Saddled with a fractured right arm, my artistic choices diminished to creative ways to turn on the television remote, one fingered lower-case typing, and artful arrangements of pillows. Amidst cranky fussing and a hefty dose of restlessness, a sideways idea barrelled in out of left field. Why not paint?
I thought about how left-handed painting would necessitate broad, flat brush strokes. Certainly this would encourage a bolder approach. Most importantly I must not worry about results. I could always save the canvas with a wash of gesso if I failed.
Standing at the easel, The brush came to life like the broom of the Sorcerer’s Apprentice. I found that my body moved to a rythm and I forgot about time, captured in the moment. As the project proceeded, I discovered that I could raise my right arm enough to add more delicate applications of paint by supporting my elbow.
Every day my right arm could stretch closer, and by turning the canvas, I could reach the flowers closest to the edge. By the time the painting was complete, My right arm stretch was impressive; physio-therapy with a brush.
My arm is healed now. There is much stretching and strengthening ahead, But what I will nurture is this dancing left hand. It showed me how to loosen up, and despite the arm ouch, have some fun!
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