The best paint brushes are made of the bristle which grows on the animal’s back—it is of sharp and shiny steel.
The animal grows up sniffing out its enemies. Not having any defences it has learned, over the course of millenniums, to brush its steely fur against the hard walls of the waterfall rocks to sharpen it.
The animal protects itself from everything except the human creature and its unquenchable desire for possession.
The human creature lures the animal into a trap, and with patience and expertise extracts the bristle needles one by one; the human has learned that the only way to lay down oils and pigments is by using the glistening hairs of the wild beast.
The painter needs the brush to narrate a world that is personal and one that is of all humans. At times painters use the brush as a weapon to wound each other in their ongoing battle as rivals...who knows why they seem to always end up as such.
As for me—and I use many brushes—I strive to slay the other monster that lives inside of me.