Saw Art Blank Novels & Stories

"Then open your eyes and look." I slammed the Enter key. In the next second, the office monitor lit up. So did the long row of electronic screens outside, the ones that usually displayed model students and honor roll lists. The corridor, loud as a marketplace moments earlier, fell silent. Everyone looked up. On the screen was my exam answer sheet. It was blank. Every section stood empty. In the essay box, drawn in thick black ink, was a huge turtle. Beside it, scrawled in wild, arrogant strokes: [What are you staring at? Never seen someone turn in a blank paper?]

Zach felt a moment of irritation for the intruder, but when he felt the pain from his friend's eyes, the confusion slid out, and replaced by a blank mask, Zach shook his head with despair. That blankness was something Art wore whenever something awful happened– it was like a shield, to put off everyone and everything. Maybe what he saw that night wasn't all the trick of his eyes. May be he did really saw the snake--it was a really big snake, and also, it was no ordinary snake. Maybe there was something really horrible happening here right now and maybe they were all to blind and stupid to see it! His heart was a mess. *** (Lyka)

“They’re just pictures on a wall.” I pressed a hand to my chest, gasping dramatically. “You absolute heathen.” He smirked. “Oh, I’m sorry, my lady. I didn’t realize art was your lifeblood.” “It is,” I said, unfazed by his teasing. “Art is everywhere. It’s in the way we see the world, the way we express ourselves, the way we—” “Oh, look,” Sage interrupted, pointing ahead. “A circle.” I followed his gaze to a large canvas on the wall, where, as he had so eloquently put it, a single circle was painted in different shades of blue, red, and gold.

The memory hit me the next morning, sharp and clear as broken glass. It was the smell of coffee that did it. Not my cheap grocery store blend but the rich dark aroma of the kind they served at the Williamsburg gallery. Eight years ago, I was all sharp edges and bold colours. Maya Vance, art student, minor in chaos. My thesis project was a series of sculptures made from reclaimed metal and neon light, angry and beautiful. The opening night was a blur of noise and cheap wine.

I couldn't shake the image of the guy, the disappointment in his eyes as his creation crumbled at his feet. As the minutes ticked by, the weight of my remorse deepened. I found myself stealing glances at the empty space where his sculpture had once held a promising form. The unfinished clay on my own workspace seemed to pale in comparison to the unintentional void I had contributed to in his artistic journey. Maya, sensing my preoccupation, approached with a comforting smile. "Hey, Blaire, don't be too hard on yourself. Accidents happen, especially in the world of art," she reassured, her voice carrying the wisdom of someone who understood the unpredictable nature of creativity.

I gather leather suitcase and matching trunk, adorned with travel stickers and scratches from countless adventures, into the gates of the Blank Slate Gallery. The space stretches out like a cathedral, high ceilings and sparse furnishing making it feel both grandiose and intimate at the same time. And get this: not a single piece of art graces these bare walls. The title of the gallery looks pretty much like the gallery itself – everywhere looks, well, blank. Like you'd expect the typical gallery activities – art installations, exhibitions, and chic gatherings – but there's nothing.

This was another reason as to why I said it was a good thing that I had shopped for a lot of painting related stuffs at once instead of getting the stuffs little by little, and I was super glad that I had purchased this particular type or canvas which the host Had been referring to. I continued to watched the video and watched as the video suddenly got blank only to come back to life after about five seconds, and here, it revealed that the msn was stabbing before a canvas which he had been referring to, moments ago, the type of painting brush which he had been referring to was also being held in his right hand.

Roman was watching closely, acting like who was calculating my every move. I mixed the marbles and rock together, then fixed it into a mounted building filled with red color fillings. The timer beeped so hard, immediately one of the exam board members stood up signaling everything was over I placed the art on the flat board and presented it on the long table that everyone centred, the wolves eyes were glaring all over the art. Each of them carried their papers close by, the first wolf took the piece of art on his table and scanned its appearance from the top to the bottom.

Annabeth stands back to admire her handiwork, and I can’t help but clap my hands like a kid. With the addition of each work of art, the walls have come to life, the different shades of grey providing the perfect foil for the bright drawings and paintings. Next to each frame is a white card with the name of the artist and title of the artwork, along with a brief description and a price.

I say. "You sound like you're talking about a stray puppy, or something," Evans says, lightly teasing. I grin and shrug, turning away from the canvas. "Artwork has to be taken care of. Whoever buys it... I just hope they appreciate it, you know?" We continue along the line of easels. There are several beautiful pieces that I admire, but none of them are as striking as the abstract piece with the blurring strokes of blue.