The Artist

Elise stared at the blank canvas in front of her. She held a paintbrush in one hand and a paint palette in the other. She stared long and hard at the canvas, trying to think of what to paint. After a long while of absolutely no ideas, Elise let out an exasperated sigh. She set down her paints and went over to her musty old window, which, although it was not very pretty itself, had a beautiful view of the city and ocean below.

Elise had wanted to be an artist all her life. Then that morning an opportunity had presented itself. She had been slowly walking down the street when a short, thin man marched up to her. He had introduced himself as the manager of a small art gallery down the lane. He told her that he had seen her selling her paintings at the market and he wondered if she wanted to paint something for his gallery. Elise had been very pleasantly surprised by the offer and humbly agreed.

Now, as she sat at her window and tried to think of what to paint, she looked down at the city for inspiration. She knew that her painting had to be perfect, for it was her first painting to be hung in a gallery! The city was very beautiful, but also very imperfect, and Elise knew that would never do. Suddenly Elise remembered something her mother had once told her, and she knew what to paint.

As Elise’s brush gently stroked the canvas, she let her mind take over, telling her hands to gracefully fly about the paper. She painted rivers, hills, and tall towering buildings. She hummed as she worked, not worrying about the  way her painting would turn out.

The next day, when the gallery manager came by to collect the painting from Elise, he took one look at the beautiful city she had painted and said, “It’s perfect.”

Elise smiled. “Nothing is perfect,” she said softly, quoting her mother, “only beautiful. And beautiful is far from perfect.”