It was a late September evening in New York City, and Avery Black was still up, working. The lights outside were bright outside his window. Apparently this city never slept, but neither would Avery until he was completely satisfied. He couldn't get the words of the curator out of his mind, and he loathed the feeling that it was giving him.
“You'll never make it in this town! You're a failure as an artist, and you will never amount to anything!”
The words kept ringing through Avery's head as he gently laid down the strokes for his latest painting. Deep in thought, he refused to let that miserable little fox make him feel down. The short lion meticulously painted on his canvas, paying attention to every minute detail and making sure that he did everything perfectly. Avery wanted every last thing to be perfect; for each stroke to be in the perfect place; for the proportions to be just right, and, most importantly, for it to look simply amazing.
An artist's smock covered his torso, and his lower extremities were hidden behind a pair of light blue skinny jeans. The lion was often called a “hipster” by those who didn't know him. He did dress the part, but that was about it- he didn't have that smug attitude of thinking he was better than everyone. Avery didn't care though- people could think whatever the hell they wanted. Except that he wasn't a good artist. That was the one thing he was absolutely sure of, and he was out here in New York City to make sure everyone knew it.
“Hm...” Avery muttered, eying his work carefully, trying to see where it might need improvement. “Got it.” And again, he started painting. As he painted, he became more and more satisfied, his sense of joy and determination increasing. His tail flicked back and forth with anticipation on its own, and his hand moved steadily across his canvas.
“Maybe I should add a little more detail here.” And he did, adding more and more to his painting, making sure that he was completely happy with it.
“Almost finished.” He said to himself, getting more and more excited at the completion of his latest masterpiece. “I'm almost there.” Finishing his painting with one final brush, Avery finally completed his most recent piece of art.
“I love it.” Avery said. “It's absolutely stunning.” At least he thought so. Hopefully the museums would agree. Smiling, he went over to the couch in his small studio apartment. Avery laid down, his mind racing with different thoughts on how his presentation tomorrow would go. Hopefully, they would love it, put his art all over the museum, and he would be famous. Avery didn't care about the money, he just cared about making art that people liked and that he could be recognize for. Slowly, ever so slowly, he drifted off to sleep with dreams in his head that he would be a big shot.
