Lauryn PriceOriginal Paintings

How the sausage gets painted

Straight from the studio floor. Live version on Instagram.

Garage studio: an easel holds a work-in-progress of a red face in profile against dark green, beside a turned-around canvas and a card-game painting leaning below, brushes bristling from jars on a cloth-draped table
The one that's fighting back.
A hand with a paintbrush wrist tattoo raises a glass of white wine in front of an early-stage canvas in muted green and brown, a loaded palette on a folding stool beneath it
Quality control.
Looking down on a cluster of paint-crusted brushes fanned out of jars and cups on a small wooden board, with murky rinse water, a folded gray rag, and a lid of magenta paint
Every brush I own, none of them clean.
Studio corner: a wooden easel with a sketchbook of loose ink scribbles, a yellow cart crowded with brush jars and buckets, and a large checkerboard-and-flower drawing taped to the canvas-draped wall
The corner where it happens.
A puddle of pink paint mixed on an upturned black lid in the foreground, a palette balanced on a tin can behind it, and a peach-toned canvas waiting on the easel
Pink phase.
Bird's-eye view of the work table: watercolor pans, crumpled paint tubes, brush jars, a splattered drop cloth, and a copy of 'Drawing Nature' wedged into the sprawl
The floor is a palette now too.
One hand in a paint-smeared denim shirt carries a tin of brushes, a glass of iced tea, and a paint-splattered white bucket all at once, kitchen stove in the background
Two buckets: one paint, one iced tea.