Paper, Pen, Brush, and Paint

The paint. Liquid. The pen has absorbed a lot of it. Apparently too much. I write a word, beautiful and even, and on the last letter – Splash! My word is swimming in the puddle.

The paper.

The stroke was perfect. For a second. Then the ground behaves like blotting paper. It was more open than I thought. The line is no longer clean.

The pen.

I want to make round letters from round arm movements. I breathe in and start. The pen resists my momentum. It stops on the paper far too early, and I cannot finish my letter.

The brush.

A hair has come loose from the brush. Now it lies in the middle of the painted area. If I try to remove it with my finger, I destroy the calm of the even application of paint, which will soon be completely dry.

The paper.

I was immersed in drawing. For an angled brushstroke, I rested my elbow on the work surface. And there it happened: The paper got an incurable crease at the edge.

The paint again.

Fully engaged, I continued drawing. Meanwhile, I didn’t notice that my hand was brushing over the lines I had just drawn. The paint landed where it didn’t belong.

Pen, brush, paper, paint… so innocent.