Three days have passed by, many sleepless nights Janie endured to get as close to finishing her work to submit, and many counts of both Moranda and Janie getting lost in their reverie thoughts. She had, of course, chosen her reference photo, mimicking the movements in the picture, trying to envision herself back in Halcyon Village once again, trying to feel the zephyr blowing against her friends' hair and summer dresses. Although it was still in its primary stages, it was eventually coming together in unison. Problem now was the color palette she had to recreate from her reference.
She had chosen to stick to her usual form of art media, which was paper and pencil, so it was of course a bit easier for her to work. There was a lot of eraser dust and surrendering from Janie getting agitated from her drawing, but Moranda was there to help ease her emotions and gave her advice on parts that needed to be adjusted. Her personal art teacher was very delineated, pointing out features and objects she had overlooked in her reference compared to her sketch. And conversely, after much altering, she had got to the final stages of her artwork. It was mediocre artwork in Janie’s eyes, but she was still proud with the advancements she did to get up to this point. She is forever grateful to Moranda, her teacher, her friend, someone she could confide in, for helping her get back her dreams she had given up on, evidently making her follow a path of dithering and considering herself a dilettante. Reflecting now, Janie really loathed her past self, hating her past self for giving up so easily, for being so persuaded, for being so adamant that she was untalented, the tantamount of a depressed person believing that their worthless.
As she picked out the colors, Moranda was being inquisitive, snooping around her house in hopes of seeing something she never did, but to her loss, everything was still the same. She retreated back to Janie’s room, plopping herself on her bed, still with the flowers that reminded her of her little sister.
Moranda did tell Janie that practicing and sketching for at least an hour a day was conducive for her improving, and just like she always did, she eagerly agreed, reminding Moranda the same way her little sister agreed to her, until she eventually stopped seeking for her. After she died, she didn’t know what became of her little sister, hopefully she’s alive somewhere.
Janie’s hand was starting to become indolent, getting tired and fatigued. Moranda suggested Janie rest for a while before going back to coloring. Judging from her visage, she was tired from the lack of sleep, and rightfully so, she knocked out soundly on her chair, getting the ignored sleep her body needed. Moranda warned her many times that she’ll start to wear out, from being debilitated; emaciated and lacking sleep, and verily, she did. Seeing her being petulant with her own artwork was such a sight, but also a toll on her determination and persistence. Moranda thanked the gods that she finally rested herself for once after these three days.
On her own volition, she glided towards Janie’s artwork progress. It was coming together, she candidly meant it, she infatuated over her color process as it was very unique against her own, having a variety of colors to form a deception that it was one. One thing she was proud about Janie accomplishing was making her objects, scenery, and people discernible. She had this problem before, drawing something but then forgetting what it was that she drew, to the point where she restarted all over. She knew she had a tenacity over her own drawings, but she had a hard time making it practical. Over the four months, Moranda taught her everything, outside and inside the books of arts, perfecting everything down to the bone, having a cognitive understanding for everything and the reasons for it, and making sure her drawings have correct compositions. She went from being a novice to experienced.
This was her prominent characteristic. Being diligent and never wavering.
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Without examining the artwork harshly and intentionally, she liked the calmness of the drawing, the showcasing of amity between her two friends, showing a flow of movement carrying the viewer along with it, and the overall serenity vibe. It was beautiful, and it had a hint of fervent emotion. The affinity Moranda felt from the drawing felt just as real when she was there, so full of emotion and feeling.
She hoped that Janie’s drawing would pass the submission process and get omitted into the competition along with the other competitors. Other competitors will be skilled enough to be considered transcendent in correlation to famous; renowned artist, Moranda knew that, and what's made her more excited, she wanted to see Janie push her limits, get competitive, and possibly learn from other artists instead of just her.
Janie woke up from her slumber, returning back to work after momentarily catching herself to come to consciousness.
A full week has passed with consecutive work and negligence on her health. But through thick and thin, Janie submitted her finished work, adrenaline rushing through her veins at the realization that she submitted her very own artwork. She couldn’t constrain her felicity, jumping around in her room, running around Moranda as she followed her gaze fixated on Janie’s optimistic visage. Moranda didn’t want to ruin her riant vibe, so she sat down in her chair and gave her full undivided attention to her little apprentice being loquacious. It was an auspicious day, and thus, must be treated like one. When her father heard the news that she’s participating in an art competition, her father’s emotion was ineffable where he could only look at her with an incredulous face. A part of him felt fulfilled, it's been a while since her daughter had any motivation or confidence in herself to be happy, even pursuing something or her passion.
He was just happy that her daughter was partaking in a field she was interested in. He was mostly happy that his worries of her being depressed were evaded from his mind, calming him down, with a sense of reassurance for her future.
Moranda, standing secluded from Janie and her father, felt a heavy load of melancholy flow over her. Everytime she looks at Janie, she sees herself in her. She didn’t want to admit it, but she and her were very similar. Simultaneously, whenever she saw Janie work vigorously, she saw herself. She saw her young self watching her teacher from afar, left alone with her avid dreams. And now, seeing Janie submit her first artwork reminds her of when she herself submitted her very own painting. Of course she was elated, but everything seemed too surreal. Everything seemed to correlate way too perfectly. Maybe it was because Janie evidently adapted to her habitual ways, who knows.
A tantalizing feeling was felt delving inside her. She wanted to impel it, ignore it, but it was felt lingering inside her.
Janie was too raucous to notice the apprehensive attitude exuding from Moranda, who swiftly disappeared upstairs.
Everyone went on with their day. Janie and Moranda waited patiently for any email from the art museum. But the very thing that they were waiting for was the disincentive to Janie’s confidence. She was prepared to not get any emails from them, but she didn’t think she would feel the incipience of despair. And so, Janie went a week away from checking her email, all her hope in shambles, and Moranda trying to bring sanguine to the perturbed Janie who continued drawing her days away.
Subsequently, Moranda succeedingly convinced the adamant mind of Janie’s to check her email, and to their surprise, they received an email from the same art museum. To surmise what the email stated, Janie’s artwork was accepted into the art competition, and is currently in the rankings, being reviewed by the judges and rated.
With profound elation, Janie got up from her seat and jumped around in her room with Moranda, who too, was jumping with her. Now all they had to do was wait until the rankings were done, and hopefully, or presumably, they are invited to the museum to see the other artworks being displayed.