Shades of Unity: The Guardian of Maple Whisper
Periodically, Wick Monet hosts Shitty Art Nite’s. It is an event for artists to present works that were once serious in concept but lost their way in execution or in reflection. In our most recent Shitty Art Nite, we were introduced to Eye Horse, short for Eyeball Horse. This is their story:
Make it stand out
The morning sun cast a gentle glow over Maple Whisper, unfurling its light like a painter's brush across the canvas of the neighborhood. Eyeball Horse, with its vivid purple body and the ever-watchful eye, moved through the streets, its presence now a familiar thread in the tapestry of daily life. The whispers that once followed its every step had softened, replaced by nods of recognition and the occasional smile, as if the community had woven Eyeball Horse into its intricate mural of existence.
That day, the air buzzed with a different kind of energy. The annual "Maple Whisper Mural Fest" was about to commence, a celebration of art, unity, and the indomitable spirit of the neighborhood. Artists and onlookers gathered, their voices blending into a symphony of anticipation and excitement. Eyeball Horse watched from a distance, its gaze lingering on the blank walls about to be transformed into stories of color and hope.
As the festival progressed, a young artist named Alyssa caught Eyeball Horse's attention. With her paint-stained overalls and a smile that could rival the sun's warmth, Alyssa worked on her mural, a depiction of Maple Whisper's journey through the seasons, a testament to resilience and renewal. Eyeball Horse felt a kinship with Alyssa, sensing in her a kindred spirit, someone who saw the world not just for what it was, but for what it could be.
The festival was in full swing when an unexpected downpour threatened to wash away the murals' vibrant hues. The crowd scattered, seeking shelter from the sudden deluge. Eyeball Horse, however, remained motionless, its gaze fixed on Alyssa's mural. In a moment of unspoken understanding, Eyeball Horse positioned itself in front of the mural, its large eyelid blinking slowly, shielding the artwork from the rain's relentless assault.
Eyeball Horse's act of protection seemed to pause the very fabric of time. As the rain subsided and the sun peeked through the retreating clouds, the community gathered around, their eyes wide with wonder. Alyssa's mural, guarded by the creature with the all-seeing eye, stood untouched, its colors a testament to the beauty of shared moments and silent acts of courage.
In the heart of Maple Whisper, a new mural was already taking shape, not of paint, but of stories and connections, of an eyeball-headed horse that saw beyond the surface, understanding that every act of kindness, every shared struggle, and every silent victory was a brushstroke in the grand mural of life.
