I have a confession to make: I thought watercolours would be… easier.
Yes, yes, I can hear the gasps from seasoned watercolourists already. “How dare she?” But hear me out—I’ve come from the thick, luscious world of oil paints, where colours go on bold and can be moved around like butter on toast. There’s time. There’s forgiveness. There’s control.
Enter watercolours, stage left, with all the deceptive innocence of a pastel sundress. They look so gentle, so simple—just a splash of water and a whisper of pigment, right?
Wrong.
Opposites Don’t Just Attract—They Confuse
One of the first things I learned (the hard way) is that watercolours demand a completely opposite approach to oils. With oils, you work from dark to light, layering highlights at the end like the cherry on top of your painterly cake. With watercolours? It’s light to dark—start with the cherry and pray you don’t spill the cake.
I can’t tell you how many times I’ve stared at a half-finished piece thinking, “I should’ve left that bit white.” And then I dab at it. And then I try to lift it. And then I create what I like to call an ‘expressive puddle of regret.’
The Great Waterfight
Let’s talk about water. With oils, water is a no-show. But with watercolours? It’s the star of the show, the diva, the high-maintenance guest that insists on doing its own thing no matter how politely you ask.
I always start with the best of intentions—controlled washes, thoughtful blends. But before I know it, I’m swirling, dripping, blotting, chasing rivers across the page like some kind of artistic water sprite. The result is either magic or mud. Usually mud. Very moody, artistic mud, but still.
Not All Bad
Now don’t get me wrong—watercolours have their charm. There’s something freeing about letting go (once the panic subsides). The translucency, the softness, the unexpected little blooms and blends that you couldn’t plan if you tried—they have a mind of their own. And when it works? It really works.
It’s just that most days, I feel like I’m trying to teach a cat to do ballet.
Still Playing
So yes, I struggle with watercolours. I mutter at them. I glare at the paper. Sometimes I bribe myself with biscuits just to finish a piece. But I keep coming back. Because every so often, through the chaos and the splashes and the “oh no what have I done” moments, something beautiful happens.
And isn’t that what art’s all about?
Have you wrestled with watercolours too—or are you one of those magical beings who actually gets along with them? Let me know in the comments. Or send tea. That works too.
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