Not as a joke. There is a filbert, a size 8, rosemary and hog, that I have used on almost everything since 2021. The ferrule is dented from a fall on the studio floor and the handle is worn pale where my thumb sits. It has never been washed with soap. I wipe it on the rag, work it into a little linseed on the palette, shape it, and it goes back in the jar.

People in my classes ask how often I clean my brushes and I know the answer they want. The answer is: this one has not touched water in four years, and it still holds a point better than anything I bought last spring. The hairs have gone soft and slightly hooked at the end and that hook is exactly what I need for the edge of a jaw.

I am not recommending this. I lost a good sable to neglect once and I am still annoyed about it. But there is something in a tool that has been through enough of your own work that it stops being a tool and becomes part of your hand. I bought a replacement last year, same brand, same size, and I cannot make myself break it in. It sits in the jar like a new pair of shoes.

Anyway. The painting it is on right now is a woman at a window, morning light from the left, and I have been fighting one passage on her forearm for six days.