Hello again. I bring you week #13's drabble written for the narutocontest community over at LiveJournal. This week's theme is "paint".
Art Critic
Although he had never touched a paintbrush, Deidara considered himself an artist, and a damn good one at that. In fact, he believed his many works rivaled even the masterpieces of many great and famous painters.
Unfortunately, there was no way to prove that, for his creations were brief, fleeting, carried away on the wind until not even the smoke and the ashes remained.
He constantly argued with his insufferable partner over what it meant to create a true masterpiece, although they could never agree. It was obvious that the best art was the kind you could only witness for a brief moment, the kind that was unique and one of a kind and would never again be recreated, not even in a thousand years. A snowflake or a flash of lightning across the sky were some of nature's greatest works.
But his foolish partner believed that art should be valued by how well it was able to withstand the tests of time. Giant mountains and winding rivers he claimed were the true masterpieces, and of course, his own wooden body, no longer needing veins filled with blood or lungs filled with air. Deidara personally thought he was no better than a child's doll.
No, his art had life, breath. He painted the sky with fire and smoke in a blazing display that was only visible a moment before it faded away forever. Art was shifting, changing, evolving and never constant.
The cloaked man let a clay bird fly free from his black nailed fingers and watched it soar high before it exploded into shards of brilliant light.
Art wasn't meant for museums where was kept beneath glass like a mummified corpse in a tomb. Art was life, pure and simple.
Art was a bang.