Painting (walls)

Yesterday, I helped my friend Renae finish painting her new condo. We were focused on turning the closets from a snot-yellow to a clean white, but we were also doing a few touch-ups, like on the outside of the closets, where the white closet paint accidentally hit the tan color of the walls.

My job placed me on a step stool, carefully adding the tan color back in with a tiny watercolor brush. Renae laughed—appreciatively—as I hunkered close to the wall, carefully getting the line just right. We’re both suckers for detail.

Luckily though, the work was quick; there wasn’t too much to fix.

But what if I only had a watercolor brush to paint the entire wall? I could imagine it’s a lot like what Seurat felt when he painted A Sunday Afternoon on the Island of La Grand Jatte: intimated by the expanse of the wall, but satisfied as each dot is carefully placed down onto the wall (canvas) to slowly form the big picture.