Last night – after more than a month – I returned to painting class.
It wasn’t easy. My eye wasn’t backing me up when I tried blending paints. My hand didn’t cooperate when holding the brush. I couldn’t decide whether to sit or stand. Most importantly, I wasn’t too crazy about anything I painted last night.
By the end of class, I started to relax. I sat – comfortably. I loosened my grip on the brush. I stopped worrying about achieving just the right paint color.
Truth is, I’ll keep working on this painting and it will be finished after a few more classes. I’ll get it right. Eventually. And then I’ll move on to the next piece. It’s only paint, y’all.
After re-popping my painting cherry last night, I remembered why I paint in the first place: it’s good for me. It’s good for my artistic muscles. It’s good for my focus, my concentration. It’s good for my head. By the end of class, I didn’t want to leave the studio.
I’ve missed painting. I may not have even known it, but it’s true. I’m mighty glad to have remembered.