I wanted to paint

Today I wanted to paint. It was a rainy day, so I was inside the house. I wanted to paint, but was feeling sort of uninspired. Here’s how I got over it: I put a canvas on the easel, and opened some paint. Even if I’m not inspired, I can apply paint. 

I reminded myself that I could paint over anything I didn’t like.  There was no risk. 

I started with black, and made marks with paint. Without cleaning my brush, I switched to yellow.  After a little while, I added blue to that green.  As that began to dry, I mixed some light aqua, and then a little plum. 


I went and did something else for a while, but now I was feeling inspired.

The act of painting inspires me to paint.

When those cool colors had dried, I came back with red, then orange, then yellow. 

Cobalt and white rested on the surface, adding dimension, receding all the way back to that black that was still peeking through in places. 


Tomorrow I will look with fresh eyes and see what is there. I will be more detached, looking without a paintbrush in my hand. I think the painting will tell me what it needs.

I can’t trust my feelings. I didn’t think I had a painting in me today. Just colors lined up in my arm, waiting for their chance to slip through my fingers and out the end of the brush. 

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