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An artist's work

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OC - May be unsuitable for some of a gentle disposition.

Dane leaned back content.

Her eyes cleared as she finally focused in, the passions, energy and exertion of creation done with for the day. Before her each nuance sharpened into focus. Colours came first. Red, as always the sharpest, most vibrant colour, her favourite and one always found in her art. In places the red was over laid with mild, weak yellows that darkened as you moved up the piece, but stopped abruptly before the top. Shades of natural browns started at the crown, some remnants, left untouched, continued down in wisps here and there. In places these brow wisps, over-laid on a soft dusky pink, peeled back to reveal the duller reds and stark white. A few of the white shards now held marks etched in by her tools. Simple geometric patterns, still too complicated for her eyes to focus on yet.

Oranges of many shades; starting pale and thin, getting thicker and darker. Melting over the reds like think, wholesome butter. Some orange lay around on the floor, a thick pigment, it had dripped in clumps, forming small stalagmites on the floor reaching up towards the tapestry above it. Around these stalagmites a small sea of thinner pigments flowed. The sticky red, thin, pale yellow with flecks of dribbling brown, still dripping slowly down from the middle on the left.

Her brow furrowed as she considered the aesthetics of the brown, deciding eventually that it, and it's sadly rancid odour, added to the composition, and chose to leave it until it dried before making any final decisions. It mingled, sensuously with the acidic scent of the thicker yellow. She took a moment to breath in, slowly and deeply, experiencing the piece, not just seeing it.

How much of a piece of art is lost before it is even viewed? The artist is the only one who can really appreciate the full extent and majesty of a piece. The only one who not only sees, but inhales, touches and smells every aspect of it. Idyll thoughts stray through her mind as she glances at the candle she has been working by. It sputters franticly, seeming it's hardest not to disappoint her. She smiles softly as she leans towards it. A final splutter lights up her wide eyes. It seems to become suddenly more frenzied with her proximity. She gives a short sigh and the light is extinguished.

The darkness wraps it's self inside the room. Darker shadows, play on dark walls. Dane whispers away to the door, a slash of light penetrates and then darkness engulfs.

A soft anguished groan pierces the still air.