Thick chunky petals. The great feeling of a bold thick stroke. It’s mark making without apologizing. The contrast against the delicateness of the arrangement and the whisper thin petals.

The hostas called out to me. They craved something. They were one hundred percent passable. Something pushed me to paint bolder. Do something that could very possibly destroy something so close to done. I wanted to make a mark. 

As I pushed my brush hard against the canvas to create a wide unforgiving stroke, I felt something. It was like a release. My heart sunk like it was settling into my very self. Like how when you sit at the edge of the ocean, you sink deeper into the sand. The ocean trying to claim you as part of it. My heart sank in the very best way. Completely satisfied.

Was it the simplicity in the stroke? Defining the curve of the leaf in its most simple form. Unapologetic. Free with a hint of wildness.