–A Weekly Chronicle Series
Week Six ||
My propensity towards art is not highly absolute just yet. I can recall my mom enrolling me to painting lessons when I was young. Few summers were spent messing up with oil paints on a canvas. Thereafter, my profound love-affair with art began. On the flip side, school shook me out from the budding affair; college persuasively pushed me learn medical terms and nursing interventions. It is after college graduation when I painted again, an almost epic fail comeback, yet my work can still be considered as art ,or so I thought.
These days, since I have all the time loosing around, occasionally trying to be artsy-fartsy, I am saying hi to paint brushes again! It’s going to be an acquaintance of ink, paintbrushes and with her subtle partner, the intensely difficult water medium of all, watercolor. I never had a formal background with it so brace yourself from amateur, trial and error endeavors.
Fascinated with fashion illustrations sites, for aught I know my so-called motif Spring Fashion 2012 illuminated and the first attempt started. Quite frankly, the first was close to a stick-drawing, faceless and clad in a vintage dress. Not relatively bad for a first-timer, huh.
Then I was making a more human-like figure with roof like skirts, still mixing up oil paint techniques with watercolor. This much I do know that oil paint allows an artist to conceal one color after another, deliberately managing a mishap however watercolor doesn’t. Oddly enough, the distinct delineation water-color could create couldn’t be seen in mine. More attempts and we’ll get there, perhaps.
Few tries and nearly sophisticated figures were transpired on the surface, with curves and changing hues. Sort of daring approaches to happy accidents an artist can unravel to; not being particular about the perfect stroke and mixing of colors.
Artist’s block hammered afterwards, when I tend to be so compulsive about my work being exactly the same from the picture, scared with colors and leaving no room for mistakes. This I say were still the creative days, but not greatly artistic. I was not happy.
Plunging back to being spontaneous, I loosened up and trusted the accents my brushes could create together with the varying consistency of water, which turned out pretty well.
Happy of how being carefree resulted, I took the risk of painting a portrait without a sketch, just watercolor directly on paper. Holding on with the thought that if one wrong stroke jolted in, I wouldn’t let it ruin and take over the entire work. Been struggling with the toil of an aquiline nose to arrive an epitome of beauty and there goes the eyes I perfected, almost.
Nevertheless I was delighted with my work. This affair with watercolors is just starting to perk me up! I might stick to it. Art is supposed to be an anodyne to our personal pandemonium, a source of enchantment. If I want something precisely similar to a picture why not simply modify it with Photoshop and print it instead? I believe blunder marks make one’s work bear an authenticity and impression. The freedom of expressing and liberating ourselves lies there, through the unrestricted ink doodles, dancing strokes of brushes with the colors, watercolor in this case.