Painting Room
It can be tough to make your magic work in the world
Double Snuggle Kitty Swirl
Shitpancake and Jayne like two ying-yangs, sleeping on the love sack
…Time for this week’s story…
Painting Room
In a modern world full of magic, Harold had trouble finding his niche. Magic had gradually permeated the physical world for thirty years. The first decade was full of wonder, the second decade was full of innovation, but the third decade of magic was business as usual. There was nothing mystical and wondrous about it. Instead, people wanted to know how your magic was practical, and how it could help them. Too many people had played up their flashy magic without any substance. Having followed the path of art, Harold discovered his magic but didn't know what to do with it.
Harold’s job working at a grocery store kept his bills paid and food costs low. He would paint at home on his downtime, and on weekends he would try to sell his art. Although most weekends he was at the swap meet, he sometimes got into galleries. While the swap meets didn't pay enough, the people at galleries found his work to be too pedestrian.
“It's so… underwhelming,” one patron said.
“Well, unlike most paintings, this one is magic! You can just walk straight into it,” Harold explained. He then took a step into his painting of a kitchen and opened the fridge. From it he pulled out a glass of lemonade and walked back into the gallery.
“But, I already have a kitchen, and it's better than this one.”
“Well, I do commissions too,” Harold pitched unsuccessfully.
He sold five paintings over the course of six years. When he no longer had room for paintings in his apartment, he stored them at his parents’ house. He stayed close to home, where his friends and family were encouraging and full of love. It helped him deal with the constant rejection. In fact, he had never traveled far from home. All the important things that people spend their whole lives searching for were right there.
On one trip to store more paintings in the garage, his mother gave him a brilliant idea. He painted a play room for kids and donated it to a child care facility as an experiment. The kids loved it. He made the coolest play room and enclosed it so they couldn't wander away.
Still, the children found a way to ruin it. He received a panicked call one day and rushed to the child care center. There were several police patrol units there, lights flashing. Inside the painting, several firefighters rummaged through Harold's painting. Harold offered to help, and ultimately found the child himself. The little boy was having so much fun, be did not want to leave.
The employees promptly returned his painting. His painted play pens were a disaster. The story made the news, making things even more difficult for Harold. He became locally known as ‘that guy that lost a kid in a painting.’
This forced Harold to consider two drastic measures. The first was to stop painting and trying to find a home for his magic. This meant most likely going back to school to re-evaluate his life and learn new skills. The second option was to stick with it a little longer and move somewhere new. This would mean leaving behind friends, family, and everything he had ever known.
With encouragement from those very people, Harold reluctantly left home. He moved several states away to the greater Los Angeles area and found somewhere affordable to live. Truly, Los Angeles was rich with art and people who could afford it.
When he checked in with his loved ones, he didn't tell them how lonely he was, and that he cried himself to sleep most nights. He hadn't wanted to go, but with so much support from his friends and family, he didn't want to let anyone down. He knew his magic was great, he just couldn't figure out how to make it work with the world.
It took months before he got his first gallery show. Potential patrons walked by just the same as before. The few people that did explore his paintings complained that they had to duck to get in.
He had agreed to give it two years before calling it quits. After one year, he was ready to give up. After a year and a half, he figured it was time to pack it in. With only one more gallery show already scheduled, he started making plans to go home. By the time his two years arrived, he would be ready to go.
Harold spent most of his time at his last gallery wandering and drinking wine, criticizing his own work instead of trying to sell it. Half way through the night, he noticed a Japanese man in a suit, standing with another. Speaking quietly amongst themselves, Harold approached them curiously.
“Hello, sir. My name is Minato, this is my client, Kenzo. I am his translator. Do you know who is the artist?” Minato pointed to the painting.
“That's me.”
“Oh, wonderful.” He spoke to his client, who turned to Harold and spoke to him in Japanese. “My client would like to know if he can go inside.”
Harold walked them in. Kenzo and Minato didn't have to duck to enter. They explored the interior, and when they stepped out, Kenzo pulled out a checkbook.
“How much?”
“He wants this one?”
“No, so sorry. My client wants all of them.”
Harold spit out his wine, hacking and coughing. In disbelief, he asked more questions.
“In Japan, there is a premium on space. Apartments are small. This would increase living space in a beautiful way.”
Harold was dumbfounded. He sold all his paintings that night and started experimenting with his magic. Eventually he figured out how to transfer the magic to prints of his paintings. Harold still ended up moving back home, but began traveling around the world to create the paintings people needed. His time away from home had proven difficult, but ultimately, it was exactly what he needed. Without traveling, he never would have found his niche.