Art can be beautiful and disturbing. Sculptures can be made from clay, but never flesh. In this circumstance, art is debated and adored. Will an artist be able to put himself into his work with no self-portrait?

Donatella Claire, an art student, and blogger who sought out new material for her website. Finally living the dream and discovering artworks of all kinds, she stumbles upon an artwork drenched in solitude. The Louvre has many historical works on display but refuses to publicize one in particular. 

'An artwork without emotion is no artwork': Edvard Munch.
But one may ask, what then, is art?: Marcel Duchamp.

Her love for art threatens her relationship, her passion for it causes her to face her mistakes. Her determination drives her into the supernatural. What happens next, is left on the sketchpad.

The Painters Death Wish

The streets were bare of the scars of tires and the wind carried a chilling breath. Dona had stepped out of Crystal's studio, jacket in hand she clicked her way down the sidewalk. Something Madam Alice said, kept gnawing at her. She had forgotten the little boy's name. Dona hailed a cab, stepped into it's minty interior and looked out of the window. It started to rain. The sky turned tar-black and the clouds marched in grey. She got a message from an unknown number. 


"Hi, I'm Belle, I'm sure you've heard of me."As quick as she sniffled it continued. "Madam Alice has kept me up to speed with the case, but she spoke of something rather intriguing that you mentioned." 


She looked up and noticed that the road was busy. Lights jumped into view and returned to her phone. 


Der Nachtmahr