Awakening To The Joy Of Painting
PAGE 1. 6 panels.
Panel 1. HANEUL stands close behind ZEN, who is sitting on the couch. The camera is looking slightly up at both of them. ZEN is holding a sealed envelope in their hands, an extremely uneasy look on their face. Their fingers are trembling slightly, and pure hesitance radiates from them. HANEUL is looking at them, brows drawn together in concern – while she’s preoccupied with her envelope, he’s much more concerned about her wellbeing.
HANEUL:
I know how much this means to you… so, don’t rush yourself.
Panel 2. ZEN turns a little bit, looking over her shoulder at HANEUL. Her eyes are beginning to brim with tears. They clutch the envelope, crinkling it, their face absolutely written with misery and fear. Only the side of HANEUL’s head is visible at this angle.
ZEN: [wobbly]
Wh… why did I hinge so much of my pride on this stupid contest…?! I lost… I can feel it. I know I lost.
HANEUL: [offscreen]
Zen—
Panel 3. ZEN begins to rip it open, not really caring about what becomes of the paper inside. Tears spill down her face; she’s extremely upset. HANEUL is behind her, looking very concerned and alarmed now. He’s seen her in a highly upset state before, but it never ceases to worry him.
SFX: RRRIP
ZEN:
Months of my life lost on that stupid canvas just for them to tell me that I’m not good enough –
HANEUL:
Careful, Zen, the results—
Panel 4. Close up on what’s written in the beginning of the slightly crumpled contents of the envelope. All that can really be made out is a header that says, “UNIVERSITY OF”, and the opening line that reads: “ZEN MELTON, We regret to inform you that your submission”. ZEN’s hand is in the shot, thumb digging into the paper, crumpling it further.
ZEN: [offscreen]
Knew it – I knew it –
Panel 5. In full-on tears, eyes screwed shut, ZEN begins to rip up the letter and envelope together, tiny bits of paper falling into her lap. Her passionate misery is burning into the cold sorrow of disappointment, now. HANEUL comes to sit beside them on the couch, hand reaching out to comfort. He almost looks as anguished as she does.
ZEN: [wobbly]
Never should have gotten my hopes up… there’s no way I’m good enough to be displayed in a gallery… I was doomed from the start…
HANEUL:
Oh, Zen… I’m sorry. I know how bad you wanted this.
Panel 6. ZEN clings to HANEUL suddenly, face hidden in the crook of his neck. He reciprocates without hesitation, holding her close, one hand on the back of her head, stroking her hair consolingly. He closes his eyes as well, like he wants to cry with her, but just looks pained, features of his face tense.
SFX: WAAAH
ZEN: [wobbly]
I-I… I really, really wanted this…! I wanted to win…!!
HANEUL:
I know you did… I know. It’s okay… it’ll be okay.
PAGE 2. “INTERLUDE” #1. 6 panels.
Panel 1. ZEN as we know her now. She’s standing in a bright, white gallery, surrounded by HANEUL’s art on canvases. She’s standing still in the middle of the room, looking struck. The colors of this whole page are really washed out and faded; the color scheme is mostly dull mint greens and grays.
Panel 2. They look down at the price tag of one of the pieces, underneath the informational square besides the canvas. It’s worth $10,000, and has already been sold out. They put a hand over their mouth, like they can’t believe it.
Panel 3. They step out of the gallery and breathe hot air into their hands. It’s late at night and looks freezing; they’re illuminated by the bright lights behind them. They’re wearing fingerless gloves, and one of them has a small hole on it. Everything about their appearance seems opposite to HANEUL’s high-class art world.
Panel 4. On their way home, they stop outside of an art store; it’s already got its Closed sign up. They look with admiration at a fancy drawing desk that’s being displayed in the window. It’s several hundred dollars and looks very professional. She’s clearly awestruck, but has to force herself to keep walking.
Panel 5. ZEN is home now, it’s probably around midnight. She’s hunched over in an awkward position on the ground, scribbling with oil pastels intensely over a big sheet of white paper she’s unrolled across her wood floors. They’ve got an intense look on their face, their eyes shining with focus, sweat beading their forehead.
