Finding Creativity

The snow drifted past the window as she watched from the warmth inside. Softly falling upon the windowsill, the snow made the outside world look fresh and new. She sipped her cup of tea, holding the saucer with one hand as she gazed through the window. She had left a much warmer environment to come to a place that offered more beauty, so she could think and get new ideas for her paintings. Her creativity had seemed to run dry, making it difficult to produce anything worthwhile. She had chosen to move to an entirely different area, hoping to gain insight into new ideas. So far, all it had done was bring cold that chilled her to the bone, making it nearly impossible to venture outside without the threat of getting frostbite in your extremities.

The canvas stood propped on the easel facing the window, the paint palette and brushes poised on the stand next to it, waiting to be used. White is such a hard color to work into anything fascinating or enticing. The shadows had to be just right, leaving little room for mistakes, as the brush strokes told the story without words. Her gaze slowly slipped to the canvas as she pulled her shawl closer around her. She was uncertain how to proceed with the painting, the snow not giving her any ideas. She thought about what the snow would bring: ice skating, children making snowmen and villages, snowball fights, but also dangerous driving and walking. It was beautiful yet so very dangerous.

Of course, it would bring magic to the holidays that seemed to be lacking before in Santa Cruz. Sunshine and sand weren’t really a way to celebrate Christmas. The lights and ornaments were so much prettier when they sat against a backdrop of snow rather than sand and surf. Santa Cruz had offered up all it could to help her imagination produce breathtaking scenery; it was time for something new.

She thought about donning her coat, gloves, hat, and warm leggings to go to the skating rink, yet knew it would only lead to her yearning to be in a warmer climate. She had decided to leave the United States and go to Vienna, Austria, for her inspiration. Vienna was beautiful in winter as well as the other seasons, so she hoped it would help her find what she needed to continue her work. She was a nature painter, no portraits or surreal paintings, just pure nature. Falling leaves, rain from the stormy weather, trees as they bowed in the wind, and ponds that lay still and quiet along their shores. These were the things she loved painting and bringing to life on her canvas. Boring sand had lost its luster, and she needed something new.

She hadn’t been prepared for the sharp biting cold of winter and had become a homebody since it had started snowing. Her canvas stood blank with no more inspiration than she had when she was in California. She looked back at the window, then moved to grab her coat, thinking maybe by actually experiencing the white frozen particles falling to the ground firsthand, it might help her to become inspired. Her fur-lined hat was next, then her gloves after she pulled on her boots. She grabbed her phone, putting it and her wallet in her pocket, then she stepped through the door.

The snow greeted her as it fell onto her eyelashes and face. It was cold and wet as it melted, yet she felt accepting of the new experience. She headed for the skating rink not far away with a slow, deliberate walk. She was in no hurry as she investigated her surroundings, her eyes moving from one area to the next, absorbing the visage of the powdery substance that was beginning to cover the ground and buildings. Beautiful domed cathedrals dotted the skyline with massive spires shooting to the sky to greet the heavy clouds. Huge mansions littered the city with massive driveways that seemed to run for miles before stopping at the large double doors of the building. She snapped pictures of the edifices, getting every detail of them with the snow fluttering in front of them.

She stopped at the park, sitting on a bench by the skating rink. She watched as the skaters circled on the ice in what looked like an amazing ice dance. Young and old were enjoying the rink and the snow as it fell without a care in the world. Life seemed simpler here than in California. She took several more pictures, yet still didn’t seem to be getting inspired. She sat for a bit, admiring the skaters and the snow as it drifted to the ground to cover the glass like ice. The skaters didn’t seem to mind as the snow covered the pond, continuing to dance across the ice. Children giggled and threw snowballs at each other as they tried to race across the pond to catch each other. Adults got into the game as well, letting the children get away since their skills were much better.

Someone had started building a snow fort at the far end of the ice away from the mass of skaters at the center. Several people joined in to roll large snowballs to press them together to make a wall. Then another wall across from the first began being built as the children threw snowballs at each other to be distracting, hoping to stop the first group from finishing. After a few minutes, the walls were done, and two groups began rolling smaller snowballs to throw at each other. The laughter rang across the ice rink, bringing others to join the fun. Soon, the entire rink had picked sides and were throwing snowballs at each other.

