If I Was A Paint Brush

So, recently I was given a journal prompt, from an artist group I follow.

The prompt was: “Write a story from the paint brushes point of view.”

So, here is my attempt to become an inanimate object or would it be more like the inanimate object becoming human, kind of like the characters in Beauty and the Breast?

Well either way here I go. 🙂

As an artist the paint brush is an extension of my body as I lay down the layers of color on the canvas, or whatever might have caught my fancy, that needs a little facelift.

There are so many brushes, all with their own job and purpose to make the artist look even better on the canvas.

I am going to write a little story, from a newly bought paint brushes’, point of view.

I am now the paint brush – so there is no confusion.

Wow, I was picked to go home by this lady that combed through all my friends and checked the bristles and mine was the one she wanted. I wonder what is in store for me, I am excited to find my purpose and start a new adventure.

If I am honest, I am a little nervous too, will she take care of me, will I last a long time? There have been rumors of terrible things happening to other brushes, getting clogged with dry paint or put away upside down, like who wants to sit on their head in a jar or worse a jar full of water for days on end!?!

She is being so gentle with me as we walk through the store as she picks out paint and a big white canvas. I think this is a good sign.

Yikes, we are all getting put into a bag, dang it is dark in here, this is defiantly not what I expected!

Out of the bag I come. Wait, this is better, what a sunny room, no more of those fake bright lights and look there are more brushes, and they all look so healthy and happy, maybe it is going to be okay. I am such a worrier.

She even picked the cutest pink coffee mug to tuck me in. I hope she comes back soon. I am so new to all of this.

Just me in my pink coffee cup, surrounded by my new friends.

Here she comes, and she is humming as she gets out the white canvas and tubes of paint from the bag. Humming is a good sign, I think.

Oh wait, no, eeekkk, now she is filling a glass full of water, don’t stick me in there, try to stay calm, it will be okay.

Refocus, look at those beautiful puddles of blues, greens, and yellows she is putting on her palette. I wonder what she is going to do with them.

I love the music she chose to play on her old radio, it is so soothing and peaceful. I feel my nerves calming down, deep breath, enjoy the music.

She picked me out of the pink coffee cup, out of all her brushes, she picked me, this is so exciting!

Oh, whoa, lady, why are you sticking me headfirst in that glass of water? Oh whew, only for a second and it was actually nice and cool. That was okay.

Oh gosh, now headfirst into the puddle of paint, really, it is all over my pretty bristles….oh wait, I like moving my bristles over the white canvas to the rhythm of the music.

This is fun and look and am leaving behind the most beautiful trail of blue. Her hand is so warm and soft, and I feel like I am part of her. Like we have become one with the music, paint and canvas.

Oh, into the paint I go again, a new color, blending with the blue, wow, now isn’t that pretty. I wonder where this is leading….. I could do this all day.

Into the water for another dunk and swish, that wasn’t as scary this time. I am all clean, this is fun!

We have made good progress on that white canvas. It is so full of color and texture, I think this is my purpose, to be part of this lady, to help her make the canvas beautiful. This is a good purpose.

Hanging out with the painting the nice lady and I started to create.

Are we done? Off to the sink I go, and I am getting a good bristle wash with some soap and water, and she is gently smoothing my bristles and tucking me back in the pink coffee cup. I have a good view of the canvas from here and can admire what we created today. We make a good team.

I love the sunny room, my pink cup and all the other fun brushes I have made friends with. This is a good home.

I wonder what new adventures tomorrow will bring? Will we add more paint on the canvas, start something new, or will she pick one of my friends to help her. I don’t mind sharing her with my friends.

The room is getting darker, and she turned on some shiny twinkle lights around the window. I am getting a little sleepy, she must be too, I caught her yawning as she turned off the music on her old radio.

I do feel a little taller and shinier now, looking at what we both created together. This was a good day.