A blank canvas, where to start? There’s space for everything and anything. Layers of emotion hiding behind a masked exterior – like the Mona Lisa. Secrets under what you may see.
One word can mean anything from the mid of a sentence to the end of it all. We all have one word to say about everything in our lives, whether it be complaining or stating the greatness of every day , possibly even to be seen through actions or simple statements . One word is not very big but it can mean everything to one person.
Nicole
Big. Pretty. Artistic. Happiness. Love.
They’re really big and pretty pieces of art that bring the artistic side of me. I use it to illustrate my happiness or love for someone. Yay
jen
They say imagination is the most precious, most beautiful commodity to behold and to hold. I sit in front of this blank canvas and I do not see anything. Has imagination left me along with my favorite childhood memories?
laetitia
please dont show me canvas yet another. please give me a chance to something other. i cant stand the hatrid it creates. the pain i feel it takes away.
Akaylah Ellison
really again with canvas its getting faster than anyone can imagine you would think by now that i have a story for but in actua;ity i just sit around waiting for the stories to write themselves. like a painter a canvas
Akaylah Ellison
Our lives are just mere blips in the canvas of eternity , just a passing second , just a mere dot . What we do , what we feel , what we experience , our hopes , dreams ,regrets ,fears are just like a grain of sand in a sand storm : insignificant .
ste
it is beautiful to see the canvas of flowing hot sun acroos the dessert just glistening all over the beautiful canvas. why is it there in this magnificance i dont know but i do wonder in all its beauty of the canvas
rt
Why do so many people see a canvas as clear? Why is my life seen as something strange and quite ordinary from the outside? I sit in front of this canvas and I can see every hilltop, every valley and every little person out in the field playing. I look at my life and I see an adventure which no one else can see. My life is a blank canvas only to those who can’t see through my eyes.
laetitia
canvas canvas canvas. they al shout. they pain they hide behind their words. the emotions hidden behind their screams and all for what nothing other than a painter with a paint brush and a hidden canvas, going to paint the world.
Akaylah Ellison
Someone once decided to put a blank piece of canvas in one of the most prestigious art museums and call it art. I thought not. I can take anyone of the street and put them in my house and call them family, it would not make them that. Art is filled with more than just the provocative, but rather with love and admiration, and most of all beauty.
laetitia
There’s nothing to do when there’s nothing to see. Let me look at you when you’re finished, let me make you into something beautiful. Oh the sights and sorrows of men. I can’t paint but I cry when I see what they did.
laetitia
a canvas is a place to paint the stories which no one can tell. you have to see with your eyes feel it with your soul you must endure it with patience. with each stroke of paint on the canvas that you paint. you tell of love, happiness, and surrender all thoughts of anger.
Akaylah Ellison
She smiled and breathed in the sweet smell of coffee. Staring at the blank canvas in front of her, her mind began to swim with thousands of little ideas all taking off at once, yet not a one seeming to grow to the potential that she wanted it to have.
The blank ceiling held a widespread canvas across the reaches of the elderly ward. Spotted here and there with a light at even intervals, it allowed Joseph to roam across his thoughts in tranquility.
What an extraordinary canvas! Such movement, such grace! It really does remind me of the work that he used to do before … well, before the difficult time in his life began. Then his canvas’s turned so dark and forbidding!
i have to write about canvas? sheesh, tall order. i know next to nothing about canvas. other than it’s a medium with which to paint. that’s about it. my brother refuses to use canvas for his paintings.
rayne halberd
How many people had painted upon him? How many people had left pieces of themselves pressed upon his skin? Did he lay himself out before them because he enjoyed it? Or was he only seeking something to define his existence?
A canvas is a large creation of cotton, that can be blank, or filled with wonderful paintings, images, etc. It has the opportunity to be great, and it has the opportunity to be mediocre, and it has the opportunity to be itself.
Belle
She looks at the canvas with consernation. “Why am I doing this? I’m not a real artist” she asks herself. Her sister had made her go to this and she was very nervous
christine
This is my canvas, I attempt to make pictures with words and make them move through your mind, with each word the characters move and live, love and die. this is my canvas and i’ll paint on it until the story is done, the paint all gone.
just dive in the creme colored canvas with my body covered in every color. schmear my every inch, then rip and tear until everything that I’m feeling is GONE. is that even possible? if you let it all out, does it really go away?
A Canvas. So beautiful. Its just empty, pure, white. Nothing and yet everything comes from it. You can do anything on a canvas, whether it is tell a story, describe someone, or indulge the senses
werger
as blank as the look you gave me when i said i loved you. i only wish that you’re intentions were as clean and pure as this canvas.
A canvas is something in which you can paint your entire life on … or just leave blank.
Tonya Howell
you are a canvas.
one day someone will come
and write upon you
paint delicately
with touches and words unsaid
and every woven piece of you
reflects what you once had
the person who
painted you
kelsie
the canvas is a blank page, something to paint your life on. take time to realize your true colors and use those to make a beautiful picture on the canvas that is your life. don’t be afraid of anything, try everything once. live your life to the fullest and make the world see how beautiful your painting is.
shanna
Prepared to face anything the artist will throw on this empty canvas.
