blank pagepublished: 2011-10-10
My son wanted to paint something, so I put a piece of paper on the table, squirted some blotches of paint onto a plate. My son changed his mind and played with something else instead. This blank page and paint just sat there on the table for a while. Somehow, it felt wrong to throw perfectly useable paint away. By the end of the day I thought: why not paint something myself?
But why? And what for?
I picked up the paint-brush and it felt really strange. Next came the question what on earth I was going to paint? I felt embarrassed too, as if someone was watching me. I told myself to get over it and made myself think harder about what to paint. There was a wooden box on the table with a bird engraved on it. I dipped the brush into the blue paint and carefully placed a few strokes. Now I was painting a bird on paper. It wasn’t at all like the one on the box. This was a different bird, my bird, and I didn’t care whether it was good or bad. What mattered was: first there had been a blank page, now there was a bird.