Spring at last, Dedham Hall course, and the ongoing search for meaning!
Hello, and I hope you’re well.
The Forth Rail bridge and North Queensferry (sold) – At long last I got here, last September. You’ll note how I (deliberately) exaggerated the scale of the bridge; big as it already is… One or two other ‘ploys’ were used here also, to help convey scale. And I wanted to get a train in. Homage to Turner’s ‘Rain, Steam and Speed’.
What an ‘interesting’ place the wider world is these days. Hmmm.
Although I can’t seem to stop it filling my mind to an unhealthy extent, I’ll steer clear of that in this post, don’t worry… But somehow I just have to acknowledge it first. In general I try to stay grounded in the reality of what is definitely happening in front of my face, and I’m happiest when that’s wild nature continuing its processes and relationships as if oblivious to humans. We can go outside to hear birds, prune a shrub, sweep the leaves or go plein air painting where the sights, sounds, buffeting of the wind and fast numbing of fingers all compel the paint brush to move fast as if under the influence and control of something out there beyond knowledge, reassuringly gathering it all together and the painter serving as a humble conduit. For some reason.
I’ve not had a classic period of painting this winter, with discouraging results and some disciplined but not confident or inspiring experiences. I also think I’m feeling the harshness of outdoor conditions more as the years go by, being another aspect of wild reality. It’s not just conviction that’s necessary, but if you’re not driven then your best paintings may be behind you, given these challenges. (I reflect more on all this in an optional segment at the end of this post!)
Video clips
This post features lots of these. It took a very long time to put this together so I don’t think I’ll do it again, but I hope they may help convey the location to you in terms of mood, atmosphere and weather situation. Some of the clips include me talking to camera and others are just a snapshot of the location in a few seconds. (Of those where I talk one or two are addressed to ‘Bill’, because Bill is the film maker who might use some of these clips eventually, though it’s hard to see how!)
Dedham Hall – Upcoming residential course, April 12th – 19th
A quick reminder first, that I’ve got my course at Dedham Hall, this April 12th – 19th, in case you might fancy joining me there for that.
The course is booking up quite well so please book soon if you’re interested. Just over a month to go and I’m really looking forward to this. Perhaps more than ever I’m planning to really do it all ‘my way’. I always have really (I don’t know how anyone else does it anyway!) but I mean sometimes I think I’ve stood in my own way a bit, and not taken some of what I regard as ‘risks’ with my own ideas. Probably these are small things in the scheme of it, but anyway. And obviously that’s with the intention and belief that this will mean the best experience of learning for all participants. I’m regarding all things these days as potentially my last. Perhaps I’ll do more courses at Dedham and elsewhere but nothing seems to surprise me about the future (or rather, the present) nowadays.
Some details of the course are here (please note my recommended Materials List also), with further info about Dedham Hall and booking on Dedham Hall’s website, HERE. Please get in touch if you have any questions at all about the course, whether it is right for you, etc. (I think that’s an important thing to consider well, and it doesn’t always seem to be!) For anyone who hasn’t been to Dedham Hall before, it is a lovely place to stay for a week’s course. The location and surroundings I would describe as ‘idyllic English’ and Wendy & Jim’s hospitality and overall offering has got to be the best in the UK for something like this. A lot of teachers want to teach there and its a privilege for me to be doing so again.
Crail, behind the harbour (in’Maggie Inglis’ Hole’), tide fast approaching. Yes, the ‘perspective’ issue in the buildings was deliberate. Experimenting. Hmm. A very quick decision, as these things are. Was a bit unlucky with one aspect of that in terms of how it turned out due to fast painting (to do with angle of chimney – hard to explain) but otherwise it would have….. Anyway, I actually do quite like this one in most ways, regardless of such things which I’m sure other people may find offputting, or bad.
Autumn and Winter
I am often tempted to go out in challenging conditions, so long as I can envisage the location/subject being tackled with the right attitude. It does quite often entail an almost literal ‘envisaging’ in this case, whereas when weather allows a bit more time for hanging around I find I often enjoy heading out with the idea of surprising myself a lot about the actual subject to be chosen, although still – usually – knowing what location I’m going to as a ‘plan A’, based on sun and tide position, likely weather, etc. There are pluses and minuses to both approaches.
