“I am seeking, I am striving, I am in it with all my heart!”

                                                    -Vincent Van Gogh

                                                           OVERTURE

A concerto of gales was the only sound to be heard on this cold blue night. The breeze drifted through a distant land, skimming atop the vast yellow blankets of wheat dancing to it’s melody, where olive trees stood firm among the tartan fields of crops. Quietly sitting contently in the middle of that wavy landscape of mother nature’s brush strokes, lay a house.

This olive casa belonged to a small family. The candle-lit window stood out like a bright speck in the midnight scenery, and in that window, stood a figure of a young man of pale grey skin.

His hands waved around the air in a fluid motion, with every seamless movement, wild vivid colours flowed out of his palms in beautiful strokes, illustrating elegant compositions against an invisible canvas.

A young boy sat next to him, speechless in unblinking awe and admiration, as the grey-skinned man proudly narrated the grand tales and mystical lore of the world to his son.

                                                           Man V.O. :

                                                            (Calmly)

                       “Outside of our universe there is the white canvas of                                              nothingness. No gods. No Kings. However, within that                                          nothingness is man’s will to break the emptiness of                                                one’s life with his ability to dream and create.”

The boy continued to watch excitedly with a wide-eyed, innocent glare. His big, sapphire eyes were fixated on the lights above him, silently mystified by the motion of colours, as his father continued to create humanoid figures who playfully glided around his hands. Like ballet dancers, they gracefully twirled in a slow adagio to a harmonious fashion of reds, blues and yellows.

                                                          Man V.O. :

                       “This power is called ART. And with it, one can bring                                              their wildest imaginations and most creative ambitions                                        into reality.

                         Whether it be a petite charm, or a très’ grande masterpiece,                                Art gives us the beginning, Art gives us the end.

                         We have dreams...dreams that spit on the dullness of                                            these mundane, empty plains. Our dreams bring colour                                        to grey beings like us, and we never tire of whatever                                              new surprises it may bring! -

                         This is the ultimate form of creativity my son, this kind                                        of gift is far beyond what us beings can understand.                                              These gifts stretch far beyond the infinite horizon that                                        lies in those plains of nothingness.”

The vivid images started to glow brighter triumphantly as they congregated in a circle, spinning faster and faster. They started to blend into each other, creating even more strange shades and glow brighter as they pulsed in rhythmic waves.

The spectrum burst outwards like a display of fireworks, the primary colours of the figures started to intertwine, sparkling and hypnotic, like the grand finale of a play. The spectacular display enriched the air around them with excitement, putting on a magical show of enchanting proportions. Splashes imploded amongst each other like fireworks, as they swooped down and rejoiced around the boy with high-spirited vigour. Streaks of light raced around in a spiral, leaving a multicoloured, swirling trail behind them, the aurora starting to glow once again.

The spectrum suddenly faded into thin air, as the boy reached out in attempt to grab these hypnotising lights from his father’s large hands. He watched the untouchable vapour fall between his small fingers with dismay.

His father’s proud face turned slightly more serious, as he spoke in a more sombre tone with less rigour and excitement.

                                                          Man V.O. :

                       “But as Art is the limitless power to create, it can                                                   also be the power that can harm and even destroy.                                               And with it comes large responsibility, thus Art is                                                   forbidden to many, and granted only to the fortunate.”

The boy’s glare fell down onto his small palms, feeling disheartened. He then looked up to his father who gave his son a comforting smile.

                                                          Man V.O. :

                      “Even with such limitations, you must remember                                                     that man is not easily submissive to the fate he has                                               been foretold. You mustn’t waver or be intimidated                                               by such laws, if you truly desire these gifts, you must                                           prove yourself worthy of such powers, my son.”

He patted his son’s head and pointed out the window. In the far distance amongst the dark dull landscape and black colossal mountain valley, lay glimmers of colourful light and velvet auroras.

                                                         Man V.O. :

                      “One day my son... just one day, you can become an Artist.                                    At the forbidden and only Art academy in existence.”

The man looked into the glistening, sapphire eyes of his innocent son, as he tucked him into bed and stroked his hair.

                                                         Man V.O. :

        “The ultimate creativity, through the infinite plains of nothingness.”

The father kissed him goodnight, and extinguished the lights of his domain with a flick of his fingers. He walked away from the dimly lit bedroom doorway, and the sound of his footsteps grew distant as the creaks of the wooden floor became quieter.

But the boy remained awake. Still mesmerised by the tale, he looked out his window into the horizon, wondering what lay in that starry sea in the sky. He stared at the stars in deep thought, but eventually his body succumbed to the comforting sensation of sleep, his small eyelids closing as he began falling into a deep dream...