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. The dog looks up from the brown leather sofa. Her eyes are soft and sleepy-looking. The hair on her nose is flat from where she's been lying. Behind the dog, through the shutters, the branches of the tree sway in a light night breeze. The painter's eyes, looking up from the easel, are soft and sleepy, like the dog's. His lips open, a sigh comes out. "Go back to sleep," he says, but the dog cocks her head. The dog is listening to things. The swish of the leaves on the tree, the sound of the neighbor watering their garden. Maybe even the faint scratching from the far end of the studio of the brush on the canvas. With thin, careful strokes, the painter outlines the delicate contours of the dog's leg. How smooth the thigh muscles are now... at rest. Where are the sinewy contours which emerge when she sets off after another dog, or chases her tennis ball? "Go back to sleep," repeats the painter, as the dog gently rests her head onto her crossed forearms. After some minutes of intense concentration, the painter steps away from the canvas to assess it. He looks at the dog, comes back to the canvas, then steps out again. In, out, in, out. The old wooden floorboards creak as he does his little dance. Do you really...