Painting has changed quite a lot for me over the years, though it may not be noticeable to look at the paintings themselves. It has become much more directly ‘about’ the experience, the being present, consciously within the process than it was a decade ago – although it was to quite an extent then as well. I’m partly more aware of what it is that drives me now, having considered it carefully and become quite concerned about when that lacks. I can rarely feel a compulsion to ‘create’ anything at all unless there is the directness of relating to the subject by being ‘in’ it, feeling a part of it.
There are, however, two studio paintings somewhere below. Other than in various tuition settings, these are the only paintings I’ve done indoors since last winter, when I did just one.
Bright low winter light and The Castle rock, Kilminning. The light was pretty blinding, as it is in winter when it is out, being so low. Things look so black and white and there are one or two hours in a day where the sun is highest that its okay, if you’re lucky! I annoyed myself with how I painted the focal point of Castle Rock in this – not very good. Thought I captured that light okay.
Drizzle, rain, cold… The old salmon bothy at high tide. I had all the weathers during this one. Almost ruined the painting during a very fine drizzle that I didn’t detect for too long, oweing to wearing the peaked cap. Then stopped a couple of times for actual rain. Very cold too, and although that’s pretty much a given in winter, all the hanging around makes it worse. The only bit I like of this is the sea, and rocks in the water on the left. Dampness in various forms damaged the painting and paper in places, which is annoying, but this paper (Bockingford) is so ‘soft’ that really high humidity (and actual drizzle – noticable mostly in left corner) does that. Sky looks mysteriously unblemished, mostly. Not sure why but must have been fully dry before first drizzle.
St Monans windmill. A very windy and cold one.
St Monans’ ‘auld kirk’. (Sold). Light changed so quickly and when it happens in winter it’s even more likely to a. change literally everything in the scene and b. not change back again! A fair bit of artistic licence in here, and experimental approach. I try to do the latter always to some extent, but sometimes it happens more than others and there are different reasons for that.
Drizzle and cold, near the old Salmon Bothy looking east. One of those many that I thought wholely unsuccessful at the time, but later was surprised a bit by. The focal point of sea splash was an invention/device. Based on something I could observe happening further to the right and to a smaller extent.
The two studio paintings…
The gathering storm, Roome Bay, Crail (sold). Studio painted, straight after a very bracing walk!
Low Cloud, Polglass. (Studio painted, from photos taken during this year’s holiday in the northwest highlands). If it hadn’t been completely shrouded there would have been a great view of a big mountain in front of us here. The weather was mostly like that for the few days I was here. You take your chances here in the highlands – and with the ticks and midges!
And back outside….
Newark Castle ruins from the rocks below. (Take 1)
Newark Castle, below the doocot. Take two!
The Lady’s Tower, mist rising on a murky day.
The Maiden Rock, lowering light, autumn. (A very fast and unfinished painting; was over inside 25 minutes because light had completely changed.)
Crail front, Bright December light. Another very fast one. I mean there aren’t really any slow ones, in winter, but the tide was pretty close to me even at the start, and my escape route in some of these places gets closed off, so you’ve got to be a bit cautious.
My favourite Rock, with wagtail and the Lady’s Tower. Not a great painting in any part, but I love the shape of this rock (appearing slightly like some creature looking towards the light), which I’ve painted once before – better. There was a wagtail coming and going all the while around me and I felt he’d add to the painting quite well – in theory. That was done at home, after some consideration. And as always when doing that, it shows badly in the manner of ‘carefulness’ that I painted the bird. There was no risk though, since I didn’t feel I was ‘ruining’ anything very worth ‘saving’. As an unrelated point, as you’ll see from the video, I was under great pressure of time with this one. Survived wet feet, but down to the last second.
Experiment with Arches paper…. Been a few years, and still I really don’t like it. Makes watercolour seem like a whole different medium. Also used an alternative three colour palette of Ultra, Light Red and Raw Umber, rather than my usual Thalo, Indian Red and Raw Umber. It needed more from the sky, which I didn’t manage well enough. Was supposed to be a more distinct ‘glow’ from the sun on the right.
My first plein air oil painting (I’ve shown that finished painting in an earlier post)… This is the third oil painting I’ve ever done. The first was at about 11 years old, which went straight in the bin. The second was a studio thing about probably 8 years ago which I did post here on the blog, and then this one, using my home-made plastic box ‘palette shelf’ adaptation for my usual easel here. That works okay at this scale just about (painting is 12 x 16 inches) but could do with larger palette space really.
