THE BREAK

Harley Brown's fascinating things no one else will tell you

I often the art us day after day, but then there are times we're away from the easel much longer than usual. A while ago, I was on a two week "break" from my art, yet there were a number of projects keeping me totally occupied. Finally, late on the last day, I wandered into my studio and started a pastel portrait.

Right from the start, it was labored with none of my personal flourish. I pecked away, one stroke at a time with little continuity or flow. Each stroke was pondered, then once laid, had me worried...tense. Sure, I was back at the easel after that two week intermission, but my art was stilted, lifeless and definitely not Harley Brown. I felt I was retraining my hand and eyes; my hand felt like a lifeless lump and my eyes started glazing over as if in a stupor. Even my emotions got prickly. Sure, it had happened before, but this time I thought I'd really lost it and fell into bed, mentally exhausted.

The next morning I woke up a bit fidgety and went straight to the studio. The art piece there on the easel, seeming to look even worse than when I left it. It was though a gremlin snuck in and threw on extra wonky strokes to rattle me more. This was grim: the jerky, murky manner from a confused and somewhat collapsed mind.

Then...

In a blink and almost uncontrollably, I let myself go-grabbing pastels and laying them down with utter urgency. My confidence swung back within seconds and my patented grin crept across my mug.

There was this major difference: As I did each stroke, I didn't look back at it, because I knew it was right, and was already on to the next dab. Insecurities disappeared as I continued to lay down new areas as well as arrogantly repairing the previous day's mishandlings. I felt like a Pamplona bull that couldn't be stopped. I was so geared, I had to periodically dash to another room for a few moments just to catch my breath in finding myself and assuming command.