Gaining a New Perspective
Over the last few months, my wife has pushed me to do more art. It’s no exaggeration to say that I’ve been in a bit of a writing slump, but existential dread will do that to you. I always accompany her to the art store, but lately, she has encouraged me to pick up supplies and even some small project kits. I picked up one while on a trip back in December and have picked up three others since then. She also bought me a set of Chinese brushes and some ink for Christmas in an attempt to get me back into Chinese Brush Painting, which I have previously dabbled in. Unfortunately, all those kits had sat in my closet collecting dust until this past weekend.
We decided to declare an art night on Friday night as neither one wanted to settle into our usual habit, doomscrolling. Instead, we cleared off the dining room table and got out the art kits. Mine was a paint-by-number kit that vaguely reminded me of “The Great Wave Off Kanagawa” by Hokusai. You painted it on a piece of glass set over a reproduction of the painting while consulting the accompanying numbered chart to ensure you got the colors right. Now, I’m no stranger to artistic endeavors, but I’ve rarely painted. When I dabbled in Chinese brush painting, it was with brush pens. Most of my art has either been sketches and drawings or digital. When I’m painting, I’m way out of my element. But, to paint for the first time in over a decade on a piece of glass with less than reliable brushes? That wasn’t just out of my comfort zone; it was off my comfort planet.
As I painted, I slowly became more comfortable. Slowly, I came to appreciate the experience, which felt so foreign to me, like a distant memory calling out from the fog of time. Unlike digital art or sketching/drawing, painting is messy in a very literal sense. As you drag the brush across the surface, the paint will flow off of the bristles in random ways that you can’t always predict, at least in my amateur hands. But I came to appreciate that. It forced me to adapt and flow with the unpredictable nature of the paint. As I continued, I remembered techniques I had learned when I was younger. I adapted and grew more comfortable as I went, and in the end, I found the entire experience quite enjoyable.
I had forced myself to think and adapt in real-time by stepping outside my comfort zone. My brain, which admittedly gets tired of the same old routine, was forced to learn as I went. And, to my surprise, the painting did not turn out half bad for a rookie. The next day, I found myself calmer with a feeling of accomplishment, and, to my surprise, I found myself thinking about the plot of my work in progress in my head again. This week, I plan to set aside time to pick up where I left off.
It’s incredible that I had to step outside my comfort zone to get out of my rut, which stimulated my creativity and set me back on the right path. It shows that we all need to get out of our routines and our own heads sometimes to find our way. My wife has always been the painter in the past, but after my experience the other night, I’m sure this won’t be the last time I dabble with it. Turns out, it was just what I needed to get back on track.
– Ryan
