She started painting after they let her go.
Not because she’s good at it. She’s not. But doing something badly that nobody expects you to be good at — there’s a freedom in that. After years of being expected to be excellent, the canvas is permission to be terrible.
The painting doesn’t have performance reviews. Doesn’t have restructurings. Doesn’t care if yesterday’s was better or if the person next to you in the class is faster. The painting just waits for you to pick up the brush again.
She’s not learning to paint. She’s learning to be bad at something on purpose. Which is the opposite of everything the institution trained her to be.