A Drug It is

Painting in oils is addictive.

It is like a drug. When I don’t paint, I miss it so much that I can’t stop thinking about how I could illustrate the objects that I see. And when I do, I can do it straight for hours without realising the pass of time. At night, sometimes, I even dream of the bristles making their prints on the white fabric.  

Why? The reason, I believe, is that the whole process of creation is a slow one. Unlike watercolour or acrylics, it requires more patience and processing. Most of the time, after I put down my brushes and come back after a few days, I would have a whole new perspective of how I should continue. It could be due to the long hours at a short distance before the canvas, encouraging a more microscopic view of the work, and after moving away and clearing the working memory, the macro elements come into play, and dah dah…, everything changes.

Painting is not just addictive, but it heals too. It is therapeutic. As the process requires intense concentration, many a times, unbeknownst to the creator, he slips into positive mindfulness. Lost in the world of the creations and clearing one’s mind off all troubles and unwelcome emotions, could induce the production of endorphins, inadvertently setting off a euphoric mood.

An addiction it is, albeit a good one.