Imagine a room filled with excitement, and easels arranged like tents on a dream field. A brush is handed to you. It’s not just any brush. You’re Excalibur and the chosen, but today you will be killing pigments instead of enemies. Anyone who enters a class of ink painting art can immediately feel as if they have stumbled into Wonderland.
Everywhere you look, colors are screaming at you. The scent of new acrylics is tantalizing, and the vibe shouts “Create!” The canvas is blank and you’re unsure of where to begin. The quest for color is the new adventure of our time.
It’s like learning to bake without a cookbook. You need to dab a little here and a bit there. Blue dances with the yellow and creates green out of thin air. Your Hogwarts Letter is here, in both liquid and pigment forms. It’s okay if your first attempt looks like paint mixed with a blender. It’s not always about perfection. It’s not always about precision.
Next, we have brushes. They range in size from “what’s-the-point-it’s-so-small?” to “mop-the-floor-with-it” huge. Don’t get me started with their names. If they were real people, sables, flats and brights would make a great dinner party guest list. It’s less about the utility of the color and more about what feels good in your hands today. This is less about science and more magic.
You’ll often see instructors in classrooms with so much wisdom, they could make Bob Ross cry. The instructors are there to reconcile you with color and form. They transform your blobs by saying “a touch of red here, a hint of yellow there.” They sometimes let you go alone. Like proud parents watching a school performance, they resist the urge to intervene when you are clearly forgetting lines.
These courses are a melting pot of spontaneity, camaraderie and fun. Bumping elbows with someone as you all try not to spill your coffee on masterpieces-in-progress creates bonds faster than a group workout on a Monday morning. The stories you share about art fails will make it clear that everyone is speaking the same “whoops!” and “oh-no’s.”
Virtual classes can be a boon for those with a hectic schedule who are still able to squeeze in some creativity. Your couch can double as your studio, with pajamas as an unofficial uniform. Each brushstroke can be used as a form of meditation. This digital retreat allows people from all over the world to find a moment of Zen.
It’s not just the paint and brushes. The therapy you never knew you wanted unfolds on each canvas. Burnt sienna streaks or cobalt dashes can help to bring order into a day that is otherwise chaotic. Sometimes, all that is needed to clear the fog is to lather, wash, and paint.
It’s not about creating work worthy of a museum. The splashes and splatters, those blotches which become landscapes over time are what you love. Your thoughts are transformed into tangible, visible pieces simply because you created them. You may have also discovered shades within yourself as you’ve explored the hidden colors.
Pick up your brush and stare at the blank canvas. Paint something that makes you laugh or smile the following morning. It doesn’t matter if it goes on your wall or in a corner of the closet. The heart is behind it. Here, my dear readers, is the place where magic happens.
