Today, I had a lovely conversation with Mary, my sister-in-law who is a skilled oil painter. I’m honestly shy talking about my painting endeavors with most people but she was so nice and inviting to chat with, and encouraging too.
And she put something I’ve been unable to express in words much better than I could: “I’m a much nicer person to be around when I paint,” she said.
My mom used to swim laps in a pool to “swim the meanness” out of herself, and some people work out, do yoga, or whatever. I know when I can take a “purposeful” walk, it is pleasurable and relaxing.
I find when I am able to go into my studio or to painting classes, I feel this sort of release, a physical sigh, and my whole body relaxes into the moment. I forget about worries that I can’t control, things that might or might not be coming down the pike, and just let go and create. There is something sensual and luxurious about controlling a paintbrush as it glides along the canvas or paper. As I mentioned, I write, and can get lost in typing onto a screen words that flow to the point I forget to eat. It is similar, but the dot dot dot of characters and words appearing on a computer screen do not compare to the pleasure of seeing a line of paint flow across paper or canvas support.
Today’s Lesson: Painting is good therapy.