A smile slid across her face as she watched, embedding the image in her mind. Her creativity began to expand on the scene, bringing forth a larger, more elaborate picture that she could put on the canvas. A larger canvas and easel would be necessary to complete her painting, but there were so many places in Vienna to get art supplies that she wasn’t worried. She stood, pausing a moment before moving away from the ice rink. She went directly to a shop she had found that stocked all her favorite paints, brushes, and many different-sized canvases. She picked out what she wanted, asking if they could deliver because of the size, then she headed home.

She rearranged the area where she needed to put her canvas as she waited for her items to arrive. An hour later, her items arrived, so she tipped the delivery person graciously and then set to work setting up the new easel, canvas, paint, and brushes. The snow continued to fall outside as she worked on her painting, glancing at the window ever so often. She didn’t want to forget the image that had entered her mind at the skating rink, so she watched the snow to help her remember.

The rink covered nearly all her canvas as she painted it and worked it into the shape she wanted. It wasn’t a replica; the rink and what took place there were only experiences that had given her vision. The people were different too, the colors ever changing as they flashed across the canvas in front of her. She kept the snow forts expanding them a bit with more people working on them, making them look like castle towers, all the while snow drifting down on the scene. She worked until the wee hours of the morning, blending, shaping, coloring until it all flowed together like the image in her head. The ice rink was a blue-hued, smooth surface that looked like a massive piece of glass as the people moved across it. Several of the skaters took brooms and shovels to clear the ice as the others worked on the large snow forts or made snowballs to fuel the battle in the background. Cheer was present amongst the gayly dressed people as they worked on the snow forts. The lights adorning the cathedral behind the rink blinked brightly, green, blue, red, and white, barely visible through the falling snow.

She painted the dome of the cathedral, covering it with colorful lights. The lights ran down the rafters of the dome to meet the top of the cathedral wall and run across it. The huge double doors had snowflake decorations hanging upon them with blinking lights running down either side, accenting stained glass windows in the wall. Expansive spires rose from the door frame to shoot into the sky, glistening with the snow as it sifted down. It settled on the top of the door frame, the ground, and the dome, giving the whole scene one of purity and beauty.

She stepped back to admire her painting at 4:00 a.m. It had taken her all night, but she had finished her vision and put it on the canvas. Eyes heavy, she set her palette down, cleaned her brushes, then, after taking one last look at her masterpiece, went off to bed. Tomorrow would be a busy day.

She got a few hours of sleep, then rose to an ever-snowy morning. She looked out the window at the heavily falling snow, sipping her tea. She thought about waiting, but knew the longer she waited, the more likely it would be to not sell her creation. She finished her tea and muffin, took a picture of the painting, then donned her gear to brave the cold. The wind had started blowing throughout the night, forcing the snow into large piles, making it difficult to traverse the walkways. She thought about taking the carriage system but figured it would be a difficult time as well. She pulled her coat closer as she thrust her hands into her pockets and pulled her head into the collar of the coat. The wind cut at her clothing like a knife, threatening to pull it all away to leave her vulnerable to its icy grasp. Unlike yesterday, she rushed to her destination to avoid the harsh wind.

The bell rang loudly as she stepped through the door, announcing her presence. She shook off the snow at the door before entering the shop, waiting a minute or two before moving forward. She entered the shop, admiring several paintings as she moved through it. She wondered if hers would draw any attention, such as these did. Moving to the back of the shop, she found the man she needed to talk to and waited for him to finish with another customer. She presented the photo, trying to gauge his reaction. He took her phone, examining the painting from all angles, then looked up at her with a wide smile on his face. He shook his head yes vigorously, then they went to a private room to discuss details of the purchase. She knew this man, although she had never had the opportunity to do business with him. He was said to be a shrewd but fair businessman. She hoped he would live up to his reputation. It didn’t take long for them to conclude their business, the consignment price being set higher than she anticipated, but it gave room for negotiation. She hurried home and prepared the painting for delivery. Now it was a waiting game. She hoped it wouldn’t take too long for the painting to sell; she could definitely use the funds. She went back to the shop with the painting, which the truck had been sent to pick up, to ensure it was set up according to what they had agreed. Once she was done, she returned home and began working on another painting. This is the way it should be, painting with no inhibitions. Nothing to hamper her or draw her astray. Nothing to make her doubt this is what she wanted to do. This is what she was meant to do, and now, since her creativity had returned, she saw a bright future.