January Watercolor

Our first snow came in the beginning of January and soon rain came to wash it all away.  Then more rain came, so much so, that the local rivers overflowed their banks. The meadow behind my home turned into a rippling river and then into a lake.  A grand flock of Canada geese landed and took a swim.  The five-day forecast is for an arctic blast with temperatures in the single digits for the Garden State.  I imagine that the rain-made lake will freeze and become a skating pond.  A blizzard is surely on its way.  Winter is holding steady.  It grips onto me with icy fingers.

Though I dream of spring, I love the crisp, clean colors of winter.  The cold air seems to freeze every form in place: the red berries on the evergreens, the sleek black of the crows, and the silver icicles hanging from rooftops. I want to capture these images in watercolor, but I haven’t painted in a long time.  I’m afraid my novice strokes won’t capture this winter beauty accurately.

I received a new paint set for Christmas.  I’m eager to create, to play with water, color, and paper.  I love how the paint flows and takes on movement of its own.  The blend of colors always surprises me.  The new set is a collection of colored paper leaves.  Once wet, they turn into a sumptuous assortment of colors.  I prepare myself for painting.  I tell myself to relax and release. I loosen my fingers, drop my shoulders, and move the paint with easy effort.  I try to keep a child’s mind, not worrying about the outcome.

I am reminded of the way one of my students painted this week.  Libby is often worried, but when she paints, she becomes confident and courageous.  She is only thinking of the paint, the water, and the paper.  This time, she experimented by ”tie-dying” cotton balls.  She mixed shades of blue and green together into small cups of water.  Then she dipped and swirled the colors onto the cotton balls, making a wonderful wet mess.  She was smiling as her hands dipped and squeezed. 

Another student called out to me, “Libby is making a mess!” 

“Yes,”  I’m sure she is! She’s painting!” I laughed.  I helped Libby wipe up her pools of paint, as she chatted joyfully about what she had just created. 

I want to be able to paint like Libby – to paint freely and not have a preconceived image in my head.  In essence, I want to play. This used to be easy for me, effortless.  Now, painting has become more difficult.  It is in my head ,instead of in my heart and hand.

After much delay,  I set out a small glass jar of water, my brushes, the paint leaves, and a large sheet of watercolor paper.  I want to capture light snow on a branch of bright red berries.  I make a large circle of light green on the paper.  I watch the color swirl and take form.  I smile.  An inner voice wonders if this is right, but I silence it and keep painting.  A branch in burnt sienna and then a series of red-orange berries. I love how the brush feels while making small circles.  I am not thinking now.  I’m just moving the paint on the paper.  Once dried a bit, I add flecks of snow with Titanium white acrylic paint.  “Is this cheating? – adding acrylic to watercolor?” I wonder.  I keep going.  I like this first snow that I’m creating.  Not bad for the first attempt.  Could be worse.  I stop and admire my play from a distance.