Here’s mine. Sorry if formatting is weird. Wrote it on my phone in the backseat.
The Mural
The girl walks, shoulders slumped, feet dragging, confidence shattered after yet another stinging critique from her art professor. She think he’s the embodiment of the phrase: those who can’t, teach. As far as she knows, he has never given any student in her class a mark above a B. She’s convinced he lost his passion so he’s trying to crush theirs.
If it wasn’t for a stoplight, she would’ve completely missed the bright blue mural with the exact message she needed right in this moment. Art is good for you. It makes her remember the smiles from friends and family when she’s presented them with her art as a gift.
Ever the art student, she takes the sketchbook from her bag, mind already forgetting that she’d been on her way home. She crosses the wrong street, though it’s the right street for her, and makes herself comfortable underneath the word good. And she creates.
*****
The man hasn’t finished writing anything in years, rejection after rejection shattering his creativity long before the young writers of this time were even born. Ideas have abandoned him. He still tries. He sits on his balcony a few times a week, preferring the scritch-scratch of his pencil on paper over the click-clack of computer keys.
Some days an idea will spark but quickly turns to embers. Some days he ends up with doodles and nonsense he can’t decipher even though it came from him. Nothing sticks. But he perseveres anyway in hope one day, something will.
Today is different. When he steps out on to his balcony, bright blue catches his eye. Art is good for you. He’s not sure he can fully agree with the statement, at least with his personal art, but it brings memories of attending gallery openings and operas and street art exhibitions with his late wife. An idea sparks, he gets comfortable, and it blazes.
*****
The child can’t yet read but the pretty colours catch her eye. She’s been dancing down the sidewalk next to her mother, who’s pushing her baby brother in a stroller. She immediately asks her mother what the words say, but the child isn’t sure she understands. Art like pictures? She doesn’t like to paint. It’s messy. She can’t yet write many words, but she can write her name, her mother’s name, and now her brother’s name.
The child loves to dance. Her mother, with sad eyes, has told her they can’t afford dance classes like some of her friends’ parents, but the child doesn’t care. She makes up her own dances to any song that speaks to her. Is that art? Can she decide what is art?
I love this prompt!! And your story! Thanks for this, Evelyn 😍😍
Another installment of Cookie & Drew made an appearance when I sat down to write ❤️ Little longer than five minutes, but I couldn’t help it! 😍😍
Cookie nervously chewed her bottom lip, a habit she’s had since childhood. All the intrusive thoughts swirling around in her mind. The what if game her anxious mind conjured anytime she attempted something new. The newness of this moment just so happened to include a handsome man. Picturing Drew in her minds eye brought a small sigh to her lips and quelled the worried chewing briefly. The thoughts couldn’t be quieted as easily.
What if he doesn’t show up?
What if something happens to him?
What if I got the dates wrong?
What if he changed his mind?
She looked back through her texts with him, finding reassurances in the sweet messages he sent her. He was definitely interested in her. She could scarcely believe her good luck when he asked her to meet for a coffee and walking date. He’d said he wanted to show her his favorite place in the city. She couldn’t say no.
She chose a table by the window so she could watch for him, as soon as he walked by she tapped the glass. He looked up at her and smiled, she swooned and tried not melt into the chair. Who needed coffee when her heart was racing so fast she could feel it through her t-shirt.
She stood to greet him and he wrapped his arms around her, giving her a squeeze. He stepped back and nodded appreciatively at her, she blushed and he blushed. They shared a low chuckle.
“Coffee?” he asked.
“Yes, please” she replied.
They walked together to the counter, placed their orders and waited. After coffees in hand, Drew took Cookie’s free hand and tugged her outside.
“Where are we going?”
“You’ll see.”
They chatted about their days and sipped their coffees. A few blocks later and he tugged her hand again to slow her down.
“Close your eyes please,” he said.
“Mmm, but I’m holding coffee and your hand, how will I walk? she worried.
“I won’t let you stumble,” he promised.
Closing her eyes, she sighed heavily and smiled. Just when she thought she was going to trip, he stopped and told her to open her eyes.
Directly in front of them was a beautiful hand painted mural in a stunning blue - her favorite shade, and the lettering spelling out Art Is Good For You was a perfect shade of yellow outlined in red, making it bold. Art does that for us, emboldens and brings us hope.
She had tears in her eyes when he faced her.
He knew she understood now why this was his favorite place. She grabbed his hand and squeezed it as the tears fell. No one had ever shared with her something so simply beautiful.
