I recently started painting again.
It had been a long time since I'd picked up the brush and I was itching to reconnect again. For me, painting is therapeutic in a way that other things are not. It allows for total escape. The left side of my brain takes a rest, while the right side takes over and breaks the world into shapes and colors. I am shutoff and oblivious to my surroundings. My mind is quiet. Everything is quiet. And hours later I resurface again, look at my work critically (sometimes too critically), wash brushes, and return to regular life. It is a great release.
These hours are blissfully quiet, ones I have very much missed. In early January, with my dear friend Megan's birthday approaching, I decided to finally fulfill her request of receiving a painting and set about painting her son Henry. It's not a perfect likeness of him, but I am satisfied with the finished result. I hope she enjoys. I worked from a photograph and really enjoyed seeing little bits of him revealed each day.
Working on this project was a good reminder that there is always time for the things I truly enjoy. It is only a matter of making time. I don't need the perfect studio with the perfect light. Only a table, some music, some hours. Deadlines are also good. I should have set a more rigorous one with this painting.
I have been contemplating a portrait series of my family and maybe this piece will be the kick I need to get moving again.