His ragged clothing was covered with splotches of paint - Burnt Sienna, Cerulean Blue, and Ochre to be specific. The Mediterranean sun was beating down on his back, as he wiped off beads of sweat from his forehead. He stared at his work. The canvas was a mess, and there was nothing meaningful on it. Even the most lenient art critics wouldn't call it modern art. He threw the canvas aside and started afresh.
The Painter and the Curator:
The Painter and the Curator:
The Painter and the Curator:
His ragged clothing was covered with splotches of paint - Burnt Sienna, Cerulean Blue, and Ochre to be specific. The Mediterranean sun was beating down on his back, as he wiped off beads of sweat from his forehead. He stared at his work. The canvas was a mess, and there was nothing meaningful on it. Even the most lenient art critics wouldn't call it modern art. He threw the canvas aside and started afresh.