An escape like no other.

It took me 30+ years to discover the wonders of paint.

My wife loves to crochet, that is her great love, relaxing from the stresses of an overfilled work-life by making little blankets or beanies or other cosy things with her hands.

But my love is of paint.

Perhaps it's in the blood as my family has a history of being creators. My mother and her sisters were quite the painters and crafters, and growing up I'd ponder over their strange artworks, some of beautiful scenery, some of weird, eclectic visions. Their father was a carpenter - a man of many talents. His father, a farmer - whose hands worked the rich soil in the northern fields of Lebanon, growing their own wonders and delights. On my big, burly Irish father's side, he had his hand in a little cross-stitching, while my dainty great-grandmother was a brilliant painter able to replicate the greatest works of art in the world with exceptional precision.

And whilst I do love to write, to draw, to game, to explore - I find myself always coming back to create with paint.

But not just any painting.

While there's no question that a blank canvas gives you the freedom to create something incredible - I was never particularly good at it. My drawings or paintings on a blank canvas would often look more like a toddlers first foray into colouring. Like a Picasso without a shred of talent. What I'm saying is I can't draw or paint a decent cat to save my life.

SO! Instead, I use the magic of a custom-designed miniature using one tool or another (which is a joy unto itself), or 3D print out someone else's creation. Anything from a Mandalorian, Poke'mon, Xenomorph, or Zombie, to my own heroes like Berel the Magnificent (pictured with this article).

In this way, the miniature, printed out gray, primed in white (depending on your preference) acts as a semi-blank canvas for me to delve into.

I gather my tools - a multitude of tiny brushes with various tips, from horsehair to synthetics; my 100+ paints from a lustrous bronze to a vomit coloured yellow, or special effect "Blood for the Blood God" red (my favourite - I tend to paint a lot of gruesome monsters).

I gather my tools, I sit at a nice, comfy chair - sometimes with a beautiful view of Australia's expansive seas on the Saphire Coast, or the rolling hills of the ancient Blue Mountains if I'm lucky - and I forget the world.

I forget the world and I instead imagine - what would this character look like if I did this or that? What story do I want to tell with my brush and paints? Are they afraid? Are they worn and tired? Did they just come from a great battle? Did they win or did they lose? Are they in mourning? Or did they just feast on the corpses of some poor fellows? Is that why there's blood and gore dripping from their maws? Perhaps they're covered in pustules or a disease.

It could be funny, it could be dark, it could be anything.

So I forget. Hours pass. Day turns into night and I feel no great urgency to leave. I enter into the nothingness. The fathomless void where the mind exits the body as you are all consumed by the ease of which your beloved hobby occupies your being. What COVID? What Crisis? What Political fiasco? What war? What tragedy or insurmountable, unfair inequality?

Nothing else matters but the shade of colour I wish to mix and apply to my creation, and I leave only once I'm satisfied, adding the tiniest of insignificant details, until, at last, I can say that I am finished.

And then I go back to reality, back to responsibilities and life - but having been changed, even if only a fraction, for the better, for the stronger...

Whether you paint, crochet, or another hobby - whatever you do that brings you joy, enjoy it. Life's too fleeting not to.