6 – Beautifully Broken – A Short Story Inspired by Alisa Burke’s Art

Alisa Burke is the kind of artist I want to be when I grow up, because she just doesn’t limit herself creatively... yet her work is still so unmistakable that you know whose work you’re seeing at first glance...

[If your podcast app isn’t showing the featured art for this episode above visit rebekahnemethy.com/artink6 to check it out.

Castbox and Podcast Addict are both apps I recommend that do show episode specific art.]

Links from the Show at a Glance:

Artist: Alisa Burke

Title of Art: untitled IG post

Artist’s Website: https://www.shopalisaburke.com/

Artist’s Blog: www.alisaburke.com

Instagram: @alisakburke

Art Ink Submission Guidelines: rebekahnemethy.com/artinksubs

Art Ink Podcast Transcript:

[Intro:]

Hello, my friends! Welcome back to another episode of Art Ink, I’m so grateful that you’ve decided to share your ears with me today.

The story you’re about to hear was sparked by another great artist I discovered on Instagram. What I really love about her art is that she works in so many mediums, and what I really love about her is that she’s so open to sharing her process with her fans. If you scroll through this artist’s Insta page you’ll find art journaling, watercolor, black and white doodling, hand-painted pottery, mandalas, photography, and even enormous murals that cover an entire wall. I haven’t even mentioned the many hand-embellished items you might scroll past... seriously I’ve seen everything from shoes to refrigerators on this artist’s feed.

Alisa Burke is the kind of artist I want to be when I grow up, because she just doesn’t limit herself creatively... yet her work is still so unmistakable that you know whose work you’re seeing at first glance.

With so much gorgeous art to choose from I found myself having decision regret while working on this episode... it’s not that I didn’t still love the piece I picked, but there’s just infinite beauty and inspiration in a lot of her work and every time I see a new piece it’s my new favorite.

But the reason I was inspired to write today’s story didn’t just come from looking at Alisa’s art, the caption is what solidified the direction I’d be going in. But before I share the caption with you, it’ll just make more sense after I describe today’s featured art.

[Art Description:]

With a quick glance you’ll see a yellow and red flower, but upon further inspection you’ll see that this flower has been pulled apart and then put together again, in fact, this one flower is a mosaic, you could even call it a flower mandala, that’s made of at least 3 different flowers.

In it’s very center is a yellow mum (at least I think these are mums), and it looks like about half of its petals have been evenly removed from the outside. There is a faint orangey tint to the outer rim of this yellow centerpiece. Surrounding this yellow middle are 3 rings of plucked petals, all carefully placed so that they appear to be spreading outwards. The first ring around the center is made of red petals, the petals surrounding those are white at their inner points and transition to pale pink on the wider outer parts. The last, and largest ring is made up of yellow petals that transition to red, and this outermost ring is just a tad messier than the rest.

The remnants of the flowers used, and some loose petals are scattered to the left and bottom of the image. In the bottom left corner a half-opened pair of scissors lies among them.

And the caption Alisa used along with the photo? She wrote, “One of the most important things I’ve learned is that things can beautiful even when they fall apart. #beautyinbrokenness”

I call this piece of fiction, Beautifully Broken. Enjoy.

[Story:]

She looked into the mirror, ran her tongue over the bloated crack, tasted the coppery blood, felt the familiar sting as the dried salt from her tears mingled with salvia and slid over the wound. How many times had she licked at her wounds like this? She’d lost track. Countless times.

She ran her fingers under the eye she couldn’t open; the left eye. He was right handed, so this was normal. She winced, not at the pain so much as the thought: when did this become normal?

“How was your day?” He’d said when he walked in the front door an hour earlier. He didn’t have his uniform on, so obviously he wasn’t coming from work, but she knew better than to question it.

“Good.” She gave him a practiced smile, so practiced that she almost convinced herself of her happiness.

“How were your mentees today?” he asked.

“Oh, ...