Undiscovered Beauty - a flash fiction very short story about art, artists, communication and mistrust by Rob Hopcott

Amanda applied a last touch of green to the canvas with her finest detail paint brush, stepped back and enjoyed the sensation of the landscape's colours exploding in her mind and senses.

She could hear the water trickling down the tiny stream. She could sense the movement of the brown trout that were scarcely shadows in the deep pool. The old water wheel towered above providing a focal point to the picture giving it reassurance and strength. Sunlight seeped through small breaks in the clouds hinting at the ordinariness, permanence and stability yet desolation of the beautiful country scene she had created.

A tear trickled down her cheek. She knew it was one of the best pictures she'd ever painted. The sheer enjoyment of creating something new and beautiful filled her with a satisfaction that made all the effort worthwhile.

She had never sold any of her many paintings but then she had never offered any of her paintings for sale. Instead, when they were finished, they were consigned to an attic bedroom at the top of the house.

Occasionally, a friend or a relative would visit and would see some of her paintings and tell her she should show them to the public. Always, she would smile modestly and pretend she loved them too much to lose them.

The truth was that Amanda longed for more people to see her paintings. In her dreams, she relished the idea of giving up her job in the local supermarket so she could paint full-time and give expression to the ideas, shapes, colours and pictorial stories that crowded her senses daily.

Amanda lacked confidence in her abilities. The tutor of the art evening classes at the local college had told her she should take a course in assertiveness. She never had. He had said she was an extremely good artist. She had believed him but saw no way to realise her dream of painting full-time.

When a leaflet had fallen through her door seeking unknown artists for a new local art gallery, she kept the leaflet but had not called the telephone number prominently displayed. She was suspicious of the gallery owners motives.

Perhaps she would pass by in a few months and see what was happening and look through the window if the pictures were as good as hers. She wouldn't go into the gallery and certainly wouldn't talk to the owner who Amanda suspected was probably some wealthy individual who got rich exploiting the talents of vulnerable and gullible aspiring artists.

Amanda sighed and walked upstairs to the attic bedroom to put the picture away. She was rostered to work on the night shift of the local supermarket and she was already late.

Almost exactly five miles away, Stuart sat by his telephone in a large empty building with spaces on the wall waiting for pictures from unknown artists. In six weeks he'd only received one call from the thousands of leaflets he had personally put through the doors of private houses in the area and it had been from somebody trying to sell him double glazing.

Spending money on home improvements was out of the question. He'd invested all his savings into the gallery where he now sat and waited for the telephone to ring from artists needing promotion.

This was the last day he would wait. Without pictures, his gallery couldn't open. The deal he had devised for the artists gave them all the money from the first five sales during which time he was willing to fund the gallery as a gesture of goodwill to win the artist's confidence. Afterwards, he was hoping to charge 10% towards the cost of running the gallery and provide him with an income so that he didn't have to go back to working in the local national book chain.

All his life, he had dreamed of running a gallery and passionately believed there must be artists who had not been discovered who were producing wonderful creations that others, who enjoyed art as he did, would love to buy.

As the next day dawned, cold and grey, Amanda laid the first strokes of colour onto her next canvas before rushing off to work in the local supermarket and, in another part of town, Stuart walked into his local estate agents to put his still empty art gallery up for sale.

The estate agent thought the building might eventually be bought by a developer to be converted into flats.

The End

Bye for now

Rob
(Rob Hopcott - free online author)

Would Art flourish in your local area if more people talked to each other and shared their dreams, aspirations and talents?

Do people talk to each other these days or do we prefer to relate on a one to one basis with mass media such as television, video or computer games.

What you think, I'd love to know :-)

Enjoyed this? You may also enjoy 'Lost and Found' my short flash fiction story about lost property, poverty, honesty and the good life.

This short flash fiction very short story about art, artists, mistrust and poor communication is copyright Rob Hopcott 2008, all rights reserved. All characters and places in this flash short fiction art and artists story and other free on-line humor, short stories, flash fictions, science fictions, micro-fictions, sudden fictions, post card fictions or very short stories on this site, are fictitious and no reference is intended to any person or organization, living or otherwise.