Personal Narrative: I M Not Rembrandt

I'm on a train that's all I know. A train moving fast. Faster than I can imagine, faster than i've ever felt. I can't get off this train i'm stuck, i'm stuck and there's thousands of paintings looking at me.Their mostly self portraits, their Rembrandts staring at me yelling at me. I can't I just can't i'm not a artist. I'm not Rembrandt. I can't understand art like him like any true artist. i'm a fraud I have nothing.

I need to know what's going on, I need to, I have to. I venture forth.Theirs thousands of paintings, their stuck their covering every surface lining every seat there's no space. I'm touching everything and everything is touching me grabbing and pulling me everything is looking at me I have to get out I have to run.

I'm scared i can't go back …show more content…
why did I think I could ever do this?

It's over my head.

I keep going it's the only thing you can do. But I can't walk, so I climb I climb the self portraits, I climb the landscapes, I climb the paintings, I climb the etchings, I climb.

I'm not at the top. at some point Rembrandt slowed down and others emerged. frida kahlo, Gogh, Monet, Matisse, Rockwell. I am climbing on all of their backs on all their works.

I can't go back. By the time I realized this it's too late. By the time I realize this I live here.
At this point I'm eating wayne thiebaud for breakfast. thoroughly enjoying the smooth textures of the cakes, the calming color palettes, the i confidence in every choice. I eat wayne thiebaud for breakfast.

For lunch I have Goya. She's got a different flavor. I now realize they all do. She's surreal hard to touch but intoxicating nonetheless.

For dinner it's Vermeer. The one I understand lest but I joy the most. I have no idea how technically Vermeer does it. The clear brush strokes the immaculate use of lighting and color but most of all the placement. But just like everything I will climb that