I paint because I must. At times while driving, I’m so captivated by the lighting or cloud formations that I reach for my camera, open the car window, and start snapping pictures (not recommended for safety).

During scheduled sabbaticals from painting, I catch myself still creating mental paintings. Or, like an overstuffed attic, I cram my mind with future paintings. Last summer, one of our dinner guest exclaimed, “Pamela, creativity is pouring out of your pores.”

Sometimes I have to force myself to put my brush down. Otherwise I bargain, Just one more stroke. And before I know it, an hour or two has passed.

But when the last brush stroke is applied to the canvas, I can finally relax. Satisfied, I know that I have endeavored to create something beautiful to uplift the heart. And I feel pleasure.

Photographs waiting for the next burst of creativity cover the floor in my art studio. Every time I walk into my studio I sense the photos beckoning me. As I stare at the pictures, I start working out the next painting’s details: the colors, the lighting, and the background. Although household duties vie for my attention, I find that I must paint some more.