So, you’re probably asking about this “artwork of the devil” thing I was tinkering with. Let me tell you straight up, it wasn’t some flash of artistic genius or anything. Nah, nothing like that.
That One Awful Week
It really kicked off after one of those weeks, you know the type? Everything just kept going sideways. Work was a total bear, then my trusty old laptop decided to just give up on life. And to put a cherry on top, my go-to coffee spot, the one that makes my morning survivable, was fresh out of my usual. Sounds like small potatoes, I get it, but man, all those little things just piled up and started to really grind my gears.
So, Saturday morning hits, and I’m just pacing around, feeling all wound up. I absolutely had to do something, anything, to shake off that cruddy feeling.
Diving into the Mess
Then I remembered this old box of art stuff I’d stashed in the back of a closet ages ago. We’re talking super basic gear here – some crusty acrylic paints, a couple of brushes that were definitely past their prime, and this old canvas I think I snagged for free at some point. No plan, not a single clue what I was doing.
I just started sloshing paint onto that canvas. Went for the dark shades, you know, blacks, deep reds, that kind of vibe. I wasn’t aiming to paint a masterpiece or anything specific. It was more like I was trying to paint how I felt, if that makes any sense. Just pure, unfiltered frustration.
Things got a bit wild from there. I found an old newspaper, ripped it into shreds, and started gluing bits onto the canvas. Then I spotted some dried-up soil from a plant that didn’t make it – yup, that went on too. It was quickly turning into a real chaotic jumble, a proper disaster zone.
There was this moment, I’m not gonna lie, where I almost just chucked the whole thing in the trash. It looked like a complete train wreck. But then I figured, “Nah, this is my train wreck. I gotta see where this crazy train goes.”
The Big Reveal (to Myself)
I kept at it for a good few hours, just layering on more junk, smearing paint around with my fingers, not really giving a damn about how it was turning out. The whole point was just the act of making it, of getting all that pent-up energy out.
When I finally took a step back and looked at it, whoa. It was… something else. Totally chaotic, a little bit unsettling, and definitely not the kind of thing you’d hang up to impress your friends. My very first thought was, “Jeez, that looks like something the devil himself cooked up when he was having a really rotten day.”
And that’s pretty much how it got its name. It wasn’t about trying to be edgy or summon demons or anything like that. It was just a brutally honest snapshot of all that bottled-up stress and mayhem from the week.
So, What Was the Point?
So yeah, that’s the saga of my “artwork of the devil.” It’s not going to be featured in any fancy galleries, believe me. It’s probably still hiding out in that same closet. But you know what? The process of making it? It actually felt incredibly good. Like letting out a huge scream, but with paint and glue instead of noise.
It kind of showed me that sometimes, you just need to let all the messy, ugly feelings out, even if what you create looks a bit, well, diabolical. It doesn’t always have to be neat, tidy, or make sense to anyone else. Sometimes, just getting it done and out of your system is the best therapy there is.
And hey, if you ever find yourself snowed under by one of those weeks, maybe give it a shot. Try making your own “artwork of the devil.” Can’t hurt, right? Just, uh, don’t come crying to me if your dog starts barking at it.