The truth is art IS good for you and now they have a shared favorite space.
I LOVE that Cookie and Drew came back! (I mean, no pressure to always write about them. But it's wonderful that they continue to live on in your imagination with each of these prompts!)
Everything about this was so uplifting, but this was my favorite line:
"Art does that for us, emboldens and brings us hope."
May have taken a few min more, but I wrote it as soon as I read/saw the prompt and in one sitting …
Estela has one passion, painting. She is very good at it. Winning all the school contests, then regional ones and recently a state wide one. But Estela’s single mother will never support her dream. Estela buys supplies with her babysitting money. The one time they spoke about her art, Estela’s mom sighed and without turning around to face her says, Art is for those who can afford to indulge. We are not those people she says with finality. What the mother never tells her is that she used to be an artist. She had dreams of selling her drawings one day. But, she got pregnant young from a man she knew could not be trusted to be a good father, a momentary moment of recklessness. She never drew again.
Estela secretly applied to a national contest and just heard she is one of the finalists, but only her art teacher and best friend know and have celebrated with her. Will her mother let her attend to the ceremony where they announce the winner? Days pass and on a car ride home through a road her mom always avoids, they pass a colorful, impossible to miss sign that says art is good for you. Estela’s eyes open wide as her mom pulls over across the street from it. Her mom says, “Your teacher called and told me about the contest.” Estela holds her breath. “ I was hurt you did this behind my back, but I guess I didn’t give you much of a choice. I drew that “ she said pointing to the colorful sign, “ a lifetime ago, and the art council in town keeps it looking fresh.” Estela’s eyes open wide “but that’s a story for another day. Let’s go see what happens at the contest” she finished caressing Estela’s cheek gently.
INES!!! I actually sobbed (a happy sob) at my desk as I read those last lines! This is stunning. Thank you for sending me off onto my weekend with this feel-good gem!
I am new here, been lurking for awhile, happy to be an official subscriber. This was a fun way to start the day. Also, I grew up in La Jolla and my sister is close friends with the Warwicks. Love seeing their store mentioned, brings up a lot of lovely memories.
Here's my take:
Maya was going to throw up. It was going to happen, right here in the driveway. She shoved her phone in her pocket so as to have her hands free, for exactly what she wasn’t sure. Somehow her joy just moments ago on the phone, had catapulted into queasiness as she processed what had just happened. She had received the call. The local arts council had selected her submission for the mural. The very mural project she had applied to six long months ago. She would be lying if she said she had forgotten about it. In fact, she had thought about every day. Some days it was just a passing thought while washing dishes after dinner. Other days a rumination session in the early morning hours lying in bed. She really wanted this. To have a mural of this size in the middle of town. Her town. The place she had grown up and where she fell in love with art. There would be lots of traffic, lots of eyes on her work. Many more eyes than any piece she had done before. And now it was happening. It was going to happen. And cue the incredible self-doubt, pulsing through her body in the form of nauseous waves. She sat down in the driveway, because that was all she could do in that moment. “What have I done?” started to circulate in her mind. She had bills to pay, a house to care for, a theoretical retirement to save for, even though she was only 38 years old. But yes, someday she would need to retire, they say. Whoever they are. And oh yeah, not to mention the whole parenting a wild and free five-year-old who didn’t believe in wearing underpants.
Mrs. Webley was watering her plants next door. “Maya, everything alright, over there?” she inquired gently.
“Yes. I’ve got to get to work,” replied Maya standing up again.
"Okay, dear," Mrs. Webley replied. No longer interested, she wandered over to her peonies.
Yes, I’ve got to get to work. It’s happening. Somehow Mrs. Webley’s voice broke the whirlpool of thoughts she was stuck in. It was indeed time to get to work.
Kathryn, I could NOT stop smiling as I read your piece. The build up and internality is so relatable, and I love the punch ending. Thank you for sharing this with us (and I'm very happy you're here, lurking or not.)
Also, how very coincidental and cool that you're from La Jolla and your sister is close with the Warwicks! It's such an iconic bookstore!
Thank you, Ingrid! And I agree with you 100%. Little sparks of creativity have the potential to grow. All we have to do is start. Happy weekend to you!
