Bill found an old mechanic’s parts brush in the shed and thought I might like to experiment with it. As it’s name suggests it’s used to clean car parts. It’s got natural bristles that are coarse and trimmed to no discernible shape. And it’s perfect for me. You can’t get tight with it. It will not allow exactness. This particular afternoon I wanted badly to paint something soothing—not necessarily something soothing to look at, but something calming for me to paint. Something comforting and comfortable. Invariably, the horizon appears, despite my intentions. It grounds me.