A lot of my inspiration for some of my paintings had come from the Short Story "The Bet" by Anton Chekhov, this Story I first read in high school and impacted for life one of my favorite for sure. Here is a small part of that short story and "Rain Dance" Painting as it was inspire by this, enjoy.
At the table a man unlike ordinary people was sitting motionless. He
was a skeleton with the skin drawn tight over his bones, with long curls
like a woman's and a shaggy beard. His face was yellow with an earthy
tint in it, his cheeks were hollow, his back long and narrow, and the
hand on which his shaggy head was propped was so thin and delicate that
it was dreadful to look at it. His hair was already streaked with
silver, and seeing his emaciated, aged-looking face, no one would have
believed that he was only forty. He was asleep ... In front of his
bowed head there lay on the table a sheet of paper on which there was
something written in fine handwriting.
"Poor
creature!" thought the banker, "he is asleep and most likely dreaming of
the millions. And I have only to take this half-dead man, throw him on
the bed, stifle him a little with the pillow, and the most conscientious
expert would find no sign of a violent death. But let us first read
what he has written here ... "
The banker took the page from the table and read as follows:
"To-morrow at twelve o'clock I regain my freedom and the right
to associate with other men, but before I leave this room and see the
sunshine, I think it necessary to say a few words to you. With a clear
conscience I tell you, as before God, who beholds me, that I despise
freedom and life and health, and all that in your books is called the
good things of the world.
"For fifteen years I have
been intently studying earthly life. It is true I have not seen the
earth nor men, but in your books I have drunk fragrant wine, I have sung
songs, I have hunted stags and wild boars in the forests, have loved
women ... Beauties as ethereal as clouds, created by the magic of your
poets and geniuses, have visited me at night, and have whispered in my
ears wonderful tales that have set my brain in a whirl. In your books I
have climbed to the peaks of Elburz and Mont Blanc, and from there I
have seen the sun rise and have watched it at evening flood the sky, the
ocean, and the mountain-tops with gold and crimson. I have watched from
there the lightning flashing over my head and cleaving the
storm-clouds. I have seen green forests, fields, rivers, lakes, towns. I
have heard the singing of the sirens, and the strains of the shepherds'
pipes; I have touched the wings of comely devils who flew down to
converse with me of God ... In your books I have flung myself into the
bottomless pit, performed miracles, slain, burned towns, preached new
religions, conquered whole kingdoms ...
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| "Raindance" Acrylic on 24x24 Canvas |
"Your books have given me wisdom. All that the unresting
thought of man has created in the ages is compressed into a small
compass in my brain. I know that I am wiser than all of you.
"And I despise your books, I despise wisdom and the blessings of
this world. It is all worthless, fleeting, illusory, and deceptive,
like a mirage. You may be proud, wise, and fine, but death will wipe you
off the face of the earth as though you were no more than mice
burrowing under the floor, and your posterity, your history, your
immortal geniuses will burn or freeze together with the earthly globe.
"You have lost your reason and taken the wrong path. You have
taken lies for truth, and hideousness for beauty. You would marvel if,
owing to strange events of some sorts, frogs and lizards suddenly grew
on apple and orange trees instead of fruit, or if roses began to smell
like a sweating horse; so I marvel at you who exchange heaven for earth.
I don't want to understand you.
"To prove to you in
action how I despise all that you live by, I renounce the two million of
which I once dreamed as of paradise and which now I despise. To deprive
myself of the right to the money I shall go out from here five hours
before the time fixed, and so break the compact ..."
When the banker had read this he laid the page on the table, kissed the
strange man on the head, and went out of the lodge, weeping. At no other
time, even when he had lost heavily on the Stock Exchange, had he felt
so great a contempt for himself. When he got home he lay on his bed, but
his tears and emotion kept him for hours from sleeping.
