I watched in admiration as he dipped his paintbrush into the plate of paint I poured for him just a few minutes earlier. There was no hesitation on his part. No worry about where the brush stroked the stark white paper. No second guessing about whether the yellow paint should touch the green and no doubt about the size of the green circle that dominated the page.
When he was finished with his masterpiece, a mere 10 minutes after he first started, he proudly held it up for me to admire. It was refrigerator worthy.
What I would give to be so self-assured about my art. When and how do we strip ourselves of our creativity?
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