Where your Personal Fairytales are Flourished with Words, Lettering, and Art.

Sunday, October 2, 2016

The God of Golden & The Showcard Magician

I wrote this FairyTale as a thank-you letter to the two art/instructors I studied with for a week at A Show of Hands 2016, the 35th annual calligraphy conference held in Asheville, NC. It was an experience like no other, so it was easy to make it a magical fairytale. Thank you, Mark Oatis and Randall Hasson!

The God of Golden & The Showcard Magician

Once Upon A Time, not so long ago, a Brigadoon-esque expanse emerged out of the grey ordinariness, where one could enter, if one dared.
It was in the time of this emerging that a not-so-little-girl stepped out of the greyness and into the kaleidoscopic world of the skillful, colorful God of Golden and the mystical, brush-wielding Showcard Magician.
Surrounding her were imps and fairies, giggling, and flitting about, spreading their enchantments throughout the space. The girl was captivated, mesmerized. She had willingly entered this world, craving the suspense of jumping into the unknown.
The room was a magical labyrinth of supplies from wall to wall, floor to ceiling. Working her way into this haven, she found a spot on which to perch in anticipation of the entrances of The Masters.
The God of Golden burst into the room with a loud shout, his raven hair askew and his eyes wide with almost unbridled power. He wore a crown of brushes and a coat of dripping golden paint. He took command of the very air the stunned girl had been breathing. He began uttering an incantation. With a forward thrust of both arms, every color of the rainbow burst forth from his fingertips. No surface was untouched. Red mingled with blue, yellow mixed with green. Every color imaginable began to form the most charmed backdrop.
Through no will of her own, the girl threw her hands into the air, caught parts of the rainbow, and began to swirl the colors onto the paper before her. Something was taking shape. Something was urging itself out of her body and onto the paper. Her mind took a back seat as she experienced this wonder, this sight of the colors unfolding. When the incantation was spent, the girl finally took a breath. Before her was a work of art, her art. It was something she had never before done. The God of Golden had somehow pulled it out of her with his words.
Before this spell had fully dispersed, the Showcard Magician, quietly, yet with great purpose, seemed to materialize from thin air, clothed in a shimmering red cape. His hair was silver and his blue eyes were otherworldly. Staring straight at this girl, and without saying a word, he took hold of the cape and slowly spread it open to reveal a menagerie of brushes hanging in mid-air.
With a flick of his wrists, and a snap of his fingers, a lone brush flew into his grip. Turning, he faced a snow-white surface. With great control, he raised his brush-laden hand in the air as a maestro. A moment later, as the brush hit the surface, music happened. With flourishes of wild abandon, the magician manipulated the tool effortlessly to form magical letters.  
The letterforms kept time with the music. The student was spellbound. He had her in his mystical grip, and she was helpless to ignore the gravitational pull and what was happening to her.
She was entranced, caught up in the display, in the formation of the strokes. She felt somehow different. She gradually became aware that a layer of electricity was hovering just above her skin. It was vibrating with energy. It was uncontrollable. It was just there.
She had been magically pulled into that Other World, into the unknown. Looking down in front of her, the girl was shocked to see that she, too, had been moving with the music. It was as if she was a puppet, the strings of which were being finessed by the Magician. Brush strokes were gliding atop the rainbow of colors set down beforehand and were forming letters. Seamlessly she was making a work of art full of color and with beautiful letterforms.
Time stood still. No other world existed. She was suspended in an electrified zone of the mind where ideas sparked, took shape, and became real.
The God of Golden and the Showcard Magician had woven their spell around her in an enchanted whirl of extraordinary displays. She wanted to stay in this bewitched world forever.
But in a flash, in a stroke of lightening, the Wizards vanished, and with them, their spectral space.
The girl found herself back in her own familiar surroundings, in her own home. She was blinking, stunned. What just happened? Was it a dream? It couldn’t have been. It felt too real.

As she shook her head and tried to compose herself, she suddenly felt the hum of the faint electricity just above her skin. She looked down beside her and saw a brush. It vibrated. It called to her. She tentatively reached out her hand and picked it up. The instant she held it, the greyness disappeared and she was awash in color. The not-so-little-girl smiled, for she now knew she would forever carry a spark of each of the Virtuosos within her to inspire her and take her back into their whimsical world of magic with just a flick of the wrist.