The true artist - 2d animation story

                The True Artist

I received a school wall painting order, and without hesitation, I gathered a team of skilled artists. Using a "brush," I sketched a concept on paper for client approval. Once finalized, our team began the work, armed with our colours and brushes.

Inside the classrooms and verandas, we diligently applied our talents, completing the task over the course of a week. Meanwhile, parallel to our progress, other artists were working on the outside of the school building. They were perched on a wooden structure crafted from ropes, bamboo, and wooden planks. The outside work was nearing completion, and we were equally dedicated to finishing the interior.

However, a challenge emerged with the logo character I had drawn. Its complexity made it difficult for the other artists to grasp and replicate. Upon completing the interior, I took on the task of drawing the logo. Despite not usually working on risky outside structures, the deadline spurred me to complete this small yet significant part on the 3rd-4th floors of the wooden construction.

As the days passed, rain added to the complexity. The ropes securing the structure loosened, and the harness rope fell short of the 3rd floor. Nevertheless, determined and driven by the love for my craft, I took the risk and started working on the logo using the "brush."

Almost at the brink of completion, a split second altered everything. My foot pressed the plank's edge, causing it to collapse. Brushes and colours soared into the sky, planks plummeted to the second floor, and art materials scattered to the ground. Instinctively, I grasped the end of a bamboo plank, my feet suspended in the air.

In that harrowing moment, I held on, rain trickling down in the backdrop. The urgency on the terrace was palpable as my team rushed to aid me. With every ounce of strength, I clung to that bamboo, my life hanging precariously between the 3rd floor and the ground below.

Miraculously, they managed to reach me in time, using ropes to guide me down to safety. I retreated to the terrace, placing the "brush" in a water jar, and then sought refuge in the classroom. With teamwork, they managed to complete the remaining work, reinstalling the lost structure and meeting the deadline.

In the following week, I found solace in my home, working on a canvas painting. Among the brushes in the jar was the same "brush" that had seen me through that life-threatening ordeal. The memory of that incident, the realization of my dedication to art, and the profound appreciation for life flooded me.

Tears flowed as I recognized the artist I had become, one who cherished art subconsciously, even in moments of crisis. Holding that "brush," I acknowledged the significance it held, not just as a tool, but as a symbol of my journey and resilience.

I wept tears of gratitude and smiled, thanking the divine for a second chance. My commitment to art deepened—I wanted to live for it, to craft a fulfilling life that would uplift and enrich the lives of others. This narrative is a collective experience shared by my artist brother, his friends, and me.