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His entire life, he could just not understand what was so alluring about it. 28 years of his life he devoted to the arts. Always creating something that others would congratulate him on, that he could never understand.
This is gorgeous Sebek!
You take after your mother so well!
Are you sure you're not willing to sell?
Sebek just couldn't feel anything when he painted, what was this big thing everyone always said? Why couldn't he see it? It felt like something was truly missing from the fiber of his being.
He could look at any art piece that he was shown and never see or feel anything within himself, he heard people gushing on how exquisite the strokes were, how they evoked such emotion. All Sebek could ever see was just a scene, or just a portrait. There was nothing special about some hills and swirly clouds. Sure the colors may be duller than they would be in real life, but there was no feeling being conveyed to him.
One time his mother showed him a portrait of his father that she'd painted. It was an exact replica of his face, from every misplaced hair, down to the smile wrinkles around his eyes. Sebek had congratulated her on how realistic she painted but she seemed slightly disappointed in his response. His mother then asked his sister what she thought of it and she couldn't stop gushing about how their mother had captured every bit of love their father had for their family, especially how emotional he seemed to appear as his mother's subject.
What was sebek not seeing? This integral part of every human that he just seemed to be missing? Why did he feel so broken by missing this piece of himself?
He only threw himself into painting even more, furious splashes of paint smeared across the canvas, dripping to the floor. He despised it. Even with all the fury he felt, he just couldn't feel anything in his 'art'.
What in the world was wrong with him?
-~-
Sebek saw someone staring at one of his works for longer than most people would, he had finally caved and allowed some of his works to be shown at a local gallery,
"Find that piece interesting?" Sebek asked softly, as not to startle the person. When the stranger turned around Sebek noticed his captivating eyes, a blue border lining a lilac purple, but what was most striking is that they seemed just as troubled. Just as lost as Sebek felt.
"No quite honestly," Sebek was taken slightly aback by the bluntness of the comment, "There's nothing really there, in any of your works really. Though, I could say that for everything in this gallery, I really don't know why my father makes me go to these things, he knows I don't see anything special about art." the stranger caught himself, "Ah, excuse me, I did not mean to ramble like that. Hello, my name is Silver."
Sebek was kind of at a loss for words, how could someone just be so blunt with their words!? He felt some need to defend his works, despite the disconnect of emotion he has towards it.
"Sebek, Zigvolt. As you can see on the plaque," he responded rather curtly, Silver didn't seem to notice however, "Of course there's things there, this particular one is of a landscape near my home. As you can see there are plenty of things here! Trees, hills, flowers, even a figure walking!" Silver thought for a moment, considering Sebek's words,
"Yes, I can see that, I'm sorry, what I meant by 'there's nothing there' was that there was no emotion I could discern. It felt hollow. Though, I could say that for every work in this gallery..." a pause, "I realized a while ago that art just wasn't for me, nothing I saw made me want it nor feel like I should create it."
"Then why are you here?"
"Because my father always wishes me to see the new galleries here, he hopes that maybe one day I'll find something that 'speaks to me' so to say."
"Well if you already know that art isn't for you, there's no point in being here." Sebek thought,
"I suppose you're right, though I do enjoy humoring the old man."
-~-
Sebek saw Silver multiple times at the gallery after that, he didn't seem to be looking at anything and seemed rather content to just wander and watch the people instead. Silver didn't seem like he felt like something was wrong with him, but Sebek knew what he had seen in his eyes.
"You keep coming here and all we ever say are simple hellos. Would you like to grab lunch sometime? You said something the last time we talked that intrigued me." Silver was a little surprised but agreed to meet at the end of the week. They met at a small cafe that also happened to be a bakery, Clover's Treats the sign said as he walked in, Silver had yet to come. He was sat down near a window and while he waited, he pondered about what Silver had said for the umpteenth time.
"...I realized a while ago that art just wasn't for me, nothing I saw made me want it nor feel like I should create it."
Sebek had always thought that being an artist was what he was meant to be, everyone in his family dabbled in some kind of art, he thought it was who he was. Could there really be the possibility that he should be something someone else? But who else could he be, everyone he knew enjoyed some art, who could he find that would be like him, why was there still this broken feeling?
Sebek felt light tapping on his shoulder. He looked up to see Silver looking at him concern palpable in his eyes,
"Sebek, are you alright? You didn't respond when the waiter came, so I ordered for you. Some sandwich off the specials."
"Ah- Yes, I'm fine. Just thinking about what you'd said."
"The thing about my father wanting me to go?" Silver saw Sebek shake his head and motion previously, "Ah, the part of knowing I don't enjoy art."
"Yeah, how did you realize that?" Sebek asked, Silver thought for a moment before replying,
"I guess I've always known, anytime my father would show me a piece he bought somewhere, I never cared for it. I let him decorate my room with the paintings he bought, but I only kept them because they made the old man happy." Silver paused to let their server deliver the food before continuing, "I wonder though, why are you so curious about this?"
"I- I am just finding that maybe I don't want to be sharing galleries, nothing in them makes me happy, despite what everyone says about them. It makes me frustrated that I myself can't see what they do." Sebek stared out the window, clouds were starting to form, covering up the sun on an otherwise pretty day.
"Whatever you decide to do, make the choice that ensures your own happiness." Silver said with some finality to it, and before Sebek realized, he had payed for both their meals. Sebek tried to protest since he was the one who invited Silver, but he simply smiled, told him to have a good afternoon and hoped that they would see each other again.
-~-
Sebek spent a couple weeks deliberating, carefully considering Silver's words before he finally decided to donate his art supplies to an art school. Sebek had decided that art was not for him, and surprisingly he was happier than ever, he felt freed from that broken feeling of not belonging, of not having something that everyone else seemed to have.
His mother came by in the afternoon to help him donate the last of his supplies when she asked the question he'd been dreading,
"Why the change of heart?" she didn't sound angry or sad, simply curious. Sebek started out carefully,
"Someone I met helped me realize that maybe I don't need to try to paint all the time, that I should do something that I can truly put myself into." he waited for the rebuttal that never came, heart pounding, he looked over to her. She was struggling to hold her laughter of all things! "MOM!? WHAT ARE YOU LAUGHING FOR!?"
"Sweetie, I'm sorry," she said, still holding back, "It's just I always thought his would happen! You never seemed to passionate about what we as a family did, you always just drew or painted what your siblings did. We only encouraged you because this is what you said you wanted."
"AND YOU LET THIS GO ON FOR OVER 20 YEARS!?" he shouted indignant,
"Lower your voice sweetie, I'm sure the stars could hear you, and also, would you have listened if we told you to stop?"
"No..." he replied begrudgingly,
"See? It was best that you find this for yourself." Sebek couldn't help but agree.
As she was leaving that evening, she told him one last thing that stuck,
"Darling Sebek, I love you and I want you to know there's many types of art. Just simply living is an art, you don't have to create something in the conventional sense for it to be considered art. Art is only a word for the expression of yourself, and only you get to decide what that is. Never mold yourself to what others will say is art. Your new friend was wise to tell you to find something new. Some people never find their art, isn't that sad?"
She kissed Sebek on the cheek as she left him to think deeply about her words.