And one ‘bonus’ clip, though I really don’t want to show you the resulting painting as frankly it was rubbish, and you can see clearly enough in the video. The light quickly (and utterly) permanently changed again, so most of the painting was based on memory… hopeless really…. I’d lost the will at that point, but the sky had got me off to a bad start already. Close to being good actually, but not as close to being bad. All rests on a few small things tipping in the wrong direction. Still never yet done a painting of this great subject that I like! Reckon I’ve made the long walk at least 7 or 8 times now.
This month’s ignorable ramble
It has become more and more apparent to me, over the years, that painting now has to enable me to get into the flow state for me to really enjoy it (if not for it to be a decent painting) and I also have to be able to feel somewhat expressive in the process, by which I really mean ‘be emotional’. To feel free to ‘fling the paint around a bit’ (very hard to describe these things in words). To take chances and follow instinct, impulse, spontaneity. To BE as a conduit for the outside influences; to feel ‘being directed’. The process needs to be dramatic. I do usually get dramatic in a good one. And in a bad one…. Well in either case it may not be good to watch! … Being as fully conscious as possible, and finding the beyond mundane.
I need awe.
It can be best where weather is poor, I’m in a ‘natural’ landscape area, perhaps remote, really feeling alone, with the sheer power of nature. Light effect can be important of course, but atmosphere is so much more than light. Dramatic weather, sky, plants, water, and where I now live, a lot of rock. These are nature’s/my ingredients. Broad full sunshine of summer is – usually – the least favourable situation for an interesting and rewarding experience.
Built environment (and lots of ‘careful’ pre-drawing) are generally less favourable to me too. But this is just the more ‘typical’ example, because things are never so straightforward and describable. For instance I find thankfully that sometimes I really need a change – from anything – so the opposite of all this is just perfect. Since the beginning of my painting life I’ve clearly recognised that my own psychology is probably the single biggest influencing factor on everything. And problem.
I wrote about ‘the flow state’ (quote marks because of the fact that many people may not be familiar with this term) a year or two ago in a lengthy article in Leisure Painter magazine. I half expected that the editor might not want to publish this, as it is definitely slightly out there in relation to their typical article. The conditions for ‘flow’ can be created or brought about. I recommend reading this Wikipeadia entry, which explains it all well. The conditions for flow can be brought about yourself, as the article explains:
https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Flow_(psychology)
There has to be a force of life itself going into paintings – and going into life! In contrast to all this, to work in a cold, quite dark ‘studio’ room, from photo references, I find almost impossible. If not being directly affected by ‘the subject’ in a physical sense then it becomes just ‘making a picture’. There’s nothing wrong with making pictures, and (gratefully) I’m sometimes reminded of this when I really need it, on seeing a great painting by someone else. But I can lose touch with it, and then what I’m doing in the world feels…. not enough of a contribution for the good. Making pictures is I suppose a worthy enough thing, but now I find it needs to be ‘about’ more. About connection with life. The process of being with nature and trying to capture something profound about it. I think it happens sometimes, and the causes remain a mystery that can’t ever quite be pinned down from within our subjective experience.
Others will just see a calm looking little watercolour picture of a scene!
And in a sense that’s all there is, in the end. Or that’s what it is to one person, and yet maybe not another. It’s funny that one of the paintings that I’m happy with – even like! – might look identical to one that is meaningless to me because of the experience (when my psychology was just not combining well with all the outside aspects.)
It restricts me, in terms of how I can paint, how often, how well. I agree with people who say that you should paint when you’re not feeling inspired (the inspiration can follow, once you’ve started), have discipline, etc etc, but I know well enough how I am and what I can do. I do have discipline. I go out into the bad weather and battle with my mind to overcome difficulties that many people wouldn’t make themselves face. I go to great lengths, in a sense, for every single painting (or rather, every single experience) and a lot of them amount to nothing, in terms of a potentially saleable picture. Whole days used up, lots of walking carrying the gear, getting very uncomfortable and worn out, and no ‘result’, or more likely a quite discouraging one, that then needs letting go of. Many would view it as such a complete waste of time and effort, but it’s the only way I can do it.
