There is something incredibly therapeutic about stroking a Number 10 brush loaded with paint across a bare canvas. The brush glides smoothly over the seamless surface, depositing rich swatches of color. The rhythmic motion of the brush can induce an almost magical state of tranquility.
Painting forces me to live in the moment. I paint with no distractions. No TV, radio, or iPod–just me, my canvas, brushes, and paint. I am an anxious person by nature, but fear, doubt, and worry over everyday problems vanish as I focus my brushstrokes on color, temperature, and value. I completely lose myself in the process. Time seems to stand still, but in reality, time is passing unnoticed, and I am the one who is finally still.
My mind, eyes, hand, and heart all work together toward one common goal. Passion wells up inside me as I see the colors I had envisioned coming to life on my palette. Painting has become my escape, my therapy, my peace. My prescription for sanity is simple: Breathe. Paint. Repeat.