Painting: The Power of Color and Texture
As I prepare for my upcoming surgery, I find myself reaching more often for a paintbrush than for my phone or to-do list. Painting has always offered me something that words can’t quite reach: a calm place to land, a sense of control, and a quiet power in every stroke of color. On the other hand, I am not entering many art shows. I don't need that pressure right now.
In these uncertain days, I’ve become more aware of how much emotion color can carry. Cool blues feel like breath—slow, steady, peaceful. Deep reds pulse with energy. Warm golds and greens remind me that growth continues, even beneath the surface. When I choose colors lately, I’m not just decorating a canvas—I’m speaking to myself in a language I trust.
And then, let's not forget texture. Some days I crave smooth, blended washes that soothe the eye and the mind. Other days, I pile on thick impasto layers, letting the brush drag or the palette knife scrape. The tactile process reminds me that healing is not always tidy. It’s layered. Messy. Built over time. But it does progress.
Painting doesn’t demand perfection. It teaches me to sit still with what’s happening in my body and in my thoughts—without judgment. It reminds me that beauty doesn’t only come from control, but from vulnerability, experimentation, and sometimes even chaos.
As surgery day approaches, I plan to keep painting—not as a distraction, but as a companion. In every color and texture, there’s a thread of resilience. And right now, I’ll take all the strength I can get—especially the kind I make myself.
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