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Color Doesn't Matter
“The colors don’t matter!” I screamed at Sonja, as we tried to complete our art assessment together. I never liked it when we were put into pairs, especially when it was somebody who you never seemed to agree with.
“Color always matters Bronte, look at the color chart!” Sonja shouted in reply. “Don’t you know that you cannot mix certain colors, you can’t just go on joking around like always.”
I often found Sonja’s approach to tasks like this inappropriate and unreliable, especially when we would always end up screaming at one another in complete frustration.
Our art assessment was due within two weeks and we had very little time to paint our frustrated masterpiece together. It was something neither of us wanted to do, but knew it was compulsory. The thought of coming to art class and knowing that I had to work in a controlled adult-like manner with her irritated me to my very core.
We often worked together in silence, painting side by side, sloshing down our thoughts and feelings in the colors that Sonja had specifically chosen. Our art piece was about expressionism and portrayed how we felt, although I was using Sonja’s chosen colors and I felt as though it was more her artwork than it was my own.
“How dare you paint onto my side of the canvas”, wailed Sonja in a livid tone.
“If it is a joint art assignment, why have you designated us different sides? They should both mingle with one another!” I snarled back at her through my gritted teeth.
She completely ignored what I said, turned around and continued with her art making. In my opinion, I just wanted to ruin the whole thing, take charge and throw her out of the way. I wanted to mix the colors and not give a damn about the clashing colors and the God forsaken color chart.
It was a couple more days until we had to present our canvases to the entire school. I knew that what I was about to do would probably get me into a lot of trouble and I would regret it for the rest of my schooling years. Quite frankly I did not care if I was just about to brutally destroy the work and effort that Sonja had put into our art assignment, but it was worth it.
I went into the art room after school and made sure nobody was there. I took out all of the art equipment I needed, including the paints that I wanted for the art piece. Rather than planning it out, I just put random colors all over my hands and rubbed it all over the entire pre-existing painting. Vibrant blues, yellows, greens, reds and oranges enveloped the canvas. I then topped it off with black and white paint, swirled around on top of the other colors. I then stood back from the artwork and then I knew it was truly finished. I later left the art room and waited for presentation day.
The whole school sat in their seats as I watched them from the stage. Patiently and silently, Sonja and I walked up to our canvas to reveal it to the school. We both took off the black cloth that was hiding our masterpiece. I smiled and proudly directed the crowd’s attention to our canvas. Sonja was well and truly baffled at this stage.
“What have you done?” She looked at me as if she were about to cry.
“What I have done? I have just made a masterpiece, without your help.” I replied to her grinning, making sure the audience did not hear our conversation.
I stepped forward and started my speech on the art piece. I explained to everybody how it represented multiculturalism and how races were free to mix. In art class, we should not need to use a color chart and use corresponding colors with one another. We should unite them and make sure they are seen as one. My message to the audience was: “If we want to make people of different races belong, we start with art, by mixing the colors. Soon, people will understand and get the message. Then we will all feel a sense of belonging.”