Often, there are times when I think maybe my painting days are behind me. But it dates back almost as long as I’ve been painting. Anyway its nothing to worry about mostly. Life has always had me on the search for meaning, and if it goes from painting then I’ll have to find wherever else it might be. Making music became a thing of my past (just recently slightly resurrected as an occasion hobby) when painting became my focus as a way to try to earn a meaningful living, and music was huge in my life for over two decades! I couldn’t have dreamed of being without it, but it is *creativity* as a way of being in relation to life/the world that is the thing, whatever form that comes in. But I don’t think even that is an essential that must last. A friend of mine used to be a highly dedicated painter in his 20s, at a time when I wasn’t, and now he hasn’t painted at all in over a decade. And it’s just fine. It can be just a phase of life that ends. Or comes and goes. Though I’ve always seen it, with aging you feel ever more how tiny one’s own corner is to the whole and it can leave you floundering (if you have a need for ‘significance’, as I think we do more when younger). NOT that one’s ‘insignificance’ is bad – I always found that a consolling reflection, rather than the opposite as many people find it. But it can be easy to see no need to DO anything, and instead just want to be! – the tiny part of that greater whole.
I do wish that I was able to contribute more to the things the world so desperately needs, so I’ll keep trying to make my tiny ripples as positive as possible, as we all do. Anyway, currently I’m actually quite hopeful about working with oils!… It may pull me in more deeply than for years! The unknowable is my source of hope.
All just an ‘age old story’ – I know!
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In other news, I have a three-part series of articles this year in ‘The Artist & Leisure Painter’, on the subject of Composition. To be published at some point later in the year. It was an interesting development, the two magazines merging into one. At time of writing I’ve yet to see the first issue, but as far as I understand it the publication is going to be like the same two magazines as ever but literally bound together one on top of the other.
I hope you have an enjoyable spring! Get out there.
I’m still waiting for the first blackbird song here in Fife. Any morning/evening now, and it always affects me quite profoundly, the moment I first hear it …. But I’ve had a daily songthrush for maybe the last fortnight. 🙂
All the best for now,
Jem
Hi Jem – what a wonderful blog – I really enjoyed the video clips – the landscape is absolutely stunning and you capture it so well. I thought the use of your limited palette was particularly beautiful. The Forth Bridge – what a cracker – Indian red the ideal colour for the bridge Jem?
I’m not surprised St Monas’ sold but my favourite was Newark Castle take two very closely followed by Drizzle and Cold! You were kind enough to explain how you achieve the water splash in your last blog Jem – thanks. For me the magic did happen – mastery of the watercolour medium – for heaven’s sake don’t stop painting Jem.
Take care and good luck with the exhibition.
Cheers
Paul T.
Thanks very much, Paul! Yes, Indian Red is totally the colour of that bridge. Though it wouldn’t have bothered me if it weren’t! In fact I really find Indian Red is a good match for rather a lot of things I paint. This time of year it’s perfect for the remnants of last year’s bracken.
Yes, the water splash was done in exact same way as that other painting from previous winter post. I’m doing it a lot these days, and there’s already one more new example now which will be in the next blog post!…. Glad you liked the drizzle and cold. Thanks again for your encouragement, and all the best, J
Hi Jem
I haven’t watched all the videos yet, but what an almost athletic performance it was to paint in such harsh weather conditions! These videos really help to appreciate your work, I think they’re even part of it: we’re plunged live into the dramatic intensity of their genesis. Modern technology has its advantages: if only we’d had that for Turner!
I know what it feels like but I’m just discovering the term ‘flow state’. My daughter explained to me that in French you say ‘dans la zone’. It’s an interesting brain process that I’d like to explore further. It should be a guide to moving in the right direction, but as far as I’m concerned it’s hard not to be disappointed by a mediocre result!
It would be too sad if you stopped painting and I hope that this state of flow will motivate you to continue!
I’ll soon be able to experience the process live when I join you in Dedham Hall in a month’s time. I’m really looking forward to trying to break out of my quiet little habits, make some choices and take a few risks! Let’s hope the sky doesn’t fall in the meantime (that’s a Gallic expression)!
All the best and see you soon
Caroline
Hi Caroline. Thank you for your comment.
I agree, the videos are a part of my work in the way you mean (as well as in other ways!) Our life is our art, really, don’t you think?
