hang on someone's krap wall with gaudy strokes wiped on us for years then get sold, stored, or trashed, or if someone burns this store to the ground. We're still just krap takin' up space." said Cynical Canvas.
"You're right, there is no point to anything. What a waste." said Blank Canvas.

Blank Canvas's spirit had been broken. He sat and sulked with the rest of them.

Suddenly he got grabbed and bought by a performance artist who took a shit on him that night at a live show. The performance received rave reviews that compared and likened art supplies to human waste.

Blank Canvas was no longer blank and had cool indie cred.

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