The Sketching of Paintings

It starts of with a white canvas - as white as the snow and as clear as water. In the space of a blink, the white is contrasted with speckles of colour, the once deserted clarity is gracefully broken with vivid disconnections. And so it begins, the acquaintances have been made, and the image is beginning to form.

As time progresses, so to does the picture take form and shape. The speckles of colour, lose their disconnection, becoming much more expansive. It is no longer the white that is broken by the colour, but the colour broken by white. The clarity may be dispensed of, but it is replaced by something much more mysterious yet much more inviting none the less. And further the picture deepens.

The picture begins to take shape, the hues and the tones changing the emotions within the picture. It is far from the white canvas that once stood, displaying a variety of brush strokes and colour. Behind each which lies a meaning, a thought, a love. The picture nears it completion, yet in place of the clarity that once stood, there is a sea of emotion, a horde of thought and above all else a fountain of love.

The final accents are placed in the picture, bringing to life not only the images that stand, but defining each and every thought, emotion and meaning within the picture. The picture is complete. It is no longer a blank canvas of endless clarity, rather it is an image that carries with it the thoughts of one, the emotions of many and the love of everyone.

So what relevance is this? To be honest I don't know exactly myself. Its a thought that I stumbled upon when thinking of my friends. I suppose the painting of a picture is like the developing of a friendship. It starts of blank, and as they get to know each other the picture slowly and surely paints itself. The tones and hues represent the form that relationship is taking, with each tones altering the face of the relationship. The final accents, represent that which draws the people together - the bond, the unity, the companionship.

Image an art gallery, and a single hall of the best, most thought provoking, most loved and most beautiful pictures. That is what a one's heart can be liken too. Each picture representing the closest and most loved friends and family in one's life. I find myself regularly staring at the newest picture being hung in the gallery. The process of painting this picture was neither long nor scary. In a glimpse of an eye the picture was painted and hung before a single bated breathe could be drawn. Having said this, the picture is as beautiful and as loved as any other picture in the gallery. The love isn't for the picture, rather for what it represents - the beginning of something new, something that has already found its was into my heart. Despite the short time, I find myself unable to comprehend ever taking down the painting or even replacing it. It seems, my heart has accepted it for eternity, a thought that is amazingly comforting.

As this blog is posted, could it be that another picture is being painted. Alas the canvas is waiting and the brush and palette sitting patiently, waiting for the right encounter from them to dance across the clarity of white.