Little Toys...Part 2

   I am not an artist, I'll be the first to admit it.  I hear free-thinkers and abstract hippy-types talk and I want to start shoving my fists in glass so i can go all "Blood Sport" on them.I don't know what it is, but there doesn't seem to be a huge amount of natural creativity in me and I tend to see the world for what it is:  a series of set designs and uneditable truths.  These facts keep me cozy at night as I find that order gives a man more structure than the plans of any unending staircase.
   But I paint.  Not in the classic sense of setting up an easel and channeling my inner Bob Ross, but I do paint.  Instead of feet by feet of workspace, I have literally inches and millimeters of work area co complete my product; brushes with heads smaller than q-tips to transfer my limited inspiration to fruition.  This takes time, and for the most part it is a labor of love.  There is something very awesome about seeing a fully painted army fielded on the table; no squinting at the black primer and having to distract yourself for a split second to remember what model it is that you are looking at.  When some of these models are literally half the size of your thumb, the aire of tedium collects quickly (especially with units of men that share the same basic uniform), but when they are finished, you lean back, groan with how bad your lower back feels, and marvel at the fact that you spent 8 straight hours in paint mode.
   Painting is not an option for me.  I paint my own models, I paint others models, hell - I have a model less than a foot away from me that is in mid-stasis in the painting process.  I do not consider myself an artist, that would turn me into someone that I wouldn't understand...I'm just a dude with a brush...