A couple years ago a friend gave me a set of Derwent watercolor pencils and a little sketch pad for my birthday. Thank you! What are they? I tucked them onto a shelf and kept working with my oil paints.
For the last two weeks, I’ve been slogging and whining through a head cold, too sluggy to walk down the hall to my studio, too guilty to continue doing nothing productive, but too comfy not to turn off the tv and leave the sofa. I pulled out the colored pencils and sketch pad, plus the new set of Caran d’Ache water-soluble crayons I got for Christmas. I set them up on the coffee table with a pile of over-ripe fruit, and I found the European figure skating championships on tv.
I was so happy playing around with those pencils, crayons, and a wet brush that I stayed there for a few more days (the ice skating competition continued, too) and filled up the sketch pad. It’s been great practice with still lifes, new media, and speed. At 5 x 8 inches, the pad is just the right size to eliminate fear of a blank canvas, and the materials are so easy to pick up and put down and pick up again.
I thought “aquarelle” was a product name, but it’s a word for a “drawing usually in transparent watercolor.” I love the word and its specificity, and if I were a mermaid it would be my name.
Later is what?
After settling into various desk jobs, I always said I'd get back to painting later in life, and later is now. Again means that I tried once before. I decided to write about my painting endeavor, too, as a learning tool, an accountability tool, and to stay sharp in case I have to go back to a desk job. Again.
I love periodicals, and if I weren't trying to devote more time to painting I'd mail paper copies. Sign up here, and I'll conveniently send it (blog posts, sales, and new work) by e-mail instead.