Lately, I’ve been painting. Not because I decided I needed to become more productive with my hobbies. Not because I set myself a challenge to complete a certain number of paintings. And certainly not because every painting needs to become something useful. I’ve simply been reaching for my watercolors more often. Somewhere along the way, I realized that painting has become a quiet record of how I’ve been feeling. I don’t always sit down knowing what I want to paint. Sometimes I don’t even know what I’m feeling. I just know that I want paper, water and a brush in my hand. And apparently, my emotions know what to do from there. Sometimes, I Just Want to Play One day, I painted strawberries. There wasn’t some grand artistic concept behind them. I put blobs of paint onto the paper and let the blobs decide what kind of strawberries they wanted to become. Some were plump. Some were wonky. Some looked like they had absolutely no intention of conforming to proper strawberry geometry. ...
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