Arthur the artist

Arthur was an artist. Arthur loved painting pictures. He could sense the colors on the pallette by sheer experience. He never needed vials to measure out precise quantities of any colors to come up with the perfect vermillion red or ochre yellow. It was in his blood. And ever so frequently would he come across those one or two instances when the measurement would fail. But his piece of art wouldn't go bad because of this mis-measurement. It would acquire a new hue. A new enigma. A new vibrance about it. And the crowds loved it.

Then Arthur landed into the New World. People here were machines. They weren't artists. They were more of chemists. They knew not what worth a bright maroon carried; they simply knew how to concoct it. They knew how to fill in the borders, they knew not how to sketch the borders. But the sketches and the colors were given to them by the Great Lord of the New World in a blueprint manual. They merely followed their instructions.

And lets give it to them. They were good at executing the pieces of art flawlessly. They came up with wonderful compositions. But the compositions didn't have a soul. Their soul was what had been defined by the Great Lord of the New World. But they were duly rewarded for following the blueprints. This was a world where art was merely a mechanical device meant to be done for the sake of doing. No one knew to what end their pictures were.

Arthur tried his skills to beat these People. He tried compositions that would have awed his older world. People there would have loved him for his experiments with colors, and his sheer disbelief in modernist art. But people here thought differently. They knew he was a different blood. But they knew him as one with little respect for order. They thought Arthur was not one amongst them.

Arthur still lives in the New World. He still loves his art. And he still continues to do without vials to measure out precise quantities of ochre and indigo. His art is respected in a select community of other Old-World dwellers. And he simply laughs at The People of The New World who follow the Blueprints of the Great Lord. For he knows, that in the end, its The Skill he carries, his legacy from the Old World... which will win him the pie.