Maung Tun Thu - The Painter, Fearful and the Crimson Flower

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This dog

Today I feel as if a huge, heavy burden has been lifted from my body. A completely unexpected stroke of luck has suddenly appeared. It is the day when I will throw away my engineering uniform, the tools I have always handled, and all my calculations, and say, "You all go to hell."

But is it a shame that I'm so happy that my aunt died? Because my aunt left me an inheritance when she died. And because of that, I was able to quit my job, right?

This is true. My aunt, when she was dying, expressed her wish that I should do the work I loved. Anyway, I am happy that I can now fulfill my aunt's fervent wish. Here's the story. Yesterday...our chief officer was very surprised when he heard that I was leaving the job. When I explained what I was going to do, he looked at me with his mouth wide open.

"For the love of art, right? Well.. ..you gave me your resignation letter."

That's all he said. He left without saying anything else. For me, that's what I want most. To achieve the highest happiness, right?

I wanted to get away from people, away from St. Petersburg. So I rented a boat and set out along the seashore. In the distance, the water, the sky, the city, sparkling in the sun. Along the shores of the seas, blue forests. At the exit of Kronstadt Road, I could see the tops of the masts. Steamers and sailing ships passed by my boat. Everything seemed to me to be seen in a new light.

All of these things are my possessions. All of them are within my power. I can take them all. I can freely put them on the canvas. And then I can show them to the public. I can captivate people with the power of art. That's right. A person can't sell a bear's fur before he's caught a bear. As things stand, I can't call myself a great artist.

The boat was moving slowly on the smooth water. The boatman was a tall, strong, handsome young man. He was wearing a crimson shirt. He was pulling the oars hard and steadily, his body swaying back and forth. The boat was moving forward at a great speed with his powerful strokes. The setting sun was shining on his face. The orange and crimson colors mixed together and dominated my mind. The desire to paint his portrait with paints was very strong in my mind. In the suitcase that I usually carried with me wherever I went, there were canvases, paints, and brushes.

“Can you stop the boat and be quiet for a minute? I want to paint a picture of you,” I said.

He immediately stopped rowing the boat. "Please sit on the raft like a bird resting on the raft."

He pulled the paddles back and spread his arms out wide on the paddles like a bird's wings. And he sat there motionless. It was a beautiful sight. I took a pencil and a sketch and started to draw. I mixed colors with joy. As long as I live and am alive, I know that nothing can move my mind from what I see.

Soon the boatman seemed to be getting tired of his work. A tired expression crossed his face. He sneezed softly and wiped his face with his sleeve. As he leaned forward and wiped his face with his hand on the table, the wrinkles, creases, folds, and folds of his shirt were no longer as they had been before. It was very disappointing. I am a person who hates to show off.

"Can't you just stay still, my friend?"

He was smiling widely.

"Why are you laughing?"

"That's funny"

He replied with a sleepy smile.

"Wait, what's so funny?"

"Because I'm painting as if I were a rare commodity. I'm going to become a painting, right?"

"Well...my dear, if drawing is not a painting, what else can it be?"

"Why do you want to tow that car?"

“Just practice. If you spend a lot of time drawing small things like me, you’ll be able to draw big things later.”

"Big ones, right?"

"Yes"

He was quiet. Then

"Then you can also imagine pictures of great people."

I asked again.

"Of course I can draw. But I prefer to draw pictures that I see in real life."

"Yes?"

He was silent again. Then he asked again. "What are those for?"

"What are you talking about?"

"I'm talking about the paintings you've painted."

As usual. I did not lecture him on the purpose and nature of art. I explained to him in a simple way that he could understand that I was drawing pictures to sell for a good price. I did not ask for a thousand or two thousand rubles. Sometimes I could get more than that, he explained to me. The boatman understood and was satisfied. He did not ask any more questions. The sketch I had drawn was also an excellent one. The red shirt in particular, mixed with the sunset, gave a very beautiful color. I returned home in a very happy mood.