My husband hasn't always been an artist, not even all of our relationship. This all began almost 7 years ago. My husband decided he wanted to spray through some stencils on shirts for our kids. Thus, he bought an airbrush. Aaaaand... That's how we got started down this road. My husband is one of those guys that loves to learn how things work. It's part of the reason he was really good at what he did professionally (plumbing). He would put in a full day's work and then come home and pick up his airbrush and practice practice practice. His airbrush set up at the time was our kitchen table. Yup, our pub height, square, 4 seater kitchen table became his working studio. Where did we eat? With plates on our laps on the couch, naturally.
He would paint for hours after work, most nights until midnight. At first I just tried to be around and hand him things he needed but couldn't find. (Men... Amirite?) Slowly as he amassed more and more practice pieces, supplies began to stack up, and papers began to settle everywhere there was a flat surface, I decided I needed to hang out with him at the table. And so, I carved out my own little spot of space at the table, stole a geometric coloring book and borrowed some half dried out markers from my daughter. Yup. And I began coloring at the table while he painted. Yup, coloring. That was my skill level. Just keep it inside the lines ma'am. That's all we ask. The bar is low.
I was amazed at how soothing coloring was. Was it because it harkened me back to my childhood? Simpler times, simpler pursuits? Was it the ease at which I took to it? I could pretty much stay inside the lines on the thick, cardstock type paper. The paper absorbed some of the ink so the colors didn't bleed over the lines. I liked that. I liked the orderly movement of the line work inside the lines before moving on to rhythmic long strokes of the marker nib across the paper as I drew thicker colored lines edge to edge until the space I had outlined was filled. Completed. Done. And orderly and pretty. I liked that.
In today's age of accessible knowledge and the 24 hour news cycle it is fairly common knowledge depression often is a chemical imbalance in the brain. One of my favorite memes I saw once said "If you can't make your own serotonin, store bought is fine." And store bought is fine. Also other things can be used to help supplement that low serotonin. Coloring, at least for me, seemed to help do that. Why did it work? Still not completely sure. But I still color. Even today. I prefer markers to colored pencils and crayons. I like how they usually lay out their pigment evenly and are so so vibrant. I have some fancy, expensive markers that flow so smoothly but ultimately I am a Sharpie girl. I love to get the Ultra Fine points and Fine points in the same colors. Ultra Fine to edge out what I need to keep it from bleeding onto another color and Fine to fill in. Yes, these contain Xylene. NO, you shouldn't inhale them or use them for prolonged periods of time without proper ventilation. Have I accidentally used them too long? A few times. Major headache. Do not recommend. So... That is a brief overview of how I got involved in the "family business" of my husband's art, just by wanting to hang out with him. ***In no way is any of the information in this entry to be taken as solid, complete medical advice. All statements are my own and reflect my own opinions and experiences. If you or someone you know struggles with depression, please know you are not alone. If you do not know where to start, you can here with the National Suicide Prevention Hotline. Simply call 800-273-8255. It is staffed 24 hours a day, 7 days a week.***