The Magic Wand Called a Paintbrush - An Essay on Tools and Stationery

When was the last time you held a paintbrush?
The art room in elementary school, the murky water in a bucket. Brushes from the corners of such distant memories are actually continuing to evolve even now.

If you have given up, thinking "I have no artistic sense," it may not be because of your talent, but because of your choice of brush.
With just one tool, the movement of water changes. Simply knowing that pleasure might make the scenery of your daily life more vivid.

When you stare at the tool called a paintbrush, you realize that a "wildness" is hidden within it.
Our ancestors, who once painted murals in caves, bundled the hair of nearby beasts to carve out their own stories.
Thousands of years later, even with the advent of high-tech synthetic fibers, we still cannot stop seeking the hair of horses, weasels, and pigs.

The history of the brush is a little cruel, and even more passionate.
When Vermeer placed a beautiful blue on his canvas, what he had in his hand was a "fragment of life" that someone had carefully selected and bundled.
The 100-yen nylon brush that we hold today also carries that lineage.

Brushes each have their own unique "ecology."

For example, the round brush loved in watercolor painting. When they drink water, they puff up their bellies and sharpen only the tip. Their appearance, as if they are bowing, is like a shape-shifting magician.

On the other hand, the flat hog-hair brush used for oil painting is more stubborn and powerful. The way it forcefully spreads viscous paint is like heavy machinery performing land leveling.

What is interesting is the fan-shaped "fan brush." At first glance, it has a shape that seems difficult to use, but it is an "air director" that blurs boundaries and creates misty textures. Don't you think it's luxurious that there are brushes that exist solely to stroke, rather than to intentionally draw?

What is the difference between an expensive brush and a cheap one?
In a word, it might be the difference in pride called "resilience." A 10,000-yen sable brush, no matter how vigorously you move it, snaps back to its original shape the moment it leaves the paper. That lack of hesitation eliminates the hesitation of the artist.

It is not that a 100-yen brush is inferior. Inexpensive brushes have the ultimate weapon: the "courage to get dirty." You can intentionally let the paint harden to the base to split the bristles and draw scratchy, dry strokes. You would hesitate to perform such bold adventures with an expensive brush.

Washing a brush after use is a "ritual to groom its coat." Carefully wash it to the base with soap and shape it with your fingertips. A brush that has dried in this way seems to be quietly catching its breath for the new expression it will host next.

You don't need perfect technique.
Just choose a "coat" that matches your mood for the day and let it play on the paper.

Such time should create a small margin in your busy daily life.