A stroke of comfort

CHARLOTTE —
In a simple stroke, it’s gone.
The uncertainty.
The drama.
It all just goes away.
There is no easel.
No fancy paints or brushes.
She doesn’t even use a chair.
Instead, Amanda Miller makes her way to the living room floor, empties different colors onto a paper plate and goes to work.
And then, in an instant, she’s found.
“When I started, I had a lot of things going on. I just wasn’t in the best emotional state,” she said. “Painting, for me, is a release — an escape from reality; a few hours at night when my mind stops thinking about a million different responsibilities, challenges and, at times, heart aches.”
But creating art is about more, for the 31-year-old, than stepping away from the routine of life.
Sure, “everything goes away” for the hours she spends painting gifts for friends.
The process is calming — therapeutic.
But it also allows Amanda to challenge herself — to express, to those she creates her pieces for, “just how much I really love them.”
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It started a few years ago when, with a tablet in hand, Amanda started looking for a work of art to “mirror.”
“Painting, it’s always been there inside of me, and one day, I just decided, ‘I’m going to try this,’” she said.
And when she came across an image of two birds on a wire, it, quite simply, spoke to her.
“The paint I was using was old and sticky and it ended up giving great texture to the birds’ feathers,” Amanda said.
Friends and family members agreed.
And it wasn’t long before requests started flooding in.
Amanda didn’t mind.
If anything, she found that the validation — and the pride she felt every time she completed a piece — made it hard to stop herself from spending hours at a time with a brush in hand.
“It became something I could do for people — as a gift,” she said. “Instead of giving somebody a gift card from Dick’s Sporting Goods, I could take something that they love … and paint it.”
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Amanda wipes a tear from her eye when she talks about the days that led her to the canvas.
“I used to write an anonymous blog that, for me, was a way to sort through my thoughts and emotions. I loved having that release,” she said. “But when I started painting, I completely stopped blogging. For me, it was the same thing — a way to calm my mind from spinning in circles. It’s something I can feel proud of.”
Her lips tremble and she pauses.
“I’ve just had a lot going on,” she said, almost in a whisper. “Painting, it just takes everything away. When you think about life … everything you go through on a daily basis — mortgages and losing jobs and friends and boyfriends — you wonder, ‘Am I leaving anything behind? Am I touching somebody?’ This, it’s a part of me that I want to spread to everybody. It’s a piece of myself that I get to leave behind.”
In that sense, it’s easy to see why, nearly every day, she lowers the needle on an Elton John album — or any piece of vinyl that delivers “zen, chill” sounds — and slides a brush well into the night.
She finds, through her work, acceptance among those who come across one of her creations.
And painting offers her a much-needed escape from those things most people find themselves, at some point, running from.
“It was the only thing I have ever done where I would lose myself for hours. I’d look at the clock and realize, ‘Oh my God. It’s 1 o’clock in the morning,’ but it was a great feeling at the same time,” she said. “You know, life is full of responsibilities and to-do lists. My paintings aren’t on my to-do list. I think that’s why I love them so much.”
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A tree with three trunks stands alone in the middle of a vibrant haze.
Amanda isn’t completely sold on the idea that as friends have married, had children or moved away, she is that tree left standing in the middle of something vast and uncertain — that her art is somehow reflective of her frame of mind.
But she does admit that there have been times in her life when she has felt alone — and that the isolation required to paint has helped her heal.
“I do think it helped me mend. When something bad happens in life, I think you need to fully feel all the emotions to get over it naturally and feel whole so you can get back to yourself. I think, eventually, I got there.”
Thanks, in large part, to the canvas — to the paper plate, plastic cup and sticky paint that marked the beginning of this particular journey.
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It started with a few simple strokes.
But that first painting brought a sense of fulfillment to Amanda she only wishes she could feel always.
“I would love if painting was my job — to sit in a little nook where I could see outside and have an easel. That would just be the best way to spend the day,” she said. “To enjoy your day — every day — and not work for somebody, that would be unreal.”
It seems unreal because when the record stops spinning and the brushes are left out to dry — when she is, again, confronted with the responsibilities that come with owning a home and having bills to pay — the young woman knows that, at least for now, her passion isn’t able to finance her lifestyle.
So until the day painting can become her career, she dreams in simpler terms.
“If one day, even if it only happens one time, if somebody I didn’t know bought something, that, to me, would be making it,” she said. “That would mean everything.”
And she will never forget what brought her to art — that painting extended a hand when she needed one; that a blank canvas represents hope and possibilities.