Raymond Lenox

This article was considered for deletion at Wikipedia on October 24 2015. This is a backup of Wikipedia:Raymond_Lenox. All of its AfDs can be found at Wikipedia:Special:PrefixIndex/Wikipedia:Articles_for_deletion/Raymond_Lenox. Template:Hoax

Raymond Lenox (born September 24, 1938 – April 29, 1987) was a political journalist living in the 1900s and was one of America’s most well known writers. Living from 1938-1987, Lenox lived in Seattle, Washington and immigrated from France. He is best known for some of his short stories like the one below, and had a love for making unusual plot lines. He is also a mathematician, and had a master’s degree from Harvard University in journalism. From now on, Raymond Lenox’s legacy lives on in not only his writing, but in his personality and his positive attitude. A Blank Canvas is one of his most well known stories and his last one before he died on April 29, 1987.

Early life

Lenox was born on September 24, 1938 in Paris, France, and graduated from the University of Harvard after he immigrated from his homeland. He first started in political writing, and also liked mathematics, but neither of those subjects were subjects of his interest. So, Lenox moved to Seattle, Washington to start a writing career which eventually became successful which lead to his first book, A Blank Canvas.

A Blank Canvas

The following story is the first edition of A Blank Canvas, and was the original one.

"I looked at the picture. It stared back at me. I felt a chill down my spine. I thought about that moment: walking through the empty halls of the Museum of Metropolitan Art. I walk through the halls and look at each painting without really caring, but one picture stands out to me. I look at it gingerly. I think about it. I inspect it closely, and notice that it has no date, no name, and no paint on it. “It’s a special painting.” says a guard near the front doors of the exhibit. “Whatever you think about will show up on that blank canvas.” I thought about life, and heaven, but nothing comes up. “You have to think harder.” I think even harder. An extremely gruesome picture pops up on the canvas, and I get startled. “I’m not thinking about any of what is on this canvas!” I say with a hint of annoyance. “I’m not sure what happened, young lad.” he says.

“Well whatever happened, you got to get this tested out for people that aren’t me.” He quickly ran away to tell the manager of the art exhibit, but he quickly ran back and told me “I couldn’t find him anywhere sir!”

“Well when you see him, report him to me.”

“Yes sir!’ he said. He quickly scampered and looked for the manager. I took a second glance at the peculiar painting. I noticed a flaw and touched it to see if it was just dust, and fell into the painting. I saw a spiral of darkness in which my thoughts and emotions were jumbled into a giant pile on an emotional rollercoaster, and I didn’t feel a thing. The next thing I noticed was a blank canvas. A white piece of paper, on a desk in the middle of a bedroom with a oil lamp illuminating the room. I walk towards the table not knowing what will happen, and dip my feather in ink. “Help me, I am trapped.”, I write, and a pigeon comes to the windowsill that is halfway opened. The paper is strapped to the pigeon’s talon, and it flies away. I pick up a newspaper that reads “Mysterious Painting in Metropolitan Museum of Art Isn’t Empty Anymore”. I think about it for a minute.

I think about how I fell into the painting, but doubt that my existence has been transformed to become the physical object that is the painting. I am the painting. I walk towards a door and open it, and all I see is white. “That’s where I came from…” I think with a hint of confidence. I walk towards the door, and notice that the portal is still there. I run for it, but it quickly disappears. I wait. And wait. It won’t come back. I walk back into the house, and sit down. I live there for about 3 years before I hear a ding outside. I rush outside and the portal is open. I run towards the portal, and manage to get in the portal. All of a sudden, a jolt of electricity electrifies my spine, and I feel confused. I hop out of the painting not knowing where I am, and the police has me surrounded.

“I insist to know where the manager of the Met is.”

“What’s the Met?” I ask and gaze into the officer’s eyes.

“Oh you bastard, you’re in the Met.” I still look confused. “Look, what we need to know is where the manager is so we could get you to a safe place.” I look around for the word manager on any of their navy blue name tags. However, I find nothing. “Hello?” the officer says as I am about to get distracted by the hypnotizing effect that the name tags had on my conscious mind. “I got amnesia.” I said, realizing that that was the only thing that I could remember at the time. “You got what?” the officer asked.

“Amnesia.”

“Oh, sorry sir.”

“Wait, I’m just getting information about the manager’s whereabouts. He’s looking at a map of the Met.”

“It turns out that he’s right in this exact room.” I look very confused.

“Sir.” he says staring in my eyes.

“I’m afraid that the manager is right under your very feet.” I look under my feet. “Boys, start digging!” the officer cries out. They bring shovels and break the tiles and start digging under the dirt that was once under the tiles. “I’m afraid that you’ve found nothing sir.” I say with contempt. “Wait.” the officer says. “I’m afraid that he wasn’t under you.” He looks at me with a lot of focus. “Sir.” he says.

“Yes?” I say.

“I think that you are the manager.”

“Oh.”

A Blank Canvas was one of Lenox's most influential pieces of literature, and discussed a very interesting plot and a plot twist.

Plot

A man is walking in the halls of the Metropolitan Museum of Art and notices a blank painting with no paint on it. A guard tells him that whatever you think appears on that canvas. He looks at the canvas, but nothing but a gruesome picture pops up on the canvas. He gets mad at the guard, and the man insists that the guard tell his manager about it. The guard quickly runs off, but comes back not knowing where the manager is. He tells the guard to keep looking for the manager, which he does. He notices a flaw in the painting, but accidentally falls in the painting, causing him to forget all that he has remembered in the past 30 minutes. He ends up in a blank canvas, and sees a house to seek refuge. He writes a letter to the outside world that gets sent by pigeon, and manages to stay alive for 3 more years. After the 3 years, he notices the portal opens up, and manages to get into it, causing amnesia to not remember everything from not only the past 30 minutes, but the past 14 years. He gets out of the blank canvas, realizing that he had amnesia while in the process coming through the canvas, and an officer tells the man to tell him where the manager is. The man doesn't know, but the officer realizes that the manager is in the same room that they are currently in. They try to dig under the man, but notice that the man is the manager but forgot because of the amnesia during the teleportation from the canvas to the Metropolitan Museum of Art.

Late career

After A Blank Canvas, Lenox didn't really write any other pieces of literature, and mostly spent his leisure time going to conferences about literature so he could know more about the individual subject. However, in March 1978, he is diagnosed with Pneumonia.

Death

Lenox spent his last months of his life saying goodbye to loved ones, and saying prayers in his hospital bed. He died on April 29, 1978 and his legacy still shines today.