10/01/2004 - 11/01/2004
11/01/2004 - 12/01/2004
12/01/2004 - 01/01/2005
01/01/2005 - 02/01/2005
02/01/2005 - 03/01/2005
03/01/2005 - 04/01/2005
04/01/2005 - 05/01/2005
05/01/2005 - 06/01/2005
06/01/2005 - 07/01/2005
07/01/2005 - 08/01/2005
08/01/2005 - 09/01/2005
09/01/2005 - 10/01/2005
10/01/2005 - 11/01/2005
11/01/2005 - 12/01/2005
12/01/2005 - 01/01/2006
01/01/2006 - 02/01/2006
02/01/2006 - 03/01/2006
03/01/2006 - 04/01/2006
04/01/2006 - 05/01/2006
05/01/2006 - 06/01/2006
06/01/2006 - 07/01/2006
07/01/2006 - 08/01/2006
08/01/2006 - 09/01/2006
09/01/2006 - 10/01/2006
10/01/2006 - 11/01/2006
11/01/2006 - 12/01/2006
12/01/2006 - 01/01/2007
01/01/2007 - 02/01/2007
02/01/2007 - 03/01/2007
03/01/2007 - 04/01/2007
04/01/2007 - 05/01/2007
05/01/2007 - 06/01/2007
06/01/2007 - 07/01/2007
07/01/2007 - 08/01/2007
08/01/2007 - 09/01/2007
09/01/2007 - 10/01/2007
10/01/2007 - 11/01/2007
11/01/2007 - 12/01/2007
12/01/2007 - 01/01/2008
01/01/2008 - 02/01/2008
02/01/2008 - 03/01/2008
03/01/2008 - 04/01/2008
04/01/2008 - 05/01/2008
05/01/2008 - 06/01/2008
06/01/2008 - 07/01/2008
07/01/2008 - 08/01/2008
08/01/2008 - 09/01/2008
09/01/2008 - 10/01/2008
10/01/2008 - 11/01/2008
11/01/2008 - 12/01/2008
12/01/2008 - 01/01/2009
01/01/2009 - 02/01/2009
02/01/2009 - 03/01/2009
03/01/2009 - 04/01/2009
04/01/2009 - 05/01/2009
05/01/2009 - 06/01/2009
06/01/2009 - 07/01/2009
07/01/2009 - 08/01/2009
08/01/2009 - 09/01/2009
09/01/2009 - 10/01/2009
10/01/2009 - 11/01/2009
11/01/2009 - 12/01/2009
12/01/2009 - 01/01/2010
01/01/2010 - 02/01/2010
02/01/2010 - 03/01/2010
03/01/2010 - 04/01/2010
01/01/2011 - 02/01/2011
08/01/2011 - 09/01/2011
10/01/2011 - 11/01/2011

Imagine


Imagine an artist. Let's say Van Gogh and his (unappreciated during his lifetime) post-impressionist paintings. Let's say that during his time, somebody rich recognizes his genius and commissions him to paint a ginormous portrait of said rich person's mansion.

So Van Gogh sits down at his easel and one of his old canvases, and wondered if he should do it with pen and ink under-drawing or with just diluted oils. He finally decides on one, and sets the stage for something spectacular.

He brushes, he strokes. He paints over the half-finished smiling face of the foreign lady, Lady Gioconda or something. She looks oddly familiar. Hmmm. He had found the old canvas lying in some dusty old shed during one of his travels.

He hides a signature at the corner of the easel. He puts his style into his painting. He used all the tricks of the trade, and some more of his own. As with all artists, he is unable to produce a painting that is not perfect. He pours so much of his own soul into the painting that in a sense, this painting becomes him.

Hours pass by and his base is done. Then the background. Then the mansion.

Day turns to night and it is time to go home. As he lives a few miles away and travels by foot, he cannot carry the oil painting with him. No matter, I'll come back and fill in the features of the house tomorrow, he thinks as he gingerly puts the half finished painting in a spare room of the mansion.

***************************************************************

Dawn breaks and he happily skips (yes, skips) to finish his work on the painting. When he reaches the mansion, the door was open. I'll just pop in and get my easel, he thinks.

A gasp of horror reaches his remaining ear. He realizes that it's his own. He stares, horrified at his painting. Somebody had... had... changed the painting! Instead of his turquoise sky in the background, somebody had painted an ugly mucus-green over it! Instead of the original 3 storey mansion, somebody had added another wobbly looking floor in a distinctively amateurish style that was absolutely unlike any of Van Gogh's!

"I added in something of my own. It'd be much more impressive if the building looked foreboding, don't you think?"

The owner of the mansion proudly appeared in the corridor, as if proud of his accomplishments in ruining the painting.

Impressive? The roof looks like it's caving in! The sky literally looks like shit! The entire painting is ruined! All his hard work, all his heart and soul that went into the painting, ruined! His style was disrespected. His dignity was disrespected. His painting was disrespected. He was disrespected.

He stands there for a moment, opening and closing his mouth repeatedly, not knowing what to say or do. Then he starts seeing red. It was as if the world was suddenly covered in red. Boiling blood pounds in his temples.

With superhuman strength, Vincent Van Gogh lifts the ginormous canvas painting off the easel in rage, tears the entire thing apart, and throws the shreds at the man who disrespected him.

Then he stomps out of the building, never to be seen at the mansion again.

***************************************************************

I wish I could tear down the paintings too.

How would you feel if someone disrespects your work?

10:22 AM ·