A blank canvas sits at one end of the room. The floor is covered in what might have once been newspaper, but now looks more like the pages of a comic book. They are bright with colours he once knew. The canvas in greying now, it has been blank for so long. The painter sits on a stool, staring at it as though willing a painting to appear. Ever since that day, though, he dreams in black and white.
a canvas.
blank like my soul.
blank like a piece of paper waiting to be filled with something beautiful.
something more than it could imagine.
a canvas.
empty, blank yearning for something better that it doesn’t know.
it knows know bounds because it knows no glory.
a canvas needs an artist to save it from its grief.
Chloe
It was laid out before her. Crisp, white, blank, fresh. She ran her hand over it, admiring it’s plain beauty. Slowly, she began her work. Starting basic, but getting into more detail. As she worked she liked what she saw. The canvas was her paper, her words the paint.
Dani T
I used to liken my life to a canvas . . . I’m not sure I like that metaphor anymore. If my life was a canvas, you’d have to rip it in half so you could have two sides. I think maybe I’m a piece of paper and there are two sides – the side you see and the side I can’t bear for you to see.
A blank canvas has many different uses. But more than anything, a canvas is your own. To do whatever you wish with it. A new start. Blank. And white.
Hanna Weintraub
I sit here, staring at it. What should it be? What COULD it be? So many options, which is the right one for me? I want it to be beautiful, to be all-encompassing and powerful. I hope one day it will. If it doesn’t end up being beautiful, I don’t know what I’ll do with myself.
Kami Basterd
As cliche as this sounds the world is my canvas. A blank canvas that I can’t paint. With no tools, no paints, no pastels, and no muse. Just a canvas I stare at day after day waiting for some form of inspiration. When none comes, because it never does, I’m tempted to destroy my canvas. Because that would be easier, so much easier than trying with the fear of failing. That would be easier than waiting around for something to happen with a feeling that even trying in the slightest would result in failure. The world is my canvas.
Beautiful, but too beautiful for words. Open light blue skies with golden hills closing in on a long, winding, grey road. It winds; seems as if the turns, ups, and downs will never end. On and on, I see the canvas of my road trip, knowing that pictures will never come close to my memory of this trip’s scenery.
natalie
The canvas was blank, before her sat a realm of possibilities, the paint still wet, and the idea’s dripping from her, to make a beautiful, vibrant picture.
Alicia
It was blank. She could write anything she wanted. She would make it a haven of all things she found beautiful in life. From food to nature to ants. To her little puppy dog. To her wonderful husband. She would fit in two city skylines on the one page, merging them forever so that she would no longer feel torn between the two. A blank canvas was all she needed to paint her own future.
A blank canvas, where to start? There’s space for everything and anything. Layers of emotion hiding behind a masked exterior – like the Mona Lisa. Secrets under what you may see.
One word can mean anything from the mid of a sentence to the end of it all. We all have one word to say about everything in our lives, whether it be complaining or stating the greatness of every day , possibly even to be seen through actions or simple statements . One word is not very big but it can mean everything to one person.
Big. Pretty. Artistic. Happiness. Love.
They’re really big and pretty pieces of art that bring the artistic side of me. I use it to illustrate my happiness or love for someone. Yay
They say imagination is the most precious, most beautiful commodity to behold and to hold. I sit in front of this blank canvas and I do not see anything. Has imagination left me along with my favorite childhood memories?
please dont show me canvas yet another. please give me a chance to something other. i cant stand the hatrid it creates. the pain i feel it takes away.
really again with canvas its getting faster than anyone can imagine you would think by now that i have a story for but in actua;ity i just sit around waiting for the stories to write themselves. like a painter a canvas
Our lives are just mere blips in the canvas of eternity , just a passing second , just a mere dot . What we do , what we feel , what we experience , our hopes , dreams ,regrets ,fears are just like a grain of sand in a sand storm : insignificant .
it is beautiful to see the canvas of flowing hot sun acroos the dessert just glistening all over the beautiful canvas. why is it there in this magnificance i dont know but i do wonder in all its beauty of the canvas
Why do so many people see a canvas as clear? Why is my life seen as something strange and quite ordinary from the outside? I sit in front of this canvas and I can see every hilltop, every valley and every little person out in the field playing. I look at my life and I see an adventure which no one else can see. My life is a blank canvas only to those who can’t see through my eyes.
canvas canvas canvas. they al shout. they pain they hide behind their words. the emotions hidden behind their screams and all for what nothing other than a painter with a paint brush and a hidden canvas, going to paint the world.
Someone once decided to put a blank piece of canvas in one of the most prestigious art museums and call it art. I thought not. I can take anyone of the street and put them in my house and call them family, it would not make them that. Art is filled with more than just the provocative, but rather with love and admiration, and most of all beauty.
There’s nothing to do when there’s nothing to see. Let me look at you when you’re finished, let me make you into something beautiful. Oh the sights and sorrows of men. I can’t paint but I cry when I see what they did.
a canvas is a place to paint the stories which no one can tell. you have to see with your eyes feel it with your soul you must endure it with patience. with each stroke of paint on the canvas that you paint. you tell of love, happiness, and surrender all thoughts of anger.
