In Radiant Sunlight

Description

I carefully arranged my little paintings all around the garden, hanging them on tree branches, propping them up on old wooden chairs, and placing them on the wooden fence. The paintings on display that day were an improvisation of colors I thought the chickens would surely appreciate: the vibrant red of plum blossoms, the radiant blue of the sky, and streaks of golden orange resembling sunlight streaming through the leaves.

Then, I opened the chicken coop, letting them roam freely around the “exhibition.” The chickens wandered out, curious, bobbing their heads and clucking as if they were discussing the art they had never seen before. One majestic rooster, standing before a painting with bright red streaks, suddenly spread his wings wide and crowed with a spirited pride. I had no idea if that was a sign of approval or disapproval, but the exhibition had certainly made an impression.

I watched from afar, looking at my flock of chickens with a sense of satisfaction like no other. We had no fancy guests, no grand opening ceremony—just me, the chickens, and a sunny afternoon. Yet, it was a moment when I felt I had touched a certain freedom—freedom to create, freedom to express without worrying about judgment or criticism.

The exhibition ended when the chickens started hopping around, flapping their wings, and joyfully scattering fallen petals all over the garden. They probably didn’t understand anything about art, but one thing I knew for sure: that day, we had created a memory like no other, and I had learned that art could be enjoyed in any way, as long as it brought joy to the heart.

And that was a dream of mine. When I woke up from that dream, I painted this piece. In the warm, glowing sunlight.