It was GV’s idea. Suddenly on our list of things to do one sweltering day last month in Bangkok was finding a paint store. “Let’s keep it simple,” she said.
I had six rectangular pieces of cardboard I was saving for a practical application. So we picked up one tube each of three colors and a painting knife. At the mall where we bought the paint, we sampled a Nespresso and they let us keep the plastic cup. We were set with all the paraphernalia necessary.
“Think of a blank canvas,” she said. “It’s exciting because you can do whatever inspires you. And don’t overthink it,” she explained. In other words, with an open mind, start creating something, anything, while keeping the lid on caution. ‘Fair enough,’ I thought, as two of mine ended up with buried layers of discarded transition.
No errors were allowed because it was a mistake-free zone. The exercise was a practice sharing creative discourse. It was also great fun.
Of course, GV’s ‘blank canvas’ was a metaphor for just about everything in life. We wake up in the morning and are given a blank canvas. We can, if we allow ourselves, do anything that inspires us. It can be fun. We can make boo-boos, learn from them, cover them up and fashion something else to our liking. And there is no end to the supply of empty canvas.