Panel 6. Similar scene, except now sunshine shines through ZEN’s window. She’s curled up on the hard floor, she just collapsed where she was when she finished drawing. All of her emotions are poured into the piece across the floor, that she’s practically sleeping on top of now. It’s chaotic and filled with energy, but notably, it’s very different from HANEUL’s clean, mature work.
PAGE 3. 7 Panels.
Panel 1. Resume modern day scene. ZEN settles against HANEUL, face streaked with tears. He keeps his arms around them, both of his hands interlaced together against their shoulder, and ZEN’s hand lays against his chest. His eyes remained closed, whereas she looks blankly towards the ground. ZEN’s knees come up to almost lay against HANEUL’s lap, whereas HANEUL’s feet remain planted on the floor.
ZEN:
Tell me nice things, okay…?
HANEUL [response]:
Well, I liked your piece… and there’s always next year.
Panel 2. Same position. ZEN’s bottom lip wobbles, eyebrows knit together sorrowfully. HANEUL looks down at them, face apologetic.
ZEN:
…I don’t like those “nice things”.
HANEUL:
Sorry. I’m bad at comforting people.
Panel 3. ZEN pulls away slightly, but one of HANEUL’s hands remain on their shoulder. ZEN raises their hand to wipe away their eyes on the back of it, face momentarily hidden, head hanging. HANEUL appears to be letting out a sigh.
ZEN:
I’m jealous of you… you never had to fight to be displayed a day in your life.
HANEUL:
The art world is dog-eat-dog sometimes… if it were up to me, we’d always be displayed together.
Panel 4. ZEN looks up a little, hand still close to their face, their cheeks and nose red from crying. However, they’ve managed a small smile, eyebrows curving upward. HANEUL smiles back at her.
ZEN:
… That was a better “nice thing”.
HANEUL:
Hmm.
Panel 5. Finally, ZEN stands up, stretching their arms above their head until their back pops. All of the little bits of paper that were laying on their lap scatter on to the rug on the floor. HANEUL remains seated, looking up at them in muted concern.
SFX: POP!
ZEN:
-- but I’m still really mad at you, because I have to go to work now…
HANEUL: [response]
Why don’t you call in sick?
Panel 6. Camera is behind HANEUL’s head slightly, like we’re looking at ZEN from close-to-his perspective. She gives him a tiny, regretful smile, shoulders hunched in a shrug. She’s reaching for her jacket, which is haphazardly laying across the coffee table. ZEN does not keep a tidy home whatsoever.
ZEN:
I can cry here on the couch with a tub of ice cream, or I can cry getting paid minimum wage at my desk… it doesn’t really make a difference.
HANEUL:
I would say it does. One option has ice cream. … And me.
Panel 7. ZEN and HANEUL never quite say “I love you” to each other; they say things like that. ZEN looks at him with eyes full of adoration, their gaze soft and appreciative at his steadiness during their emotional outbursts. In this panel, they look at each other, ZEN standing up and HANEUL still sitting, and everything is very quiet and nice. HANEUL smiles at them, looking sympathetic.
SFX: sniffle
ZEN:
I’ll see you tonight… okay?
HANEUL:
… Okay. Have a good day.
PAGE 4. “INTERLUDE” #2. 6 panels.
Panel 1. We see ZEN, this time a little bit younger. This is her first year of art school; she looks a little more well-kept, with her normally wild mane of hair brushed back into a neat, low ponytail. She also doesn’t have the noticeable eye bags she usually has in modern times. She’s sitting in a classroom filled with featureless/vague classmates, and they’re all doing a figure drawing exercise with a model in the middle of the room. The colors are still washed out and faded, but instead of a lifeless mint green, its more of a steel blue color scheme. ZEN looks very focused on their drawing.
Panel 2. ZEN peeks over at the classmate’s easel next to them, and gawks at the amazing drawing there. It looks extremely realistic, and it’s clear that ZEN is impressed, if a little bit intimidated. A small part of ZEN’s drawing is shown on their own easel, but they’re only just getting into the gesture with lots of rough, sketchy lines.
Panel 3. A small time-skip forward and everyone in the class is packing up their things, putting their sketchpads into their bags and folding up their easels, or carrying their stools away. ZEN still sits in the same spot, brows knitted together in focus as she continues tweaking the drawing, even though the model has long stepped off the raised area in the room. The professor of the class stands behind her with a pleased/encouraging expression, arms crossed over his chest.
