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!
Tagsaction active voice art blogging books direct ferry festival flicker groups Hemingway hitchhiker imagery Internet laughter memories mentor pacing painting pottery process publishing raven readers revival rhythm scenes self publishing September sharing short stories storytelling support The Solstice Conspiracy time travel tip tips uplifting verbs wriring writing