Masterpiece of Madness

Thick black paint streaks across a bleached canvas. The colour is suffocating as it clings to the clean material of the canvas.  It slashes the calm white and leaves an open wound of bubbling molten Tourmaline that spits and hisses in a scorching protest.

The artist hears this and smears the paint back across her backdrop. Thin crossed eyebrows create waves of furrows over her forehead as she drags her paintbrush through the throbbing wound in frustration.  

She dunks her instrument into a gooey blob of vibrant yellow and splashes it onto the black before running her fingers through the ugly mess before her

She is a conductor; desperately trying to guide an orchestra of colour into collaborating to produce a masterpiece. But oh how they protest! Oh how they wiggle and squirm across the pale backdrop now soiled by warped creativity. Her expression transforms from dissatisfaction to distress as her vision of beauty slips away from her oily fingers.

She knows what she wants. She can see the idea as clearly as if it stood before her with its hand outstretched beckoning to her. But she cannot capture it. Her mind surpasses her abilities and the limitations of her capabilities are overwhelming as they restrain her.

 She spins around and jerkily runs her hand through her knotted hair seemingly unaware of the trail of sticky tangles she leaves behind.

“Red,” she mutters to herself and grabs another brush that shivers in her grimy fist.

There is nothing serene about this moment. There is nothing composed about constructing art. True inspiration has the ability to possess any who attempt to work with it. Inspiration is violent and desperate and can reduce a rational mind to raw madness if it is fierce enough.

However there is something beautiful to be found in the few measly moments of pure artistic form. There is something genuine and wild and striking about watching chaos transform into flawless design.

It is the talent; the ability to create perfection in a moment, without practice, without help, that is so appealing. 

It takes madness to create magnificence. This truth is found in the bloody ear of a man murdered by his own revolver. It is found in the hallucinations and nightmares belonging to The Scream. It sits under the ceiling of the Sistine Chapel wailing soundlessly. In 1955 it was found jumping out of a building from the 11^th floor which had the most exquisite view of France.

It takes nothing more than a moment to create a masterpiece… a moment of pure madness.