After the monotony of the daily lunch making, I settled into my computer afraid to see what the assignments would be for today. Please not another day yesterday! I can't do it. Maybe Kelly Rae knew that she had to go easy on us after such an intense first lesson because by the grace of God... It was a positive and happy video. Gnawing in my mind was the voice leftover from yesterday playing over and over in my head.... Paint. Paint. Paint.
You see, I don't paint really. I don't put a brush to canvas and PAINT. I paint objects. I paint furniture and thread spools and old boards. I decoupage and stencil. I don't paint on canvas. So this crazy voice in my head was blasphemy, hog-wash. But I have always had this longing to just pick up the brush and DO IT. So... what do I do with this voice? The voice that is telling me to ignore the laundry and the dishes. The voice that is telling me that Candy Crunch Saga (my online game addiction/HUGE time waster) is out of the question today. I can't tell you why, what or how. But I yanked out one of the cheap canvases I had on hand. I bought them thinking I was going to "try it out" one day. I pulled out my box of 1/2 dried up acrylics. I was compelled to JUST FUCKING DO IT. (Don't mean to offend anyone with the Eff Bombs.) I was almost in a trance. Before I could think, I had the canvas covered in paint. I kinda remembered a tutorial that Kelly Rae had shared in a book. I was following what I remembered. My damn Gesso was all dried up. I never even opened it up. Never used it once. I had to improvise. I just had to DO IT.
I pulled out bits of scrap paper and just kept going, whispering to myself along the way to just trust in the process. I had to do this. It was almost like an out of body experience. I've never, EVER felt quite like this before.
Hour after hour. Layer after layer. Sanding. Painting. Ripping. Rubbing.
The words came easily, but have since changed.
Throughout the day I realized that every scrapbook class, each rubber stamped card I've made, all the sanding of furniture, it had all lead me to this moment. I had some skills that were making me brave enough to do this.
I learned today that a painting speaks to you before it's even finished. It guides you. It's layered. It's a process. It unfolds.
She appeared from the end of my paint brush. She stared back at me, happy and content. I did this. My hands started shaking and I was so emotional. I had to quit. I had to gather myself and settle.