"PROCESS IS PRODUCTIVE" declared subway signs, sides of buses, billboards, classroom blackboards, and even government buildings. Once Leadership.Ai was voted in to power, everything got streamlined, more efficient. Menus were governed by growing seasons and crop conditions. Schoolwork was dictated towards society's needs, which led to plummeting unemployment and skyrocketing test scores. Eventually, even romantic pairings were designed through genetic comparisons and maximized trait desirability. For reproductive purposes, of course. And naturally, creativity and art fell away as unnecessary and thus inefficient. It made sense to everyone. Well, there were probably a few 'staving artists' who complained initially, but no one remembered them, and they weren't mentioned in the textbooks. It had been a very smooth transition to a happier, more efficient society.
Then, one day, paint showed up on a wall. Paint that caught the attention of those walking by. Paint that was beyond the control of the efficient Leadership.Ai. Paint that carried a message. And, somehow, without programming, without supervision, without efficiency studies, that message spoke to people. Privately, as privately as one can be in an AiSociety, paint found itself on the walls of bedrooms and bathrooms. Not normal house paint, but paint with messages, with feelings, with life. And then it showed up on living room walls and kitchen cabinets. Then the neat little rows of houses with four walls could no longer contain it, and the paint exploded onto sidewalks, and buildings, and stairsteps, and doghouses.
Despite the paint having no productive purpose, suddenly, somehow, beyond the comprehension of Leadership.Ai, the society began to smile again.
As I drove by the Mural with its stenciled lettering and colors of a beautiful La Jolla sky, it struck me as a profound message to the world that “Art Is Good.” So many education administrators today fail to see the value of Art in a curriculum, yet through history Art has brought the messages to the masses. I had to pull over and park my car as I gazed at the simplicity this artistic mural created. Simple words that inspire one to think. It was, of course, the beautiful blue, yellow gold colors of the paint that drew my attention at first, then the size itself a huge billboard wall, caught my eye as well.
As I took in the beauty of this mural, I noticed in the far corner sitting against this graffiti type painting was life itself in parts of La Jolla. The plight of the homeless population in San Diego, California. As if they were three dimensional figures painted onto this Mural about Art Is Good. Here amongst this summer-colored larger than life message wall were three older human beings lounging in outdoor folding chairs resting themselves. Their belongings strewn about them and the tree in front of where they sat was their closet. It seemed to be that they chose this spot purposefully. Perhaps recalling their past lives, or just appreciating the peaceful feeling the mural offered them. I could not read beyond their sullen faces to recognize peace or disheartened expression of lost hope.
The strangeness of the sight before me even made me wonder more. Their clothing did not seem ragged nor their appearance, was I just imagining the contrast thinking they represented the ugliness of homelessness against the beauty in Art Is Good? Perhaps, they were just street vendors or lived in a nearby apartment and simply enjoyed sitting by this beautiful rendering of Art.
It was time for me to drive on, but this vision that I was fortunate to see along my trip this day, remains within me. Days later, my thoughts still lingering on Art Is Good and the sadness of the homeless throughout America does not want to fade away. Just like knowing the mural stating, “Art Is Good” is a work of beauty, the ugly in the plight of many without homes from all sorts of reasons still eats at my soul. And to think, that this mural that caught my eye as I was driving by provoked such a contrasting message within me, that is strikingly surreal.
The sun, sand, artistic centers, and beauty of La Jolla still cannot hide the sad, pitiful sights around it, regardless of how large and colorful the Mural. Yes, ART IS GOOD, and so are the messages that surround us daily. Every message is meant to encourage action. The action can vary from appreciation to disgust. Yet, one thing is still unmistakeable, art is good for while it enhances inner creative sparks it also reminds us that creativity can send a powerful message to the masses. So, look out for the unnoticed distractions in life, such as a summer-colored painted mural larger than life with the message, Art Is Good, so that you do not miss what it is distracting you from seeing.
Thank you for sharing your piece, Kathy! I really felt immersed in the character's head and seeing the world through their perspective. Glad this photo sparked this bit of creativity for you!
Love the story❤️
Here’s mine. Sorry if formatting is weird. Wrote it on my phone in the backseat.
The Mural
The girl walks, shoulders slumped, feet dragging, confidence shattered after yet another stinging critique from her art professor. She think he’s the embodiment of the phrase: those who can’t, teach. As far as she knows, he has never given any student in her class a mark above a B. She’s convinced he lost his passion so he’s trying to crush theirs.
If it wasn’t for a stoplight, she would’ve completely missed the bright blue mural with the exact message she needed right in this moment. Art is good for you. It makes her remember the smiles from friends and family when she’s presented them with her art as a gift.
Ever the art student, she takes the sketchbook from her bag, mind already forgetting that she’d been on her way home. She crosses the wrong street, though it’s the right street for her, and makes herself comfortable underneath the word good. And she creates.
