The Man has been asking, Hopper has been asking, and I’ve been wanting to as well. We had all the supplies – a pack of stretched canvases, fat tubes of thick acrylic paints, golden bristled brushes. He has to push me at times; too often I wait for ‘the right time’ and then things just never happen. Today, he pushed me, and I let him.
We taped paper to the table, we pulled out paper plates for mixing, cups for washing, and napkins for drying. Mack was stripped to his underwear, Hopper dragged out the neon paint she bought with her own money, JuJu donned a blogger conference swag t-shirt for protecting her outfit and the Man pulled up a picture of a glacier in Iceland on his phone for his muse. Did I mention this is his second time sitting in front of a canvas?
And I let go.
I let go of wanting the Man to know he was setting himself up for failure by picking that scene to try to replicate.
I let go of Mack squeezing giant pools of paint onto his plate.
I let go of my frustration at having to get up and wash Mack’s saturated brushes over and over.
I let go of worrying about the mess.
I let go of ‘helping’ anyone else with my unsolicited advice.
I let go of being irritated at the Man for obsessing over straight lines on his own painting.
I let go of wanting to go rinse and refill murky jars of water.
I let go of Mack wanting MOAR paint.
I let go of my annoyance at the Man for not watching Mack while I was up from the table for the thousandth time.
I let go of my resentment that I was the only one popping up and down like a gopher.
I let go of the idea that I would sit without interruption for more than 30 seconds.
I let go of not knowing what I was going to paint, squeezed a bit of each color on my own plate and started dipping.
I let go of having a plan.
I let go of the outcome and just let my brush fly.