I have had this paintbrush for over a year now. I left it in paint last winter at my studio. As a result of my neglect the bristles are rock hard and it is completely unfixable. I have not been able to throw this brush out and I look at it often. This paintbrush is a memory of my practice. It bears the scars of my painting process. It is a wounded warrior that did not make it out alive. This paintbrush reminds me that the process itself is important although it is never seen. Although it no longer retains its original function as a bristled tool to apply paint and it is more like a stick, I have found ways to use it. I just hope the next person will appreciate it as much as I do.
— hand delivered in New York City
I love leftovers. Things that remain that meant so much at one point, to someone else. I particularly love the leftovers of creative work. I’m a sewer, and there’s something so poignant about collecting up and discarding the scraps of fabric and ends of thread that didn’t make it into the final piece. That’s how I feel about this paintbrush, but particularly about the paint: the remainder that didn’t quite get to its destiny on the canvas. The paint that could have been a beautiful picture, is now just a hardened relic of what might have been. I want to help that paint make it to its destiny by mounting the paintbrush in a case and hanging it on my wall. It might not be exactly what the paint wanted to be in the end, but it’s a fulfillment of sorts. And when it finally gets onto the wall, it won’t be there alone: it will hang there with the paintbrush that has stuck by it – two bits of a process that can now claim an endpoint.