I’ve always admired the business of cleaning nails ,I guess it's called pedicures and manicures. I admit it’s a skillful art form, and though I’ve never tried it myself, I can’t help but feel a quiet fascination every time I pass by a nail salon.
There’s a small nail studio just a few streets from my house. Its glass windows always sparkle, and the faint scent of nail polish drifts into the air whenever the door opens. Inside, I see people sitting with their hands dipped in bowls of warm water, feet soaking, or fingers stretched delicately under UV lamps. The technicians work like gentle sculptors, focused and patient, each decision intentional.
I’ve been an artist for as long as I can remember. I’ve spent hours blending colors on a canvas, sketching fine lines, and perfecting each brush stroke. I know how to hold a brush gently and firmly, how to make the color flow exactly where I want it. In my mind, I sometimes imagine how easily I could translate those skills to nails,more like tiny canvases begging for miniature art. I imagine painting tiny sunsets, soft florals, or abstract swirls on each fingernail,i know I could probably design something stunning.
Yet despite this, I’ve never tried it, and I don’t think I ever will. There’s a difference between painting on a still canvas and holding someone’s hand in yours. With a canvas, I can pause, correct, or even start over. With a client’s nail, there’s no room for hesitation. It demands a level of precision and steadiness that I admire deeply, the kind that makes me a quiet observer rather than a participant.
One afternoon, I stood outside that nail salon a bit longer than usual. I watched as a technician or should i call them artists too painted a delicate flower on a customer’s nail, her hand moving with such confidence and grace. I imagined myself in her place, holding that tiny brush, but I knew deep down that I would probably second guess each stroke, worry too much about smudging, and apologize too often.
My art has always been a solitary act, something I do alone, often late into the night with music playing softly. Nail art, on the other hand, is a shared experience. It involves touch, trust, and a quiet connection between two people. It requires you to be fully present for someone else in a way I’m not sure I could manage, sincerely.
Whenever I do get my nails done, I would watch the technician closely, noting the angles, the pressure, the patience. I sometimes joke that if I could paint nails like I paint canvases, I’d have a second career. But the truth is, I’m content to leave that world to those who have mastered it.
I may never try it, but I will always admire the art, the human connection, and the quiet confidence it takes to transform something as small as a nail into a tiny masterpiece. And every time I leave the salon with fresh, shiny nails, I feel like I’m carrying a piece of someone else’s art with me reminding me that art comes in many forms, some of which I’ll only ever admire from the outside.
The last time I did my nails,I did take a lot of pictures I admire from time to time even after the nails have gone old.All credits to Aesthetic Empire
ALL IMAGES ARE MINE