*****
The man hasn’t finished writing anything in years, rejection after rejection shattering his creativity long before the young writers of this time were even born. Ideas have abandoned him. He still tries. He sits on his balcony a few times a week, preferring the scritch-scratch of his pencil on paper over the click-clack of computer keys.
Some days an idea will spark but quickly turns to embers. Some days he ends up with doodles and nonsense he can’t decipher even though it came from him. Nothing sticks. But he perseveres anyway in hope one day, something will.
Today is different. When he steps out on to his balcony, bright blue catches his eye. Art is good for you. He’s not sure he can fully agree with the statement, at least with his personal art, but it brings memories of attending gallery openings and operas and street art exhibitions with his late wife. An idea sparks, he gets comfortable, and it blazes.
*****
The child can’t yet read but the pretty colours catch her eye. She’s been dancing down the sidewalk next to her mother, who’s pushing her baby brother in a stroller. She immediately asks her mother what the words say, but the child isn’t sure she understands. Art like pictures? She doesn’t like to paint. It’s messy. She can’t yet write many words, but she can write her name, her mother’s name, and now her brother’s name.
The child loves to dance. Her mother, with sad eyes, has told her they can’t afford dance classes like some of her friends’ parents, but the child doesn’t care. She makes up her own dances to any song that speaks to her. Is that art? Can she decide what is art?
Oh my god, Trista, this is beautiful!! It made me tear up. Such gorgeous, poignant vignettes. Thank you so much for sharing your story!
Thank you❤️
Thank you for these Trista!! They left me feeling so hopeful 😍😍😍
❤️ I’m so glad.
I love this prompt!! And your story! Thanks for this, Evelyn 😍😍
Another installment of Cookie & Drew made an appearance when I sat down to write ❤️ Little longer than five minutes, but I couldn’t help it! 😍😍
Cookie nervously chewed her bottom lip, a habit she’s had since childhood. All the intrusive thoughts swirling around in her mind. The what if game her anxious mind conjured anytime she attempted something new. The newness of this moment just so happened to include a handsome man. Picturing Drew in her minds eye brought a small sigh to her lips and quelled the worried chewing briefly. The thoughts couldn’t be quieted as easily.
What if he doesn’t show up?
What if something happens to him?
What if I got the dates wrong?
What if he changed his mind?
She looked back through her texts with him, finding reassurances in the sweet messages he sent her. He was definitely interested in her. She could scarcely believe her good luck when he asked her to meet for a coffee and walking date. He’d said he wanted to show her his favorite place in the city. She couldn’t say no.
She chose a table by the window so she could watch for him, as soon as he walked by she tapped the glass. He looked up at her and smiled, she swooned and tried not melt into the chair. Who needed coffee when her heart was racing so fast she could feel it through her t-shirt.
She stood to greet him and he wrapped his arms around her, giving her a squeeze. He stepped back and nodded appreciatively at her, she blushed and he blushed. They shared a low chuckle.
“Coffee?” he asked.
“Yes, please” she replied.
They walked together to the counter, placed their orders and waited. After coffees in hand, Drew took Cookie’s free hand and tugged her outside.
“Where are we going?”
“You’ll see.”
They chatted about their days and sipped their coffees. A few blocks later and he tugged her hand again to slow her down.
“Close your eyes please,” he said.
“Mmm, but I’m holding coffee and your hand, how will I walk? she worried.
“I won’t let you stumble,” he promised.
Closing her eyes, she sighed heavily and smiled. Just when she thought she was going to trip, he stopped and told her to open her eyes.
Directly in front of them was a beautiful hand painted mural in a stunning blue - her favorite shade, and the lettering spelling out Art Is Good For You was a perfect shade of yellow outlined in red, making it bold. Art does that for us, emboldens and brings us hope.
She had tears in her eyes when he faced her.
He knew she understood now why this was his favorite place. She grabbed his hand and squeezed it as the tears fell. No one had ever shared with her something so simply beautiful.
The truth is art IS good for you and now they have a shared favorite space.
I LOVE that Cookie and Drew came back! (I mean, no pressure to always write about them. But it's wonderful that they continue to live on in your imagination with each of these prompts!)
Everything about this was so uplifting, but this was my favorite line:
"Art does that for us, emboldens and brings us hope."
