Writers’ Journal #132 – Fried Potato – 16

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“But George, you know well studies have shown that art inspires people in other areas too.,” smiled the Professor with his mouth full of a swiss cheese cake. “Who knows? You might become the minister of art and culture one day.”

“That would be the day pigs can fly. Anyway, what is the subject for the day?,” retorted George. Everyone realized in the room that he had little interest in things he wasn’t good at. Art of one of them.

“Lets draw a scene. How about the crowd at the night market?” suggested the professor after nearly emptying a beer bottle that Mary had brought up.

“I have never been to one.,” replied George to the professor’s surprise. He couldn’t imagine anyone lived in Bangkok that not familiar with its famous night markets. People from all over the world came to visit those, and the boy right in front of him had never visited one such market? He thought for a while and pulled out his hand phone from his pants right pocket. He looked at the phone for a while before showing the screen to George.

“Here is a picture I took last week. Can you print it out?,” asked the professor to Mary. Mary stood up and took the phone to the room next door and after a while, came back with a large printout of the scene from the phone.

“So the print out looks better than my drawing, probably. Why not we take it as the drawing of the day?” asked George with a cheeky smile. He knew his tutor wouldn’t have it any other way, but he was dreading of having to draw such a complicated picture.

“No, boy. Come on. There is the picture, and there is your drawing board. Let’s have it, shall we?,” insisted the professor dragging the reluctant boy to the usual drawing board in the middle of the room. George didn’t protest and Malee wondered why because to everyone she had seen so far, George would shout at even at a small inconveniences. She reminded herself to ask about the man to Mary later. Malee sat in the small chair by the corner as she watched George tried to draw out the scene under the watchful eyes of the professor. It was slow and clear from the start that George wasn’t cut to be a painter. His hands shake frequently as his head bobbed sideways to view the scene and back to the board.

The whole thing reminded Malee of the first time she was in that room with papers all over the floor. Probably they were thrown on the floor by George after reviewing the paintings done by his own hand. After a long time, George declared that it was done, which meant he had given up continuing since it was a mixture of half-drawn scenery and people. George didn’t even wait for any comments but threw the pencil on the floor and went into his private room. Both Mary and the professor sighed together. Mary stood up and went into the room and soon both of them came back into the room.

“It is nearly done, George. It wasn’t so bad. Why not complete it?,” said the professor.

“No, it is bad. And I don’t see why I need to do this. I will be a businessman like dad and not an artist. And I bet not everyone can draw. I show you. Malee, why don’t you try it?,” replied George, at the same time trying to prove that everyone is as bad as him by involving Malee.

“Me? But I …,”

“Its ok. You sit here and try to draw it on the new sheet of paper.,” interrupted George as he torn of his own drawing paper from the top to reveal a new sheet below.

Malee looked around but realised its useless. She knew from experience that once George had made up his mind, there weren’t anyone in the house that would argue with him otherwise. She stood nodded and went over to the chair and sat down after picking up the pencil that George had thrown on the floor in rage. Malee paid closer attention to looked at the picture Mary had printed closer and realised it was the same night market that she and her friends went to a week ago. She tried to absorb as much of the picture in her mind and then focused her attention back onto the large sheet of white paper in front of her. Once she decided she had seen enough, she lifted her hand holding the pencil and started sketching the outline of the picture she had stored in her mind.

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