Over the last few weeks I have been recovering from a major surgery that has kept me in bed a lot. Needless-to-say, it has been very challenging to even hold a paint brush, much less paint.
Neuropathy in my hands and feet cause my fingers to ache, the joints to swell as a result of lupus flares, and the cold weather that we have been experiencing has been really difficult to handle.
A few weeks ago I had an art show. Since then I managed to paint a little...just one day actually. My paintbrushes, I am ashamed to say have been sitting in soapy water since then. I have looked at them several times and told myself that I really need to take care of them before they are destroyed. Today I finally broke down and washed and cleaned those brushes. They are fine, but it got me thinking about just how little respect is given to the humble paintbrush that provides so much beauty for us.
Not too much emphasis is placed on the importance of the paintbrush that shapes and forms each stroke of the paintings that I create. I actually took the time to search out each one, spending some decent money on them because I wanted them to last a while. I did not want to skimp and end up with brushes that frayed, leaving bristles that become part of the paintings.
Each one of these brushes have created magical work for me. Each brush has brought my thoughts, adventures, experiences into reality.
Let me not forget their significance once again!
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