We acknowledge that some unpleasant chores are simply part of the deal for many pursuits. But if there’s an alternative, why not embrace it? If, for once, the lazy solution is also a great solution, should we not celebrate!?

Let’s start with the (well, my) primary complaints. If you have more, I very much encourage you to chime in in the comments!

1. Time commitment. In a world where time is an ever scarcer commodity—and this is especially true now that I am a parent—I simply do not want to devote 15-30 minutes at the end of each painting session to washing my brushes. It’s boring and I want to go have dinner with my family instead of standing in front of the sink trying not to splay my tiny rounds while getting through this task as quickly as possible.
   
   
2. The evil twin of time commitment: lazy painting choices to minimize the time commitment. Why get the perfect brush out to make ten strokes when it just means I will have to spend more time washing it than I did using it?
   
   
3. Our water supply. I am under no illusions about painting being a green activity (the rags have to go somewhere, eventually…and we use a lot of materials), but the thought of washing lead and cadmium down the drain into the public water supply gives me serious pause.
   
   
4. Brush longevity. Those beauties are expensive. I would really like to expand their lifespans as much as possible. It’s better for my wallet and it’s easier on the planet.
   
   
5. Inevitably, innocent brushes die. Or, at the very least, I find them in the throws of rigor mortis, forgotten as I beelined for the ice water (backpack forgotten in the car) after a plein air session...then made dinner, then played with my son, then fell asleep, then fell into an abyss of admin for two days, then a weekend, then used some other brushes...oops. They are usually salvageable with the aid of Richeson’s magical Linseed Studio Soap, but it requires a multi-step process and further time investment. And sometimes, they are too far gone and can then serve only as expensive sticks for scratching textures into landscapes.
   
   
6. Some combination of the above means that once in a while, the brush I really want is wet. And of course, oil and water don’t mix. So I have to make due with something else, and no self-respecting brush snob enjoys making due.

Let’s not forget, as easy as it is to complain about these inconveniences, I am also very aware that I live in a lovely place with warm, running water. This isn’t always the case when traveling, camping, etc. Or occasionally someone really doesn’t appreciate me washing my nasty brushes in the beautiful marble sink in their powder room. It also wasn’t the case for Rembrandt, who, like many artists over the centuries, had a different solution: storing brushes in oil.