Dreamy Artist Studio

Welcome to the artist's studio, a quiet space for reflection and invention. The old floors are caked with years of accumulated paint splatters. Byzantine blues, ruby reds, pastel pinks all blot together to form an elegant portrait of their own. Along the back wall, shelves overflow with wirey paint brushes, old scraper tools, and crumpled tubes of half-used oil paints. At the center of the room sits a large canvas mounted onto an even larger easel. Directly behind the artist's station, on a paint-splattered couch, sits a large, sleepy brown dog, the artist's muse and subject for tonight's masterpiece. Before we begin, let's start off with a little wind-down exercise. Tonight's exercise is a really simple breathing exercise. So, when you're ready, let's begin. So, first, get yourself comfortable. Now, just bringing the attention to the breath, just noticing where you feel it. In the nose, the throat, the chest, the diaphragm. You are nice and relaxed. We're going to be taking a deep breath in for four, holding it for four, and then breathing out for six. So, are you ready? Let's begin. In for four, two, three, four. Hold it for four, two, three, four. Now breathing out for six. Two, three, four, five, six. In for four, two, three, four. Holding for four, two, three, four. Out for six, two, three, four, five, six. In for four, two, three, four. Holding for four, two, three, four. Out for six, two, three, four, five, six. In for four, two, three, four. Holding for four, two, three, four. Out for six, two, three, four, five, six. Great. Now returning the breath to normal. Of the many portraits stacked along the studio wall only a couple are of people. It's easier to paint dogs than people. Dogs are happy to be observed for hours on end without getting self-conscious, but people are uncomfortable with being stared at. The person being looked at feels an urge to return the painters gaze. The paint brush taps the canvas lightly leaving a tiny speck of white. "No, that's not right," the painter says and pulls out some cotton wool to wipe it away. The dog is made for being painted, she loves nothing more than lying around. She has been lying here all evening without getting fidgety. Her eyes are resting on one point on the wall near the empty coat rack with a single coat hanger. She wears a distant expression as if she's forgotten where she is as if her thoughts have begun to wander, as if she's lost in memories. The painter mutters to himself while he paints commenting on his progress, giving himself tips. "Hmm, yes, well done," he says to himself and then squeezing some more red onto the palette just a little it goes further than you think. He likes the dog's silent companionship. He doesn't like making conversation he's no good at that kind of chit chat which happens in hair salons. After some minutes of...