Panel 4. Another tiny time-skip forward and the sun is setting outside, but ZEN is still drawing in the same classroom. Now they’ve started drawing just anything that they can see, tables, chairs, drawers, you name it. However, ZEN’s head turns to attention at the professor, who is holding his briefcase and gesturing to the door. Its clear it’s getting late, so it’s time to go home. ZEN is smiling and nodding at him, still holding up the charcoal in their hand.
Panel 5. ZEN on the bus home. They have a streak of charcoal across their nose from when they wiped their face earlier. They have their sketchbook propped up in their lap on the bus, and now they’re drawing people around them with wide, focused eyes. The bus looks pretty packed with people but ZEN has carved out a corner for themself, drawing in a frenzy.
Panel 6. Now, ZEN is home. They collapse face-first on their couch, hands and arms stained with charcoal. Their sketchbook falls in a flutter on the floor beside them; one leg dangles over the edge of the couch while the other is slung across the armrest, their arms by their sides. She didn’t even bother to take her coat or sneakers off. It’s totally dark outside now, and ZEN has just passed out completely after a long day of overworking herself.
PAGE 5. 6 Panels.
Panel 1. Resume modern-day scene. Exterior, ZEN walking in to work. They’re just arriving at the front door, beginning to open it. All we can see is the corner of the sign that says “LIBRARY”. They’re all bundled up in their coat from before. They still kind of look like a mess, with red-rimmed tearful eyes, but they’ve got a black mask on over their nose, so that helps.
ZEN: [thinking]
God… I’m gonna have to call mom and dad to tell them I lost… that’s the most pathetic thing I’ve ever heard of. They were so excited for me, too.
Panel 2. ZEN settles in at the front desk, mask momentarily pulled down under their chin as they blow their nose with a tissue. Their computer in front of them is just starting to boot up. Around them, shelves of books and some library patrons milling about are visible. The camera looks over ZEN’s shoulder, and in the far background, we can see a LITTLE KID getting up from their table and coming toward the desk.
SFX: SNRRRK
ZEN: [thinking]
It actually serves me right that I didn’t win…I don’t think there was a single minute of me painting that piece that I had any fun. I’ve brought nothing but misery and jealousy to my art for months now…
Panel 3. LITTLE KID reaches the front desk, barely peeking over the edge of the countertop, their little fingers holding on to the edge. ZEN looks down at them, startling out of her thoughts when the LITTLE KID starts to speak; it’s like she almost forgot she was at work for a minute. She fixes her mask back into place; the kid isn’t wearing one.
LITTLE KID:
Excuse me? Can I have some crayons and something to draw on?
ZEN:
-- oh! Sure!
Panel 4. ZEN hands the requested items, a couple sheets of white paper and a pack of crayons, to LITTLE KID. We can see her desk drawer is open, where she retrieved them from. LITTLE KID’s hands are also outstretched to accept them, expression neutral. ZEN is giving her best happy customer service face.
LITTLE KID:
Thank you.
ZEN: [response]
No worries. Let me know if you need anything else, okay?
LITTLE KID: [counter-response]
Okay.
Panel 5. Camera is looking over ZEN’s shoulder. Her chin is resting in the palm of her hand, and she looks wistful. We can see the LITTLE KID back at their table, hunched over the paper, gripping the crayon in their closed fist as they scribble away.
ZEN: [thinking]
… When’s the last time art was fun?
Part 6. We’re looking directly, face-forward at ZEN now. Their eyes widen, chin lifting off their palm slightly. Their eyebrows are curved a little bit sorrowfully, but their eyes are very bright, like they’re having a revelation.
ZEN: [thinking]
When’s the last time I drew whatever I wanted without worrying about whether or not it was good?
PAGE 6. “INTERLUDE” #3. 6 panels.
Panel 1. ZEN is even younger here than the last interlude. The color scheme is slightly warmer and less depressing than before, mostly consisting of tangerine and orange colors. She’s probably 15 or 16 now, noticeable by her shorter hair that lays in a frizzy, spiky bob against her shoulders. She wears a prim school uniform, same as her female classmates in the frame. They’re all in a classroom together, and three or four girls stand around ZEN’s desk, where her sketchbook sits, open and filled with little drawings. ZEN looks sheepish but happy, and the girls around them point and smile at the drawings, clearly complimenting them.
