Watercolor, Risk Taking, and Life as an Artist

I've always had this wish to whip out a watercolor sketchbook and make a little painting on the spot that captures the spirit of a place.  There is something inspiring about having this power, and the result is always different than taking a picture.  However, my past efforts at this endeavor had dissuaded me from continuing to try.  

Last fall, I attended an oil painting demo by Benjamin Bjorklund, and something about it re-awakened an interest in watercolor painting as a means to becoming a better oil painter.    As an artist (and also just as a person) I think it is vitally important to stretch oneself, keep taking risks, and keep exploring in life.  For me, painting in watercolor felt like an enormous stretch, and it has been simultaneously difficult and rewarding.   The feeling of being a beginner and having to re-approach painting has reminded me of the most important lessons I've learned about being an artist. 

So, when I saw that a local artist was offering a watercolor class this spring, I decided to enroll.

Why it is Easy to Stop Making Art 

Betty Edwards writes in her popular book on drawing that many people set down their proverbial drawing pencils sometime in childhood. Perhaps it was late elementary school. She describes how, a person wanting to draw a something realistic— say a face— might end up with a drawing that looked contrived, and after that experience many people gave up drawing all together.

Rediscovery: When You Realize You're an Artist

It is so easy to forget you are an artist, and so easy to give up learning the language of your own work.  Like learning any language, you start out sounding terrible.  Your vocabulary is limited. People might make comments or make fun of you.  Unless you are unusually buoyed up by some source of encouragement, you will almost certainly want to quit.  ...Unless you are one of the people who can't quit.  Or doesn't quit.  And if, when you are in the early stages of frustration and yet you find that the desire to keep going simply will not die, you are an artist.  

In my own case, when I was about fourteen, a friend of mine lent me a copy of My Name is Asher Lev, which belonged to his father, who was a painter.  

Something about the story resonated with me at that time, and it felt like I had remembered something long forgotten: that I *was* an artist.  Being an artist is a strange thing.  It doesn't actually matter if you've been painting (or whatever is your art form of choice), but it means you must begin.  Or in my case, begin again.  

As it happens, my friend's father who was an artist is the teacher of the watercolor class.    At the time I read the book, I had only met him once. And at that time, I had no idea then that I would be learning from him now.  

The Lost Art of Being a Beginner

When I think of being a beginner, I think of the enthusiasm of a child: that feeling of when a person is five and can't wait to do something — to jump in double-fisted.  But when a person starts adding digits in front of that five-- even at 15-- it becomes harder to begin and keep going.  Not everybody has this experience, but I think many of us do.  When I think about being a beginner, there seems to be a dose of humility that is required as a prerequisite.  On the verso side of feeling like one is five, well… the feeling one is very young can also be something to endure. But, in that process lies the path to new discoveries.  Embracing the challenge is the only road to finding new vistas. 

The secret to life as an artist is to begin.  And when necessary, begin again.  And to keep going, no matter what. 

I decided to take a class in watercolor to become a better painter, even though I knew the experience would put me back in my late-elementary school shoes.

For me, watercolor is a new frontier, which will in turn affect the way I paint in oil.  Expanding one’s craft into new territory opens up vista upon vista.  Who knows, you might see me out painting those off-the-cuff landscapes I've been dreaming of whipping up.  And who knows, you might decide to join me.