Paint and possibilities

Carmen convinced me to stop by that art supply store near campus yesterday, insisting I needed a “creative outlet” beyond color-coding my anatomy notes. Three hours later I’m sitting on my yoga mat with a beginner’s watercolor set, wondering what possessed me to think I could paint anything besides stick figures.

Paint and possibilities

The YouTube tutorial made it look so simple. “Just let the water flow naturally,” the instructor said in her soothing voice. Turns out my water has commitment issues and my paintbrush has the fine motor control of a toddler. But there’s something weirdly meditative about watching colors blend into each other, even when they’re blending into muddy brown instead of the sunset I was attempting.

Two failed landscapes and one accidental abstract later, I actually produced something that doesn’t look like it belongs in the trash.

The masterpiece revealed

Jake walked in during my victory examination and immediately declared it “fridge-worthy.” I’m not sure if that’s a compliment or commentary on our refrigerator’s artistic standards, but I’ll take it.

Turns out stepping outside your comfort zone doesn’t require skydiving or exotic travel. Sometimes it’s just sitting on your living room floor with paint under your fingernails, discovering that terrible art still counts as art.