I’ve been opening up paints for over 25 years and what I hadn’t considered until recently is that they, in fact, have also been opening me. Testing my skill, my endurance, my ability to accept flaws: in my painting and in myself as a human.
After all this time, there is a comfort in the simple exercise of twisting off the paint cap. There’s a will, an intent to continue. Yet I still remember how unfamiliar and tentative I felt the first time I ever opened a tube of paint. I had no idea the power it would have over me. How it would cause a reaction in me. How the tube of paint once on the canvas would test me—what would I do with that Cobalt Bue? How does my colour make you feel? it would silently ask. And that challenge the paint offers me has not changed. For example, I will always have an emotional reaction to the paint colours I’ve mixed and my brush strokes that have brought it to life on the canvas. If I fail to have a reaction, then I might as well give it up, in my opinion.
Case in point, I hadn’t touched oil paints in well over a decade but just last month I faced my past. Before me were a series of my unfinished oil paintings from the ’00 decade that I had taken out of storage. And to complete these relics, I needed to dust off my box of oil paints. First task? Taking inventory: look at this tube of Raw Umber, Ultramarine Blue—old friends!
My fingertips of a younger and more eager self were invisibly imprinted on these tubes of paint. But attempting to open decades-old tubes I first had to twist off my inhibitions. I had to allow the tubes of paints to open me.
Was I worthy of these beauties that lie on my table, scrunched, and squeezed within an inch of their lives, but still giving. Still asking me “what will you do with me?” So what I did with them was proceed to complete the paintings, making changes and refamiliarizing myself with the unique properties of oil paints. Once I reached a stage of ‘satisfactory for now’, I stood back and analyzed the canvas. I saw flaws aplenty; yet I had to stop. I had to walk away not knowing if they were a success. Only time will tell that story.
Because I’ve been painting for over 25 years though, opening a tube of paint whether it be oil or acrylic, is now simply a necessity, a ritual. It’s even urgent on occasion. It has to be done. I must hold a paintbrush slathered in Cadmium Yellow Light mixed with Cadmium Medium Red. The voice of the paint asking me what I’m going to do has quieted. Instead, I open my mind to what I’m going to do and as powerful as Cobalt Blue may be, it no longer intimidates.
I cannot imagine my world without paint.
What once was a question of whether I was worthy of the paint no longer exists. The paint belongs to me. It is a part of me.
Despite all those paintings I painted with love for family and friends, some were discarded as though they were worthless. This has also taught me an important lesson–the value of my time and creative gift. It has reminded me that my creations are for my own joy. That I must, as all creatives must, be cautious about freely sharing my/our creative gifts.
So, opening a tube of paint now is as natural to me as drinking a glass of water. And what the paint has taught me is to open up, to find joy, to play, and most importantly to accept my imperfections on and off the canvas.
What has your creative practice opened in you?
Liked this post? Try My Art Journey and the Lessons I’ve Learned part I and My Art Journey and the Lessons I’ve Learned Part II
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Mabel Kwong
June 6, 2026 at 11:19 pmLovely to read about how you used to paint and came back to it recently. It sounded like a trip down memory lane, seeing your unfinished paintings and paints. The choice to take a step and take action is already something profound – and good on you for running with painting once again. You raise something there at the end – on the time we give to creativity. I think about that all the time, my time in writing be it blogging or elsewhere. Not everyone will read what I write and put out there in the world, but then there will be others who read it and might not think about it again. It reminds me that I write out of my love for writing. Then again, I also tend to want to share my writing intentionally and where it calls.
I read your most recent post, your poem for your mother, Lisa. It is a lovely, heartfelt tribute to her, and hope you are navigating this time okay. Wishing you much strength and love during this period. Take care ❤️
lisa
June 7, 2026 at 4:41 pmThank you, Mabel! Nice to see you here. I think your writing will be your legacy. As a writer it’s not always known who or when your words positively impact someone. Definitely a love of writing has to be the underlying reason for it 😀 Your writing always shines and love that you tackle tough topics.
Thank you for your condolences, Mabel. I’m happy you had a chance to read the poem. It’s a big loss and a time of lots of emotions and memories. No surprise that a poem would be my choice of personal expression of that loss. <3
I look forward to catching up at your blog!
Mabel Kwong
June 9, 2026 at 5:28 amMany thanks for your kind words, Lisa. I hope my words have an impact be it in a small way or another. Writing can be hard, as you might know a writer. Keep sharing your poetry and writing as always. There’s a realness to your writing – a realness that you know you can’t run away from, and I think many of us can relate with. Much love to you and again, do take care during this time 💕
Latmosphérique
March 23, 2026 at 9:29 amInteresting thoughts Lisa! I really appreciate you sharing them with us. Our hobbies have a way to talk to us, to deliver their messages.
Whether it’s been writing, photography or mix media, I learnt to enjoy, as you say, the moment of creation, finding joy in the process and somehow a place where I feel myself.
lisa
March 24, 2026 at 7:19 pmHi Marie, Yes, our hobbies talk to us and deliver messages we may need to hear. Perfection is the thing to let go. I love that you find joy in your creative process. It’s enriching to feel that.
Jeff
March 23, 2026 at 5:38 amI have always admired those who can paint. I have always done photography (40 years ago semi-professionally) and lately been playing around with woodworking. But research and writing is my first love.
lisa
March 23, 2026 at 9:14 amAnd I admire photographers. It takes a special knack to capture people and things. Research and writing are compatible to your sermons and your book(s) you will eventually publish 🙂 It’s great to have more than one creative pursuit because then you can take a break from one and keep busy with the other.
La Contessa
March 21, 2026 at 9:30 amThis was a very interesting post. I loved it. I read it the other day and I forgot to comment you were asking what of my creative endeavors opened up for me. That would only be the blog and I have made some lovely friends like you who I’ve never met. Keep on painting it suits you.
Xxx
lisa
March 21, 2026 at 4:15 pmhello, La Contessa. Thanks for stopping over and sharing your thoughts. Your blog is certainly creative and I can see how it has opened you to new people, things and places. xo