Brushing aside the daily distractions

When I can find the time and when I feel the urge take me over, I’ll set up a canvas on my easel, gather my paints, usually acrylic, put down some material to prevent spillage and prepare to create a piece of art that comes as near as possible to the image or feelings I wish to portray.

There is something therapeutic about assigning time and thought to a hobby or activity that releases us from the anxieties, thoughts and distractions of modern life. It allows us to forget the pressures that usually take up much of our time and lets us float away in a type of meditation or to another consciousness. Whether this is creating a piece of art (anything from crafts to cartoons), exercising, running, reading or playing a musical instrument, it all brings us to the same space in our minds, where we escape, albeit briefly, from ourselves.

Painting encourages a freedom of thought, beginning with the image that is chosen by us. Whether it’s a landscape of a body of water with small boats lapping on the surface, or of fields with trees blowing in a gentle breeze, or the intricate lines of an interesting face, these ideas come to us without any of the constraints that usually envelope other activities. We’re bound by the limitations of our bodies when exercising, pushing ourselves to the exigencies of our beating hearts; playing an instrument may tie us to the tiny notes on a sheet of music, but the creative content of our minds is endless, giving us licence to smash open the syntaxes that have been moulded in our brains after a lifetime of routine, to open up new channels of thought and unique ways to see the world.

At least that’s the theory that is put into practice when I reach for the brush. My walls at home are a collage of various blues and greens, defining the relationship I’ve had with various forms of water since I began to paint. I can’t get enough. The ripples of a lake teased by the wind, the edge of a beach caressed by loving waves, the froth and fury of a raging ocean against the rocks of the coast, all underneath the brooding greyness that so embodies the Irish sky, makes for an endless coterie of canvas creations.

Sigmund Freud would have a few things to say about this, no doubt, but what matters to me is the attention to detail that brings a painter or artist closer to their subject and hence, closer to nature. I suppose this is my ultimate goal, nothing at all to do with my childhood wish to be a whale. The hope is to attempt to justify the wonders of nature through the small square of white space afforded to the painter — a challenge that can be called unreachable, but nevertheless, endeavoured.

My next project will be a landscape based on the coastline I’ve visited many times on the coast of Donegal. It is a magical place of rugged beauty; untouched and serene. The deep, dark greens and turquoise set against the ever-changing grey sky that hints at doom, yet gives light and life to all in its embrace — even writing the words sends feelings of excitement up my spine. After examining the scene and deciding how to represent it on the canvas, the question of brush strokes and how to arrange the colours is another task to approach. But most of the time, the painting will continue without a conscious plan. Intuition will take over and the painting will become something different, unique and a part of me.

Christina Curran is a journalist currently studying a Masters in International Relations at Queen’s University, Belfast.