I love being an artist. It’s a wonderful life – hard, lonely quite a lot of the time, but to be able to do what I love is a blessing. BUT the one part of being an artist that I really don’t like is cleaning my brushes. When I’m on a roll in my studio, and painting is going well – or the complete opposite and I’m struggling with the image – I show such disrespect for my brushes. The very tools that allow me to create the work sit for days in evaporating turpentine. I forget about them. This morning I walked into my space and felt so guilty, I’ve spent the last few hours rescuing them. I vow to treat them better from this day forward.