By Teresa Smith.

I stand in front of a blank canvas, squeeze out paint, plunge brush into colorful elixir, put brush on surface and go. I just go. I don’t ponder, I don’t wait for inspiration, I don’t deliberate or commiserate. I just pick up a brush and see what happens. “Surprise me,” I say to that part of my being that has a clue. I am going to sit here, distract myself and let that wisely informed, confident, fearless, audacious, gutsy, foolhardy, part of me roar forth with a new creation. This surprises me every single day.

I hear artists complain they can’t find their muse. Like the dishes, the lawn, housecleaning, errands, and all the things get in the way. Like living life then plopping the art in at the end. Living life first so art-making can happen later when the timing is better.

Something happened to me a number of years ago that changed everything. The day I realized I paint so I can live. I paint first. No amount of good news or bad news, failure, or success, freaking out, or sorrow, can keep me from my studio. Regardless of the challenges, heartache, joy, or worry. No matter in sickness or health. The art happens first. And then it registers; magic is happening. Right here right now. Answers come, problems solve, healing occurs. Art is a salve that soothes and nourishes all day every day.

Creations occur while listening for quiet nudging’s. Grasp an idea, inspiration, or a thought as it quietly floats by. Clutch it. But not too hard. Ponder it. Sit with the fledgling of a concept. Say it out loud. Walk in the woods and nurture the little quiet nugget of an idea until it takes form.

Show up in the studio the next day with the nugget of insight. The idea that is longing to take form. Put brush in elixir of color and go. Get out of my mind and go. I am in awe of each mystical creation as it comes to life. Pure wonderment of this magical life.