Consider The Brushes [on KS Friday]

As an artist, I have fondness for brushes. I’ve been known to disappear into an art store and lose significant amounts of time in the brush aisle. I rarely buy them – I am notoriously hard on my brushes and wait until they fall apart to replace them – but when I replace them I feel as if I just hit the lotto or found a buried treasure in the art store.

I cut my hair to make my first brush. It was mostly useless and left strands of my hair in the painting. It was the essential need for a brush that clued me in to my life path. I didn’t want it; I needed it.

Lately I found myself wandering through a strange and alien world: the Ulta store, followed by an eye-opening trip into Sephora. Despite the ubiquitous advertising, the fact that I live in this society, how is it possible that I had no idea of the nuance layers of soaps and cremes and removers and buffers and…brushes. Beautiful brushes. As Stephanie once famously exclaimed of me, “You are a man after all!”

Clueless.

I was, of course, fascinated by the brushes. Not just the brushes, but the need to have the right brush. Buffers and liners, fans and foundation and shadow brushes! I am a painter of people, I paint the image of faces, and was fascinated watching the painters of actual faces consider and choose their tools. The right brush. Blush, smooth, hard line.

I cannot count the number of times people have told me that they are not creative, that they do not have a creative bone in their bodies. Standing in the alien land, watching the painters carefully choose their brushes, I wondered how so much creative energy, so much enthusiasm for the right color, the right medium, the best brush, goes unrecognized.

This alien land was pulsing with imagination, desire for the right tool, and the drive to share and help and create. There was a generosity of spirit rarely found on the other side of the doors. Women helping women. Laughter and advice. I liked being in this strange land of strange brushes and kindness – even as an outsider. A stranger. I found a breath of fresh air (perfumed as it was) while following my guides through the brush aisle.

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read Kerri’s blog post about BRUSHES

grateful/as it is © 2004 kerri sherwood

Pick Up The Tool And Play [on DR Thursday]

Paint Box copy

If every life is a journey of self-discovery then it follows that every life-journey is supported with a unique series of challenges. The challenges reveal ourselves to ourselves [how’s that for an awkward use of language!]. Obstacles wake us up.

My challenges require a special set of tools. Master Miller sends photos of his young son, Dawson, painting. I love those photos because Dawson is free in his use of paint and brush. His exploration is pure pleasure. It is beautiful (seriously. It is Beautiful).

Last night I sat on the floor of my studio and played with the tools that support my unique series of challenges. I scraped paint with knives. I mushed around color with a fan brush. I was not free. My challenge is to circle back to what Dawson already knows. I think too much. I study too hard. I seek rather than simply experience.

What Dawson knows: I don’t have to look for it. What I seek is already here. I merely need to pick up the tool and get out of the way.  It’s a platitude for the aging but true nevertheless.

 

read Kerri’s blog post about MY PAINT BOX

 

windyHHwebsite box copy