Free to read fictional supernatural Art Story 

Free to read fictional supernatural Art Story Free to read fictional supernatural Art Story 

Free to read fictional supernatural Art Story written by Denis Taylor Editor of painters TUBES®

Part One

You know the the drill; Monday to Friday go to work to be able to have a bed, fill the stomach and then get on with some proper stuff on those free days.  For me that meant spending Friday evening to Sunday evening in a run down building in the centre of Manchester. I pay an affordable thirty pounds per week for what I call it my art studio, I can paint whatever I like. Paintings that will never be seen by anyone. Artworks that means more to me than simply food on the table.

It was finally Friday, I’d dragged myself home from work, took off my uniform, fed my face then took a very hot shower to remove the weeks invisible layer of capitalism from my body. I dressed for the weather and went off to the studio with new supplies of oil and brushes. Making sure I had a six-pack from the local corner shop on the way. I was anxious, yet impatient to get to the studio to see again what I’d done the previous weekend.

I’d accepted the cold and the damp of the place with a stoic resistance during these dark winter months. The thermal imitation-fire provided me with sustainable heat to work and the lighting was quite adequate.  I painted with my mind not my eyes, I told myself. The single strip light hanging by chains from the ceiling had proven its trustworthiness. It was a state of artistic revelation I was after, not to witness what happens on the canvas at the point of doing it. Seeing was something I did after painting, not before and certainly not during.

paintings by Denis Taylor
Triptych painting from the Second Chance series- 3125mm x 1015mm- 2005 to 2020

I was hooked on that feeling of freedom I had to be as self-interested as I wanted to be whilst I painted. To be without a worry about being paid at all for my hard work, as I did in my day job.  It wasn’t making money for me or someone else. It was the ecstasy of the creative act, which help make my other life more tolerable.  Painting was my drug of choice. That particular Friday evening, I began with my usual routine. I put the electric fire on, cleaned my brushes and cracked open a can of lager. Put all the paintings on the floor, walk around them in turn, examining them one by one.

Second viewing my paintings was always exciting, until I spotted an area that I wasn’t happy with. And as usual, I lined all the painting up on the wall to critic them more intently. The end resolution was always the same. ‘The need to repaint them all over again’.  I’d barely laid a stroke on the canvas when a voice from behind me spoke.

Mark Rothko

He pulled out an A4 piece of paper from his inside pocket and confirmed he had the right name and address. “Listen mate, if you’re from the tax man, I don’t sell anything and I can prove it.”  I said in a mild panic. “Relax, I’m interested in your outcome my boy, not your income.” Before I could react he asked me a question.  “Does starting over you make you think you can do better than what you have already done?”  “Yes, I do. Besides that’s my choice, why ask?” I said indignantly. He pulled on his cigarette and blew out a cloud of blue smoke. He walked up to the paintings that were still propped up on the wall and knelt in front of them.  As he looked at them he made small upturns of his nose, which gave the illusion of the cigarette following the brush strokes on the canvas. 

“So, do you paint your inner self in these?” He asked.

part two of fictional Art Story publishing 15th October

painters TUBES gallery