No doubt you do know the flow state, as do most people or probably everyone. Indeed ‘in the zone’ is a very well known phrase describing it. I think it’s one of those things *known* but barely recognised or acknowledged in our whole way of being (in terms of the modern/’western’/industrialised, etc, world) hugely unconscious as we are, and it is of course fleeting, but very often literally is the source of the moments of life which/when/where we actually feel enjoyment, freedom, feel ourselves, at home, at one with the world, etc. Because we’re being fully present. People are talking about this more and more and though I’ve briefly touched on it myself in my blog for the past decade, I have been wary because the fact is it is ‘spiritual’ and of course that’s a word and a thing which is commonly completely misunderstood and likely to be alienating to many people. But it is strictly relevant to a practice like painting, and integral to probably ALL of the best artworks, of any type – music, poetry/literature, etc.
In the course of painting, we come in and out of flow a number of times usually. The ‘out’ part during which we reflect ‘objectively’ (impossible, but as well as we can…), assess, plan ahead, etc, before plunging or drifting back in – IF we are meeting the conditions of flow. But in the moments that we are concerned about the how the painting will turn out (and e.g. about ‘taking risks’) then we are not being fully present but rather, worrying about the future! If we’re fully presencing our ‘subject’ (the here and now – of nature, or a still life, pet dog or whatever it is we’re painting…) then our observation effectively merges into one with what it is observing, and this is how we can best create art. Of course, its all a fine balancing act – another metaphor for life in general.
I think being consciously aware of all this (or ‘mindful’ of it) is definitely a step in the right direction for anyone.
But the truth is, to achieve this when teaching/demonstrating is all but impossible for a lot of reasons, but I try my best, and my approach to watercolour and painting even when demonstrating is certainly still disregarding of risk. What is there to lose? – is what we need to see.
…And yes, here’s hoping the sky doesn’t fall, though I wouldn’t mind if it fell directly on my head sometimes.
Look forward to seeing you soon, J
Thanks for taking the time to give such a long reply. I do paint fairly regularly perhaps four or five times each week. But mostly my paintings are to practice and hopefully learn to master those techniques . But I’m not disciplined I suspect and have tendency to swap around why I’m doing. Skies for a while then trees the buildings then figures the travel sketching. I know the theory of learning and rehearsal but just not great at it. But I’ve started to try and have more discipline. And will now also try and focus on observations and watching the paint dry. But dilution control and timing are certainly areas that need improvement.
Hi Joe. Where you say “but mostly my paintings are…. techniques” – This is what ALL painting should be, or IS in my view. i.e., you don’t ever get this bit ‘out of the way’, and then do your paintings. It goes on forever. As I was trying to say in my last reply, dilution control and timing are literally IT – in relation to the dryness/dampness of your paper). In a nutshell, in terms of controlling the medium. So, it’s watching it dry, but also being bold in how you experiment with this. Hope this all makes sense, and good luck.
I agree with the first person’s comment who says you are a bit too critical of yourself. I love the light in general, the rocks, the skies, the wind and the wet though it does look jolly cold. Exciting to share the hard fought for winnings of Scottish winter plein air from the safety of our sitting rooms.
I have had to cancel the week at Dedham Hall, alas, owing to unexpected surgery that has just come up. I so regret this as I would far prefer to be painting. I have rung the owner who has kept my deposit; I do hope you will teach there again in a year.
Very interesting and inspiring blog. Thank you.
Annette
Hi Annette, I’m sorry to hear that you need to miss the course. Good to get the surgery done I guess though. Hopefully I’ll get to meet you at some point in future and yes possibly at Dedham, though I have no idea what the future might hold. …. I am certainly looking forward to some less cold weather for painting up here! The southeast of England is always a change; normally the warmest part of the UK, though not always of course. Thanks for your comment, glad you enjoyed the blog. All the best, Jem
You’re still one of the only painters I’ve seen who can completely nail those Scottish skys. You’re a wee bit too critical of your painting also.😊 Suppose most painters are the same.😊 I still really enjoy your work.👍
Hi Alfie. Thanks very much for your comment. Well, I do love to attempt to convey the skies. Quite often right here by the coast they are a bit blander than inland UK skies. I also lack locations close to home where there’s a good focal point that I can ‘place’ facing westerly with sky above, too. So I’m overjoyed at times when I do get a great sky to have a go at. Wherever we are, we can’t have everything. I’m looking into the possibility of an e-bike, so that I might be able to get myself to places along country roads and into fields. This area lacks laybys on the roads, and verges aren’t suitable for parking on either. …. I’m sorry that my self-criticism can be a bit annoying to people, I know. It’s a part of me to the core and certainly I wish it wasn’t so, to such an extent. On the other hand, I think some at least is intrinsic to improvement, in any discipline. Cheers.
