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Previous Challenge Entry (Level 1 – Beginner)
Topic: White (10/29/09)

TITLE: The Canvas (i)
By Hilma Conklin
11/04/09


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What can I do with this canvas? All that emptiness? Itís overwhelming and I only have this box of paints and a simple brush. Iím really not a painter. IĎve had no lessons. The paints are calling out to me though. They are so bold and beautiful. What would that red look like splashed up on the canvas? Or the blue brushed across the vastness of white?

Feeble attempts at first. Then as intimidation gives way to excitement, I use color after beautiful color. Sometimes splashing them on with enthusiasm, other times carefully brushing stroke after stroke in strategically chosen places. As excitement turns to confidence I bother not to step back and look at the whole, nor do I stop to think about a plan or what might come next. I know what Iím doing now. Confidence has turned to arrogance and colors are flying. Some colors hit the canvas, some hit the floor. Not just the canvas is being affected, everything in proximity to it has been colored.

Thatís when I feel something tugging at my hand. I struggle, trying to keep my grip on the brush. The other Hand is stronger and gently guides the brush to my side, urging my hand to rest. Exhausted, I relinquish my hold. In utter horror I see the whole picture Iíve just created: red covers blue, yellow mixes with black. What I had been delighting in getting on the canvas now mocks me.

To my amazement the brush is moving again, with little help from me. It moves across the canvas with small movements, then begins to quicken as each new color is added. Stroke after stroke brings new life: colors are blended and become alive and animated. Soon the old is barely recognizable. The horror is overcome by breathtaking beauty.

The design becomes apparent: there was a plan with each flourish and a purpose with each stroke. Each color was lovingly selected and placed strategically. Nothing was random or without intent. You can now see the beautiful design. The details are dazzling.

Wonder sets in with the realization Ė I almost kept my hold on the brush. I desperately wanted to keep putting my own colors on the canvas. Without the intervention of another Hand, the beauty would have been missed, the design would have been lost: the purpose never realized.

Grateful, I now relax my grip and wait for His hand to guide mine. He can pick the colors. He can choose to use a flourish or a simple stroke. He is leadingÖÖ


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marie Mossner11/06/09
loved your article. The imagery was beautiful.