Ink Paintings turned my artistic life upside down. Before, my work was as flat as a pancake, without depth or that extra zing. This course wasn’t another mark on my belt. It was like a brand new paintbrush, with vibrant colours and endless possibilities, recommended site?
As I entered the first-class room, my hands were trembling. It felt like I was about a defuse a nuclear bomb. The blank canvas with a set ink brushes is a little intimidating. The instructor was a quirky, contagious man, who made it seem as if we were playing in a playground. “There’s nothing wrong, just happy mistakes,” he said, trying to soothe the tension.
The first lesson dealt with the fluidity of the ink – how it moves across the surface. I was a little embarrassed by my first attempts, which looked like a drunken tangle of spiders. But I laughed, because, what is life without a good dose of self-deprecating comedy? I felt each stroke as if it were uncharted terrain, but over time, I was able to discern a pattern.
One particular moment will always be etched in my memory. The piece we were to create had to be inspired by natural elements. The instructor handed each of us a bamboo paintbrush and said “Feel Bamboo.” I thought the instructor was nuts. As I closed the eyes and let my brush sway in the wind, I sensed a strange connection. The ink spread across the page like wild vines. It formed shapes which felt almost intentional. I’d found a hidden channel between my hands and my thoughts.
The aha! moment Aha! When we started to experiment with layering, it came. My inks blossoms did not just rest on the surface. They popped out, giving it a feel as if you could pull them off. It was almost as if my canvas had turned into a garden.