Confessions of a watercolor masochist

I am a watercolorist. And like many watercolorists I've spoken to or heard talk about it, I have complicated feelings around watercolor painting. 

I love it with an anguished kind of passion, and simultaneously loathe it. I frequently cast it aside out of frustration, and then crawl back to it later, full of hope and enthusiasm.

Sometimes, watercolor is an abusive partner who puts me down and refuses to co-operate. Other times, it's a spiritual teacher, gently coaxing me to let go, and guiding me towards breaththroughs and miracles.

None of this is the actual paint, of course. I'm not that crazy. 🙄 

It's all me: my mindset, my mood, my (lacking) skills, my unreasonable expectations, my impatience. Watercolor is a mirror that reflects back at me what I put out. And what I put out is usually this nervous perfectionist energy. Desperately wanting things my way.

Even though “my way” is so often...boring.

After finishing my Watercolor Bugs series, I was dead sure I was done with watercolor for a while. The further I got with that collection, the more I tightened up. My first few watercolor insects, I approached in a playful, experimental way. The last few, I was so tense I could barely breathe while painting. I needed them to be JUST RIGHT, NO MISTAKES. *panting hysterically*

As you can imagine, it was a relief to be done with them. And for my next project, I longed for the ease and straightforwardness of oil painting. I wanted my control back. I wanted to create paintings that always turned out exactly how I wanted.

Then I painted a few oil studies. 

And I got them to where I wanted them. 

And I was bored. 

And I felt nothing when looking at the finished results. It's as if there was no life in the paintings.

Part of this, of course, is due to my lack of skill and practice in oil painting. I've only done it for like, a year. I'm an oil painting infant. And I'm certainly not saying all oil paintings lack life, or energy, or spontaneity. It's just my oil paintings that do. 

But most importantly, I don't get that same thrill when painting them.

I've come to realize, I'm a bit of a masochist in my art practice.

I need that thrill, that threat of failure and disappointment. I need it to feel really, really, really challenging. Because that's when I get that high when I do manage to pull a painting off. That's when I get really attached to my paintings, as if they're rare gifts from the watercolor goddess.

However much I hate it, I can't be without the fear, frustration, and humiliation of watercolor painting. It's my white whale. I'm chasing a particular loose, etherial style of watercolor painting that keeps eluding me. And it makes me want to chase it even more.

This obsession is what kept me going during that first year or so of my art practice, when nothing I made ever came close to what I wanted. Where each new sheet of paper was a thrilling adventure to see which of a hundred ways I would fail this time. And each ugly painting was fuel on the fire of my determination to "crack" this difficult medium. To one day become the kind of watercolor painter I dream of: one who goes into each painting with a clear vision, but no expectations. One who works with the water and pigment, dancing with it, inviting surprise, embracing mistakes. One whose paintings convey emotion and story and mood, instead of just coldly presenting reality.

This is the polar opposite of my usual, unimaginative, nervous, stiff way of painting. And I'm beginning to realize why I'm so drawn to watercolor of all mediums. Not just for the thrill, but because it is the medium that can best teach me these elusive skills. It is the teacher I don't want but desperately need.

And so I've decided to re-commit myself to it. 

Even though it sucks to sort of "go back to the drawing board", (or the watercolor sketchbook in this case.) It sucks feeling like a beginner again. But that's what it takes to step out of one's comfort zone. To learn how to paint in a new way. It's an opportunity to work with myself, and push myself to evolve and grow as an artist.

This past week or so, I've disciplined myself to practice my watercolors every day. 

I pull up a new sketchbook page, pick a reference, do a value study, and then an attempt at a watercolor sketch. 

I choose subjects I find particularly challenging, like landscapes, portraits, or…anything with a background. 🫣

I fail 80% of the time. I write down my mistakes. And then I move on.

I'm already noticing small improvements. Slightly looser brushwork. Little "mistakes" that I force myself to keep, and actually enjoy when I step back from the painting later.

I practice approaching a new sketch or painting with a sense of playfulness instead of fear. I mentally prepare myself to just "waste the paper and whatever".

And I think I'm going to keep painting this way now. With no worries, no set plans, and no deadlines for a finished collection. Whatever wants to emerge will emerge. 

Watercolor is teaching me to chill, and go with the flow, and I'm going to listen for a change.