🥰
May have taken a few min more, but I wrote it as soon as I read/saw the prompt and in one sitting …
Estela has one passion, painting. She is very good at it. Winning all the school contests, then regional ones and recently a state wide one. But Estela’s single mother will never support her dream. Estela buys supplies with her babysitting money. The one time they spoke about her art, Estela’s mom sighed and without turning around to face her says, Art is for those who can afford to indulge. We are not those people she says with finality. What the mother never tells her is that she used to be an artist. She had dreams of selling her drawings one day. But, she got pregnant young from a man she knew could not be trusted to be a good father, a momentary moment of recklessness. She never drew again.
Estela secretly applied to a national contest and just heard she is one of the finalists, but only her art teacher and best friend know and have celebrated with her. Will her mother let her attend to the ceremony where they announce the winner? Days pass and on a car ride home through a road her mom always avoids, they pass a colorful, impossible to miss sign that says art is good for you. Estela’s eyes open wide as her mom pulls over across the street from it. Her mom says, “Your teacher called and told me about the contest.” Estela holds her breath. “ I was hurt you did this behind my back, but I guess I didn’t give you much of a choice. I drew that “ she said pointing to the colorful sign, “ a lifetime ago, and the art council in town keeps it looking fresh.” Estela’s eyes open wide “but that’s a story for another day. Let’s go see what happens at the contest” she finished caressing Estela’s cheek gently.
INES!!! I actually sobbed (a happy sob) at my desk as I read those last lines! This is stunning. Thank you for sending me off onto my weekend with this feel-good gem!
You are too kind, but by now I can see that’s your MO 😊
I feel so seen! I really am trying to make the world a better place, one kindness at a time.
Beautiful, Ines!! So so beautiful ❤️❤️😭😭😭 made me tear up too!!
Mesa, thank you for your kind words. It was my first time posting anything of substance on Substack, so it’s nice to feel encouraged 😊
I hope you keep going!!! I loved it so much!!
I am new here, been lurking for awhile, happy to be an official subscriber. This was a fun way to start the day. Also, I grew up in La Jolla and my sister is close friends with the Warwicks. Love seeing their store mentioned, brings up a lot of lovely memories.
Here's my take:
Maya was going to throw up. It was going to happen, right here in the driveway. She shoved her phone in her pocket so as to have her hands free, for exactly what she wasn’t sure. Somehow her joy just moments ago on the phone, had catapulted into queasiness as she processed what had just happened. She had received the call. The local arts council had selected her submission for the mural. The very mural project she had applied to six long months ago. She would be lying if she said she had forgotten about it. In fact, she had thought about every day. Some days it was just a passing thought while washing dishes after dinner. Other days a rumination session in the early morning hours lying in bed. She really wanted this. To have a mural of this size in the middle of town. Her town. The place she had grown up and where she fell in love with art. There would be lots of traffic, lots of eyes on her work. Many more eyes than any piece she had done before. And now it was happening. It was going to happen. And cue the incredible self-doubt, pulsing through her body in the form of nauseous waves. She sat down in the driveway, because that was all she could do in that moment. “What have I done?” started to circulate in her mind. She had bills to pay, a house to care for, a theoretical retirement to save for, even though she was only 38 years old. But yes, someday she would need to retire, they say. Whoever they are. And oh yeah, not to mention the whole parenting a wild and free five-year-old who didn’t believe in wearing underpants.
Mrs. Webley was watering her plants next door. “Maya, everything alright, over there?” she inquired gently.
“Yes. I’ve got to get to work,” replied Maya standing up again.
"Okay, dear," Mrs. Webley replied. No longer interested, she wandered over to her peonies.
Yes, I’ve got to get to work. It’s happening. Somehow Mrs. Webley’s voice broke the whirlpool of thoughts she was stuck in. It was indeed time to get to work.
Kathryn, I could NOT stop smiling as I read your piece. The build up and internality is so relatable, and I love the punch ending. Thank you for sharing this with us (and I'm very happy you're here, lurking or not.)
Also, how very coincidental and cool that you're from La Jolla and your sister is close with the Warwicks! It's such an iconic bookstore!
Art is good for you! Love the short story. Also, you never know where something small will go. Hope to see Jesse in a bigger story one day 🤞🏽
Thank you, Ingrid! And I agree with you 100%. Little sparks of creativity have the potential to grow. All we have to do is start. Happy weekend to you!
Oh that's such a good idea! I agree with Ingrid. This has the potential for a really good story, Evelyn. Maybe book 14?? 😉
haha maybe so!