Panel 2. In an art class, an art teacher with an apron on stands behind ZEN, pointing out something in their sketchbook with a smile. ZEN, holding a paintbrush, looks up at the teacher and smiles. More than anything, ZEN looks like they’re having a lot of fun.
Panel 3. ZEN sits in the bleachers during a PE class. They’re in a PE uniform now, but they look out at the girls on the indoor basketball court running around, their spiralbound sketchbook in their lap. In this panel, Zen holds her arms out and creates a frame with her index fingers and thumbs, one of her eyes closed, as if she’s trying to figure out the best way to draw the girls playing basketball as opposed to participating.
Panel 4. ZEN coming home, waving at her dad with her backpack slung over her shoulder and sketchbook under her arm. Her dad stands in the dining room area. He’s got an easel and canvas set up there, and holds a palette with his thumb in his left hand and a paintbrush in his right. There’s a pretty landscape on his canvas. He smiles at her, welcoming her home.
Panel 5. ZEN sits at their desk in their room with their lamp on and earbuds in their ears. With a tranquil smile on their face, they continue drawing in their sketchbook, night having fallen outside.
Panel 6. It’s the middle of the night now, and ZEN is sleeping peacefully curled up under the covers of their bed. We zoom out slightly and see ZEN’s room in full; it’s got lots of art that she’s drawn herself strewn across the walls, and there’s a stack of full sketchbooks underneath her desk. Their supplies are organized neatly into little compartments on their desk. It’s clear that ZEN is drawing because they love it, not because they feel pressured to succeed.
Page 7. Six panels.
Panel 1. Resume modern-day scene. LITTLE KID holds up the piece of paper in front of them. It’s covered in random-colored squiggles and lines, rough from the crayon. LITTLE KID looks really proud of themself, and their big smile reflects that.
Panel 2. As if the camera is standing in front of the shared desks, we see ZEN looking straight forward towards us while her coworker, also at their own computer, turns to ZEN in surprise. ZEN has a blank look on their face.
ZEN:
… I’m going to throw up.
COWORKER:
What?
Panel 3. ZEN is shrugging their coat back on, still looking forward at LITTLE KID.
ZEN:
I’m going to throw up. Now. I have to go home – I’m literally about to throw up.
COWORKER:
Oh, um – okay!?
Panel 4. ZEN runs down the sidewalk, the library door swinging open, going back towards their apartment complex. It’s cold and a little rainy outside, so their breaths billow around them in white clouds. Their inspiration is on fire suddenly; they can’t miss a single more second of it. They have to draw now.
Panel 5. ZEN throws open their front door with such aggression that it hits the inside wall, effectively scaring the hell out of HANEUL, who has a video game controller in hand.
SFX: SLAM!!
HANEUL:
AGH!!
Panel 6. HANEUL turns around, eyes wide, peeking over the edge of the couch while ZEN works her coat back off. Her brows are drawn together in intense focus, expression eerily serene. She’s not quite looking at HANEUL, lost in her own imagination.
HANEUL:
Zen!? What are you doing home? You’ve only been gone for two hours!
ZEN: [response]
Shh – don’t say anything, you’ll ruin it. Shit. I need – where’s the acrylic gesso?
HANEUL: [counter-response]
In the cabinet, where it always is—
PAGE 8. FINAL “INTERLUDE”. 6 panels.
Panel 1. We see ZEN, who is maybe 8 or 9, her wild hair tamed into two braids. She wears a cute pair of overalls. In this first panel, young ZEN draws on the floor with a piece of paper and crayon. We see them at a flat, forward-facing angle. The wall behind them is blank, aside from the window to the right of her. The window is wide open, and it’s sunny outside. She’s sitting with her legs crossed, looking content. Whereas the previous interludes have had dulled and sad colors, this page is full of bright, saturated, happy yellows and pinks.
Panel 2. Same angle. ZEN is still drawing, but is this time sitting in a slightly different position, lips pouted as they draw with intense focus and feet tucked beneath her. Two or three scribbled crayon drawings are now pinned to the wall behind them.
