MY SPRING, BEGINS

2. 404 : Inspiration not Found

Wayo's POV

Spring. A season of blossoming flowers, between winter and summer. The arrival of fragrance and also... hey fever.

No...

Why did they give us this theme? Spring? Should I just draw flowers then? So mundane... what can be associated with spring other than flowers? Ughhh... think my brain, think.

Right now I'm banging my head on my pillow. It has been... three hours since I got home and seven hours since I got selected to join BArt. I know, I know... the competition is due next semester. But I need to prepare now. Soon.

BArt is one of the most prestigious competition for youth under the age of 20. It is one of the most sought after award in the art field. Participants were chosen by a strict committee and each of us have to hand over a number of artwork to them for final evaluation.

What type of art, you might ask? They are several categories. Song writing and music arrangement makes one. Sculpture is another. As for me, I'll be competing in painting. Oil on canvas is my forte.

Or so I think. I don't know. I never compete before. I only paint for fun. I draw what I want, when I want. And... for assignment as well.

Never for a competition. No...

I lay on my stomach, flipping over the document given by Sir Ranit previously. The theme for this year BArt is Spring: May it bloom in you.

What does that supposed to mean? May it bloom in you? Ughhh....

Every participant must embrace the theme given and portray them as best as your interpretation goes.

Can I interpret this using real spring then? I can call my work, Spring: May you bounce with it. Giggles.

I lay on back, staring at the ceiling. I have to make five artworks for this competition. Five different painting. Sir Ranit even told me that I'll be exempted from all art assignment this semester. But I still need to hand over my other assignments though.

Why am I taking art again? I turn toward the portrait, hanging on my right wall. My family portrait. Mom, dad and me.

I miss you, mom. I miss you so much. I know my eyes will start to water every time I think about mom.

She's a lovely lady. She loves me so much. She's the one that teach me how to draw, to paint and to enjoy every moment of it. I still remember sitting on her lap, watching her mixing those colours, smearing the canvas beautifully, creating her masterpiece.

I grow up playing with colours and canvas. Using paint knife as my sword, running around the room, playing pirates with Ming, until mom catch us messing with her tools.

Not once we were reprimanded by her. She would gently remind us not to play in her work room, while putting away the paint knife.

She passed away when I was 12. Since then it has always been me and dad. But dad never let me forget mom. We always travel to all art galleries around the world that carries my mom artworks.

I love how my mom was immortalized in those painting. She is being remembered. From her fans, by her work. From her family, by her love.

I choose to take art during high school as I want keep mom's spirit in me. I just want to see what my mom saw, and learn what she has leant, as I know she used to be taking art major in my school too.

"Yo, what are doing here, son?"

I startled. I don't realize that I'm no longer in my room, but standing inside my mom's old work room.