"PROCESS IS PRODUCTIVE" declared subway signs, sides of buses, billboards, classroom blackboards, and even government buildings. Once Leadership.Ai was voted in to power, everything got streamlined, more efficient. Menus were governed by growing seasons and crop conditions. Schoolwork was dictated towards society's needs, which led to plummeting unemployment and skyrocketing test scores. Eventually, even romantic pairings were designed through genetic comparisons and maximized trait desirability. For reproductive purposes, of course. And naturally, creativity and art fell away as unnecessary and thus inefficient. It made sense to everyone. Well, there were probably a few 'staving artists' who complained initially, but no one remembered them, and they weren't mentioned in the textbooks. It had been a very smooth transition to a happier, more efficient society.
Then, one day, paint showed up on a wall. Paint that caught the attention of those walking by. Paint that was beyond the control of the efficient Leadership.Ai. Paint that carried a message. And, somehow, without programming, without supervision, without efficiency studies, that message spoke to people. Privately, as privately as one can be in an AiSociety, paint found itself on the walls of bedrooms and bathrooms. Not normal house paint, but paint with messages, with feelings, with life. And then it showed up on living room walls and kitchen cabinets. Then the neat little rows of houses with four walls could no longer contain it, and the paint exploded onto sidewalks, and buildings, and stairsteps, and doghouses.
Despite the paint having no productive purpose, suddenly, somehow, beyond the comprehension of Leadership.Ai, the society began to smile again.
This gave me chills. First, from the "perfect" future society... and then chills again with your spot-on last line. Loved this, David.
Brand new to your Substack and thank you for making it accessible for the visually disabled like me with your lovely voice!
You're so welcome, Sophia! I try to record most of my posts with audio, so I am glad you found that helpful!
Unnoticed By Distraction
As I drove by the Mural with its stenciled lettering and colors of a beautiful La Jolla sky, it struck me as a profound message to the world that “Art Is Good.” So many education administrators today fail to see the value of Art in a curriculum, yet through history Art has brought the messages to the masses. I had to pull over and park my car as I gazed at the simplicity this artistic mural created. Simple words that inspire one to think. It was, of course, the beautiful blue, yellow gold colors of the paint that drew my attention at first, then the size itself a huge billboard wall, caught my eye as well.
As I took in the beauty of this mural, I noticed in the far corner sitting against this graffiti type painting was life itself in parts of La Jolla. The plight of the homeless population in San Diego, California. As if they were three dimensional figures painted onto this Mural about Art Is Good. Here amongst this summer-colored larger than life message wall were three older human beings lounging in outdoor folding chairs resting themselves. Their belongings strewn about them and the tree in front of where they sat was their closet. It seemed to be that they chose this spot purposefully. Perhaps recalling their past lives, or just appreciating the peaceful feeling the mural offered them. I could not read beyond their sullen faces to recognize peace or disheartened expression of lost hope.
The strangeness of the sight before me even made me wonder more. Their clothing did not seem ragged nor their appearance, was I just imagining the contrast thinking they represented the ugliness of homelessness against the beauty in Art Is Good? Perhaps, they were just street vendors or lived in a nearby apartment and simply enjoyed sitting by this beautiful rendering of Art.
It was time for me to drive on, but this vision that I was fortunate to see along my trip this day, remains within me. Days later, my thoughts still lingering on Art Is Good and the sadness of the homeless throughout America does not want to fade away. Just like knowing the mural stating, “Art Is Good” is a work of beauty, the ugly in the plight of many without homes from all sorts of reasons still eats at my soul. And to think, that this mural that caught my eye as I was driving by provoked such a contrasting message within me, that is strikingly surreal.
The sun, sand, artistic centers, and beauty of La Jolla still cannot hide the sad, pitiful sights around it, regardless of how large and colorful the Mural. Yes, ART IS GOOD, and so are the messages that surround us daily. Every message is meant to encourage action. The action can vary from appreciation to disgust. Yet, one thing is still unmistakeable, art is good for while it enhances inner creative sparks it also reminds us that creativity can send a powerful message to the masses. So, look out for the unnoticed distractions in life, such as a summer-colored painted mural larger than life with the message, Art Is Good, so that you do not miss what it is distracting you from seeing.
Thank you for sharing your piece, Kathy! I really felt immersed in the character's head and seeing the world through their perspective. Glad this photo sparked this bit of creativity for you!
I will have to look for the previous Cookie and Drew stories 😊
I love this short story and this mural! Art 🖼️ in all its forms makes me feel good! Thank you for sharing this!
Thank you, E! I loved this mural so much, too. Glad it put a smile on your face this Friday!