She smiled and breathed in the sweet smell of coffee. Staring at the blank canvas in front of her, her mind began to swim with thousands of little ideas all taking off at once, yet not a one seeming to grow to the potential that she wanted it to have.
The blank ceiling held a widespread canvas across the reaches of the elderly ward. Spotted here and there with a light at even intervals, it allowed Joseph to roam across his thoughts in tranquility.
What an extraordinary canvas! Such movement, such grace! It really does remind me of the work that he used to do before … well, before the difficult time in his life began. Then his canvas’s turned so dark and forbidding!
i have to write about canvas? sheesh, tall order. i know next to nothing about canvas. other than it’s a medium with which to paint. that’s about it. my brother refuses to use canvas for his paintings.
How many people had painted upon him? How many people had left pieces of themselves pressed upon his skin? Did he lay himself out before them because he enjoyed it? Or was he only seeking something to define his existence?
A canvas is a large creation of cotton, that can be blank, or filled with wonderful paintings, images, etc. It has the opportunity to be great, and it has the opportunity to be mediocre, and it has the opportunity to be itself.
She looks at the canvas with consernation. “Why am I doing this? I’m not a real artist” she asks herself. Her sister had made her go to this and she was very nervous
This is my canvas, I attempt to make pictures with words and make them move through your mind, with each word the characters move and live, love and die. this is my canvas and i’ll paint on it until the story is done, the paint all gone.
just dive in the creme colored canvas with my body covered in every color. schmear my every inch, then rip and tear until everything that I’m feeling is GONE. is that even possible? if you let it all out, does it really go away?
A Canvas. So beautiful. Its just empty, pure, white. Nothing and yet everything comes from it. You can do anything on a canvas, whether it is tell a story, describe someone, or indulge the senses
as blank as the look you gave me when i said i loved you. i only wish that you’re intentions were as clean and pure as this canvas.
rtyryer
A canvas is something in which you can paint your entire life on … or just leave blank.
you are a canvas.
one day someone will come
and write upon you
paint delicately
with touches and words unsaid
and every woven piece of you
reflects what you once had
the person who
painted you
the canvas is a blank page, something to paint your life on. take time to realize your true colors and use those to make a beautiful picture on the canvas that is your life. don’t be afraid of anything, try everything once. live your life to the fullest and make the world see how beautiful your painting is.
Prepared to face anything the artist will throw on this empty canvas.
A blank canvas sits at one end of the room. The floor is covered in what might have once been newspaper, but now looks more like the pages of a comic book. They are bright with colours he once knew. The canvas in greying now, it has been blank for so long. The painter sits on a stool, staring at it as though willing a painting to appear. Ever since that day, though, he dreams in black and white.
a canvas.
blank like my soul.
blank like a piece of paper waiting to be filled with something beautiful.
something more than it could imagine.
a canvas.
empty, blank yearning for something better that it doesn’t know.
it knows know bounds because it knows no glory.
a canvas needs an artist to save it from its grief.
It was laid out before her. Crisp, white, blank, fresh. She ran her hand over it, admiring it’s plain beauty. Slowly, she began her work. Starting basic, but getting into more detail. As she worked she liked what she saw. The canvas was her paper, her words the paint.
I used to liken my life to a canvas . . . I’m not sure I like that metaphor anymore. If my life was a canvas, you’d have to rip it in half so you could have two sides. I think maybe I’m a piece of paper and there are two sides – the side you see and the side I can’t bear for you to see.
A blank canvas has many different uses. But more than anything, a canvas is your own. To do whatever you wish with it. A new start. Blank. And white.
I sit here, staring at it. What should it be? What COULD it be? So many options, which is the right one for me? I want it to be beautiful, to be all-encompassing and powerful. I hope one day it will. If it doesn’t end up being beautiful, I don’t know what I’ll do with myself.
As cliche as this sounds the world is my canvas. A blank canvas that I can’t paint. With no tools, no paints, no pastels, and no muse. Just a canvas I stare at day after day waiting for some form of inspiration. When none comes, because it never does, I’m tempted to destroy my canvas. Because that would be easier, so much easier than trying with the fear of failing. That would be easier than waiting around for something to happen with a feeling that even trying in the slightest would result in failure. The world is my canvas.
He scratched his head, and put his hand on his hip. He paced one lap, and the then stroked his beard.
He gave a final, studious glance to his canvas, turned around and left the room.
Beautiful, but too beautiful for words. Open light blue skies with golden hills closing in on a long, winding, grey road. It winds; seems as if the turns, ups, and downs will never end. On and on, I see the canvas of my road trip, knowing that pictures will never come close to my memory of this trip’s scenery.
The canvas was blank, before her sat a realm of possibilities, the paint still wet, and the idea’s dripping from her, to make a beautiful, vibrant picture.
It was blank. She could write anything she wanted. She would make it a haven of all things she found beautiful in life. From food to nature to ants. To her little puppy dog. To her wonderful husband. She would fit in two city skylines on the one page, merging them forever so that she would no longer feel torn between the two. A blank canvas was all she needed to paint her own future.