Dabbling in Color
A Collection of Humorously Bad Watercolors From a Sanity-Saving Pandemic Hobby
In the summer of 2020, it was the height of the COVID-19 global pandemic that had started in March. The U.S. government continuously asked for patience as they worked to develop a vaccine and keep the populace safe, imploring employers to enable remote work.
As soon as we opened the cabin fo the season, I packed my bags and worked remote by the lakeside. We still were being asked not to travel, not to do things in large groups and to always wear a mask. I spent most of the summer alone at the cabin, isolating, like a dutiful citizen and honestly, it was quite peaceful. I checked my eMail regularly and saw my husband on the weekends when he delivered clean laundry and new groceries.
I needed something more to do than arguing with the noisy squirrels who weren’t used to someone in “their” space during the work week. On a whim — I don’t even know why — I ordered some watercolor paper, brushes and paints, watched a few YouTube videos and started painting. I loved it! The result borders between embarrassing and humorous, but producing amazing artwork wasn’t the point. It was the unbelievable feeling of being creative at a time of such uncertainty that resonated with me. I kept up the hobby for a few years — not improving much — but as restrictions lifted and there’s been more freedom to travel and spend time with family and friends in person, I seem to have abandoned the hobby.
That said, I think it will be an amazing time capsule for a future ancestor to have a glimpse of how one person eased their stress during a global pandemic.
A Humorous Retrospective
On our tiny lake at the cabin, we always have at least a pair of loons and often a whole asylum. Listening and watching is mesmerizing. (Listen to the real loon sounds captured by me at my cabin. You can also hear birds chirping.)
Loons have an iridescent element to their feathers. That is what I was trying to capture in this unfinished painting. I think I liked how the neck and face turned out and didn’t want to ruin the painting by trying to finish the body.
Or fix the beak.
Or add water.
Or paint a sky.
You would not believe how hard it is paint a night sky, northern lights or anything celestial! You’d think because of the ethereal nature of it, it’d be easy, but this was the best I could do.
Best to keep trying, I’d say.
As amateurish as many of my paintings are, most look better after having been scanned and converted to JEPGs. There are a few exceptions and these two are among those. These are an attempt at monotone-shading to create depth in the mountains. It starts with a really watered down color and layers in increasingly less watered down color. Unfortunately, some of the lighter shades weren’t picked up in the scan.
I have no excuse for the trees.
When I start a watercolor, most often I find a picture online of something I’d like to paint, I trace it to the watercolor paper and then attempt to work the paint to match. Sometimes, after the paint is dry, I take a permanent marker and add in some lines of definition, like the snowman and peacock above. In this sunflower effort, I did neither, and the result was a messy blob of something that somewhat resembles either flowers or a tree, depending on how you look at it.
This cacti is one of my favorites. I didn’t trace anything but I was inspired by watercolor artist Peter Freischlag. I just love the vibrancy of the colors.
I often wonder what my ancestors did to relieve stress, especially during times of global panic. For me, being creative helped minimize the chaos, confusion and confinement. Writing about it with complete humility also is a stress reliever.
I hope you’ve spent some time writing about what you did during the pandemic to ease the very real stress that we were all feeling.
I wrote a memoir during the pandemic called The Gosling Bride. I had journals and photos spread all over my living room floor. Now I'm writing a 2nd one. It's hard work, filled with introspection and angst (lol)), but that was one thing the pandemic gifted us with, don't you think?
As an Arizona native, I unconditionally approve of your cacti. :)