"A while ago I bought an easel that wasn’t exactly great quality, annoyingly. As soon as I put a canvas on top and tried to paint the legs would start slipping and I would constantly have to readjust it (very infuriating).

So to solve this issue I put a pair of my old blue shoes at the bottom which stabilized it and stopped it from slipping …but then… I suddenly thought…“oh shit… it looks as if my easel is going to make a run for it.”

“What if my easel flees with my artwork and my blue shoes? What if it runs in fear of me, or perhaps more understandably, in fear of art?” - for I’ve realized that art is truly a terrifying thing:

The brush, that is the artist’s weapon, is instrumental in conjuring novel realities and thusly deriving any profound truths and questions to all persons who may gaze upon art and may susceptibly be horrified by what they discover.

And the pigmented palette, that is the artist’s shield, is the defender of the creator’s mind. The misplacement of the sharpest brush strokes, of light and shadow on canvas, are all criticisms that quake and emasculate the spirit of the painter. The colours on this shield give reassurance that an added value on the developing artwork may make amends and may alas give peace and protection to the painter’s restless mind.

Together these two instruments aid the manifestation of creativity on canvas.

Now, I suppose, it is quite comprehensible for my easel to fret and despair. For it is a heavy burden and grave responsibility for my easel, or any easel for that matter, to carry the painter’s emerging creation and their precise desires into being.

Regardless, I imagine my easel as a coward for running away, for hoisting the white flag, surrendering, and not confronting me…

No matter.

I shall wear my armor, put on my helmet, flex my muscular buff arms and hunt thy easel down. I will be victorious and art shall always prevail."

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anja.h.art