Once, I painted a wall.
Then it dried.
It was super awesome.
If you make a bet to write an article as punishment for losing it might not be the best idea, but here we are, talking about the awesomeness of paint drying. I once painted a wall, a blue wall. I painted all four walls of the room blue. We laid out a tarp on the floor and began painting the walls.
Now, if you’re a paint drying connoisseur like myself, you’d know that watching paint dry is one of the most stimulating activities of all time. Contrary to popular belief, there are many ways to enjoy your paint drying. There’s the art kind, I took a painting class not too long ago. There’s the wall kind, car kind, oops I painted my shirt on accident kind, there are many kinds of paint to watch drying.
I once attended a computer science event where everyone was painting, and the paint that I wanted to watch dry at that particular time was in the shape of a painting similar to Bob Ross. My art professor does not like Bob Ross, so after showing it to her I got kicked straight out of her office. It was amazing to watch the paint on the painting dry as the masterpiece completed its metamorphosis.
First the background of the baby blue sky washed onto the canvas and began drying as I dabbed the yellow into the painting creating a gleam of sunlight in the water. As that dried, I mapped out the mountains with towering dark shapes, and before the shadowy figures dried, I added the light fluffy snow on top with a pallet knife. Next were the trees that I pushed and pulled onto the canvas, creating green and yellow troves as I finished up the gentle reflections on the water for the trees overlooking the pass. And before that all dried, the finishing touches all went into place.
As fun as Bob Ross style paintings are to watch dry, I once delved into the more experimental side of painting, watching dozens of coats of glue dry onto a hamburger as I prepared to attach it to the canvas I had been watching dry for a few days. But in all the chaos the paint also attached itself to my shirt. It dried as fast as a NASCAR racer speeding down the racetrack at the Piston Cup. And if you know acrylic paint, it will not leave the shirt.
And if that’s not fun enough, I once painted a six-foot tall cake with icing. But that did not dry before it got eaten, so it’s not much to mention.
I have seen many paints dry, and there are many ways to watch paint dry. And every time you paint, a new thing dries. I cannot begin to describe the philosophical prowess of the intense sensation that it is watching paint dry, many philosophers have probably tried and failed. But when one reaches deep into the soul, down into the depths of ones heart, the true magnum opus of the joy of paint drying begins to expand and flourish, surrounding one in the sweet sensation.
But in all seriousness, it’s about where the paint is drying and the context surrounding the piece. Something was painted for a reason. Whether it was a wall painted getting ready for a new chapter of life, a silly landscape painted with friends on a mid-week evening or slapping a burger on a canvas and calling it a day, it’s about what led up to that paint drying and the stories it creates.
