He was his cheerful self, on the left side of the house, which seemed brighter with his daughter's presence. He created a small area for her home-schooling, it accompanied beanbag chairs, a small table and a make-shift studio.
"Let's begin our history lesson, little bird," he said.
"The Scream." He walked towards the chalkboard, next to it lied his isle. There was graffiti on the walls which gave it a youthful glow, and wood sculptures marked the windowsill. He started to create a mind map using one picture as the main subject.
"What do you see?" Tony's bird was no ordinary student; she was quite intelligent for a five-year-old.
"He looks scared." she tilted her head and her black pigtails swayed.
"How so?"
"He is holding his face-like this." she demonstrated with a giggle, squeezing her cheeks with her hands.
"Why would he do that?"
"He's probably scared." She started to fiddle with something on the desk.
"People scream when they are scared, no?"
She nodded. Tony turned his back to face the board and grew intensely stern for a few seconds. As if speaking to himself," The story goes, that he was walking with his friends on the pier, and suddenly the sky turned blood-red and; a sudden scream came over him." He closed his eyes and shook his head, groaning before running a hand through his hair. "But you don't need to know that." He turned and smiled. "You'll just need to remember the colours."
"Why?" She asked wide-eyed and; he crouched down to sit with her.
"Because-my bird..." He put an arm around her and hugged her. " One day the sky will turn red, and it will make you want to scream."
She looked up at him." Why would I want to scream?"
He smiled." Because it will mean that I am no longer with you."
She started to fiddle with a marker on the table and drew on the sheet of paper given to her. She was drawing clouds. "Where will you go, dad?" Her hair was hiding her face and; he could feel her disdain.
"In a painting." When he said that she stopped what she was doing and looked up at him.
"Will you be a pretty painting?"
When she smiled; he took his hand and patted her head. "Of course, it will be the best one." When he looked away; he added," My final one." She nodded and yawned, noticing her fatigue he stood up. "When you're up for it we will paint." He picked her up and took her to her room.
While being comfy; under the sheets, she held his finger." Can I paint the sky?" she asked.
He was taken back by her question."Why would you want to do that, little bird?"
She didn't look at him when she replied," So that it doesn't turn red."
YOU ARE READING
The Painters Death Wish
Terror*Editing* Art can be beautiful and disturbing. Sculptures can be made from clay, but never flesh. In this circumstance, art is debated and adored. Will an artist be able to put himself into his work with no self-portrait? Donatella Claire, an art s...
