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He sat on the bench for hours watching and listening as they stopped to observe the painting. Sometimes, art classes filled with young, eager students, would analyze and dissect each brush stroke. Lovers would hold hands while searching the painting for hidden meaning to endorse their romance. Occasionally, the lone observer would stand and seek answers not available on canvass, answers to questions of Why? Why me? Why go on?
He knew the artist well. Self-portraits empty the subject of secrets long-hidden and flaws underneath the covering of skin and tissue. For years, he argued against painting it. He asked what does it matter how a man sees himself? But, he knew. He knew nothing mattered more.
The museum accepted the work with much appreciation, paying tribute to the estimable home-town boy who turned the art world upside down with his incredible gift. Art critics and museum patrons joined the mainstream to review the treasure.
He listened while a teacher gathered her students close and pointed out attributes found in the painting. She emphasized the calmness shown by his demeanor, the modesty of his attire. She saw trust in the eyes and humility in the smile. Students took notes and walked away confident in the knowledge that they saw and understood the painting and the painter. He sat overlooked on the bench; the admirers preferring hypothesis to truth.
He waited patiently for sunset when the light would stream through the tall windows and fall just so on the painting.
The artificial light-source used in museums controlled the measure of light on sensitive art, protecting paintings from the intensity of natural light. But, it was natural light, true light, that revealed the painter.
In the True Light, the demeanor disclosed anger, not calmness. The attire announced pride, not modesty. Where trust was claimed in the eyes there was jealousy and envy. No humility in a smile, but swagger in a smirk.
He sat and watched, fully aware of the ugliness within revealed by the True Light. It would never do to leave while the artificial light distorted, while the comments of devotees praised. He needed to be reminded of his true self, who he would be without forgiveness. Only then, could he portray creation in his work.
Lord, shine Your Light on me
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