I always find your blogs inspiring. Not only do I love what you do with – at times – fairly bland landscapes but I really appreciate your honesty. I learn a lot from just looking at what you have done though I still can’t paint anything I much like ( just from time to time something works). Please keep painting and sharing. I must get hold of those articles in the Artist and Leisure Painter. Thanks!
Hi Olga and thanks for that. I think ‘all is relative’ is a great thing to remember in any situation, and in regard to painting it is a fundamental truth at every level. Tone, colour, edge, texture, scale, etc etc are all hold their power in relativity/relationship, and in terms of subjects, from bland to not bland, really it’s a matter of relativity, and so you can draw out the *relatively* dynamic or interesting aspects, or beautiful, or dramatic, or distinctive, or….. (whatever you want) aspects of some place/subject by how it is contextualised. I think we just find ‘beauty’ in things that are ‘more’ beautiful (to us) than other things, that’s all. We always compare, and judge by comparison. This, and I think a bit of *enhancement of difference*, not to mention a bit of artistic licence in all the usual ways, can help. …. And I think I’ve just grown up wishing there was more honesty in the world, and far too much BS at every level. It seems to me that not many people in our society really like honesty. We’re not used to it! Thanks again.
Great blog. I do enjoy reading these. And the videos were very interesting this time. Along with others also think your paintings are marvellous but I also know that we are our own worst critics. And wish that I could get into the flow but I get bogged down in the practical errors I make. Like overworking, trying to fix mistakes, not planning and therefore not achieving what I hope do. And on top of all that there are the issues with the medium, composition and how to achieve more than just a picture. I guess that I have to accept that I’ll never be an artist whose work I actually think is great. Maybe competency will have to do?
Regarding the world we live in my current strategy is to try and use a Stoic philosophical approach. One theme is to not beat ourselves up about things that we cannot control and to just focus on what we can control. It has helped me a little in these bad times.
Hi Joe, and thanks for your comment and thoughts. There’s a lot of things you’ve raised, and really a decent response to it all would need a lot of reflection. How much do you actually paint? To make good progress it has to be a consistent and concerted effort to do the things you know you need to do. So we need to make notes and follow those things with discipline. For example, trying to ‘fix mistakes’. I always tell people simply to NOT try to fix mistakes. POSSIBLY ‘fix’ them at the end only, and only then if you really think they need it. At the end is the time though, when you can see them in context and whether they really matter. AND whether you can actually ‘fix’ them at all, rather than make things worse, which is what so much ‘fixing’ actually does. But some people just will not help themselves, because they cannot make themselves stick to such advice as this. … Flow, or being ‘in the zone’ is probably achievable for you and anyone when painting (maybe you achieve it when gardening?), but it’s finding a good balance between the level of challenge and ability, for one thing, and you’ve got understand it’s causes/conditions to then take the right approach (as I mentioned, that Wiki article is very thorough, and there are other factors that come into it, but the conditions CAN be created). In practise, the process of a typical painting usually involves coming in and out of flow a number of times, combining that state with an ‘assessment/reflection/planning’ state, which we try to be as ‘objective’ as possible in – though there’s no such thing as the ability to be literally objective. … No ‘great artist’ thinks his work is great, ever, as he raises his standards as his ability improves. Most painters I’ve met who think their work is great are very mediocre and tend not to improve, which makes perfect sense to me. …. I agree Stoicism is great, for life generally. Containing much wisdom, a fair bit of which is in common with Buddhism, Taoism and other great wisdom traditions (something that’s been a great interest of mine for a long time). Philosophy and psychology are so linked and so integral to our ‘approach’ to anything in life, including painting. For some years now I’ve tried to simplify this, down to this: Treat every painting session as *an adventure*, every single time. So there’s always some degree of experimentation, then you’ll be present, not worrying about the result (no expectations about a ‘good’ one) and therefore able to *enjoy the process* with every brush stroke, willing to take chances and observe what happens. This is how to always continue learning. AND the most direct way therefore of getting to good results. …. Observation of the subject is so fundamental but equally so is observation of the medium. Watch paint dry, on wet paper, damp paper and dry paper – Get to know YOUR paper (and all other materials – of which you don’t need many) and see that controlling the medium of watercolour is mostly about *dilution control* and *timing*, both of which in relation to those states of the paper. I hope this is helpful.