Panel 3. Same angle. ZEN lays on their stomach, feet swinging back and forth in the air. They’re still drawing with crayons and paper. Now, there’s more like seven to ten crayon drawings pinned on the wall behind her. She’s smiling very contentedly, as if she’s not even noticing the time passing, just accumulating more and more drawings.
Panel 4. Same angle. This time she’s sitting up, cross-legged once more, and eating a piece of pizza in one hand. In her right hand, she still holds her crayon, reaching out to make another stroke on the paper in front of her. There’s a discarded paper plate beside her; the implication is that one of her parents brought in food for her while she’s busy “playing”. But even as she’s eating, she doesn’t stop drawing. There’s twenty or so drawings on the wall behind her now. Her eyes sparkle with imagination.
Panel 5. Same angle. Night falls outside, but the inside of her room stays bright and vibrant. Her floors and walls are positively covered with scribbled-on papers. They’re laying on their stomach once more, mouth open with a few musical notes above them to show that they’re singing to themself and having a nice, fun time. You can’t see any of the bareness of the wall left anymore because it’s covered in papers, and only a few areas of the carpet of their room are uncovered by drawings.
Panel 6. Same angle. ZEN lays on their back with their arms and legs spread out, almost like they’re doing a snow angel in their sea of drawings. Everything is covered with doodles now, the bed, the desk, the floor, and the walls. Now satisfied, ZEN has fallen asleep on the floor with a big smile on their face, one crayon still laying in their hand even as they sleep. This is the pure, childlike love that ZEN had for art once; it was her biggest comfort, her imagination, her ‘playtime’. This page exemplifies how at one time in her life, she never cared for the quality or reception or price of her works, just having fun making them, and making them in the first place.
PAGE 9. 6 Panels.
Panel 1. Resume modern-day scene. ZEN starts manically sifting through huge, blank canvases that lean against the wall by the window, yet another glimpse about how unorganized she keeps things in her apartment. HANEUL behind her, still on the couch, looks half alarmed, half impressed.
ZEN:
Can you prep this canvas while I wash my brushes?
HANEUL: [response]
Um, sure, but – what’s gotten into you? You’re scaring me.
Panel 2. ZEN flips around to face him, gesturing animatedly as she walks into the kitchen. A mason jar filled with brushes of all sizes is already present on the countertop; that’s just where she keeps them.
ZEN:
I finally figured out the stick that’s been up my ass – art just hasn’t been fun for me lately. What was that thing Picasso said – “it took four years to paint like Raphael, and a lifetime to paint like a child”?
HANEUL: [response] [offscreen]
Yeah? What about it?
Panel 3. ZEN pours out all of the brushes into the kitchen sink. They talk a little bit louder, over the rush of the faucet water. The paint water is murky and a dark brown-gray color. A bottle of pink soap is present next to the sink.
SFX: FSSSSSSSHHH
ZEN: [loudly, over the water]
I’ve spent so much time and energy torturing myself into painting like Raphael – but, god, I’ll never be Raphael! I still feel like a little child inside. So, can you please prep this canvas for me?
Panel 4. HANEUL looks quietly amazed at her. His eyes are wide, shoulders drooping – but there’s something gentle and impressed in the smile he smiles.
ZEN: [offscreen]
-- oh, and do you know where the crayons are?
HANEUL:
Okay… okay. Yeah. One second. I’ll go get the gesso and crayons.
Panel 5. ZEN looks small in the background in the kitchen. We follow HANEUL as he walks to a hallway cabinet. He starts to open it, and a sliver of ZEN’s art supplies can be seen, just as disorganized as the rest of their apartment.
ZEN:
And my apron?
HANEUL: [response]
And your apron.
HANEUL: [thinking]
I don’t think I’ve ever seen someone bounce back so quickly… they really are the most incredible artist I know.
Panel 6. A slight close-up on ZEN from the front. She holds one of her now-clean paintbrushes between her teeth and smiles toothily to herself. Both her hands are up, putting her huge mane of hair into her signature, fluffy pony-tail. Her eyes shine with inspiration and excitement.
ZEN:
All right… let’s do this!