The Practised Hand

A student asked me recently why it is that some artists seem able to place their brush in exactly the right place, with exactly the right intensity and colour, and produce an image that, despite being nothing more than a handful of apparently lazily-placed brushmarks, make total visual sense and manages to speak volumes.

As one who appreciates economy of the brush, and strives to say as much as I possibly can with as little brushwork as possible, the only reason I could come up with as to why some artists seem to have that ‘magical touch’ is down to practice.

I’ve spoken here before about how work that may seem effortless in the moment is almost certainly the result of many years of anguish and perseverance, and that the illusion of things dropping into the right place on the paper is exactly that; an illusion. We all aspire to achieve great things in our art, but how fast we progress, and how our art changes over a lengthy period of time is something that happens organically, and not always to some great plan.

I’ve recently been putting together some archives of my own early work (the results of which are available to view in the Registered Visitors Pages), and am constantly surprised at how my work has changed over the years. I often look at these old paintings and conclude that I would almost certainly paint the same thing quite differently today. On the other hand, I have to confess to seeing things that I did then, and wonder why I don’t do them now. For a long time, if invited to do so, I would try to avoid seeing early paintings on people’s walls at any cost, for fear of it affecting how I currently paint.

Artists generally tread a thin line. While many are slaves to their own ego there, nevertheless, is often an inherent fragility to that ego. We all seek acceptance (or most do), yet we all have to develop thick skins to protect us against those who may vehemently dislike our doodlings.

While all this might seem like navel-gazing, there are a couple of pieces of advice I like to offer new-comers to the medium, who may be feeling slightly over-awed by the skilfull deftness of their heroes. Firstly; always watch what happens on the paper. This is where we learn, not only about how watercolour does its thing, but also we learn about ourselves, since every time we load up a brush and apply it to paper is truly a unique event, affected by our own personal bias. Secondly; learn to love the process, and try not to worry about the results too early on. Eventually, it will come right, but there are no shortcuts to watercolour success… only patience and perseverance will achieve that. Most of all; relax… enjoy the good feelings that watercolour paint brings, and don’t be bashful about rejoicing as loudly or annoyingly as you like, when something actually works right for you… those are the moments most of us do it for…