The Places I've Been

I dip the tip of my round brush into a small mountain of acrylic blue cyan. One globule of blue hangs on to the hairs of the brush. For a moment, I am amazed at the little drop of sky I can see in the reflections cast from the wet surface of the paint. I guide the blue onto the gessoed canvas. The acrylic paint dances across the textured valley of cotton until no more white can be seen.

With the colors of Hawaiian Hibiscus flowers, catapillar eyes, and blacks as rich as the eyes of a Syrian Hamster, I paint without stopping. I hear the clock ticking on the wall behind me, but the hands fade to oblivion as I enter a tunnel to a far away place. I never know where I'll end up.

Sometimes, I find myself in strange lands with stranger creatures who paint themselves into my canvases. Other times, I find myself licking my dry lips, having forgotten to sip water for many hours. I'll discover when I lift my head and stretch my arms that the sun, once bursting through the panes of glass and onto my easel like warm hands, has long left the sky. In it's place, a sliver of silver white moon is peaking through the bay window of the studio, teasing me with winking stars far off.

It is at times like these that I rinse my brush, sit back, and wonder. Surely, I have travelled somewhere to not realize such things.

Bark at you later,
PJ the dog blogging dog :-P