I begin a new painting. Unsure of what I want it to be. No inspiration photo to guide me this time. Simply tubes of paint and blank canvas.

I brush paint onto canvas with no plan. Waiting to see what will emerge.

One layer on, I step away allowing it to dry. I’ve learned to be patient with this layer. Usually bland and flat. I’ve trained myself not to judge the finished piece by this first layer.

So I continue. Adding new colors. Still no mental image of what it will be. I wait. Brushing colors. Wondering what will emerge. Content with the unknowing.

Another layer. Adding new colors. Instinct dictating where to blend each new color more than conscious thought. And then another layer.

My art teacher says she sees how I’ve grown with my art. How some aspects come more instinctively now. How much paint I load on my brush. Balancing colors. All aspects I never gave conscious thought, but somehow have now become second nature.

Something about this painting, though. Something so different from the pieces I have painted prior. Every painting before imitations of artists whose work I admire. Experimenting. Searching for my own voice with paint and brush. But this one. This one is my own.

I add another layer waiting to see what will emerge. Wondering if the final image will reveal itself with this layer.

I catch my breath. Calming the excitement bubbling up in my soul.

In colors blended, layered and brushed across canvas I see my voice.

What gifts are you grateful for this week?

Continuing to count the gifts:
933. For a bird singing in the rain. (4.16.12)
934. For a full night of sleep. (4.17.12)
935. For sun breaking through the clouds. (4.18.12)
936. For a clean house. (4.18.12)
937. For painting an original painting that I’m thrilled with. (4.20.12)
938. For sunshine after the rain. (4.20 12)
939. For a fun afternoon with Chris. (4.21.12)
940. For finding a new place to photograph. (4.21.12)

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