Last week’s workshop reminded me why teaching watercolor is my dream job. Not because I had the opportunity to travel and experience beautiful Madeline Island in Wisconsin, or because I love getting treated like an honored guest (although those things are certainly true). Not even because I am getting paid to do my two favorite things; paint and talk! What really makes this job so deeply rewarding is the same thing that makes a painting come to life; the power of connected presence. There are breakthrough moments in my watercolor journey that hold great significance for me, and it is a wonderful privilege to offer words of guidance and encouragement that lead to similar moments in the lives of other artists.

Where did my outline go?

When I teach, I start with a rough outline of what I want to cover in the workshop, but the outline is quickly forgotten as we open up to each other and talk about the challenges of showing up to paint with a whole and open heart. Hanging on the walls of our studio are paintings by master watercolor artists and plein air sketchers that offer lessons in different ways to paint a subject, and I get to refer to them to support my own understanding of artistic principles and design. We form our own language with inside jokes and compare notes on each others’ preferred supplies and artistic styles. A question from one student will provide a lesson to be shared in a demonstration painting, and we use our surroundings to understand how to see and paint the landscape.

Finding a Theme

Our theme last week quickly revealed itself; BE BRAVE. In my opening lecture I commented offhandedly, regarding our fear of the blank page; “It’s just watercolor, no one is going to die.” That comment made its way into my students’ notes, because it’s such a needed reminder! We need to place our anxieties about making a mistake into perspective, because it’s so easy to be paralyzed by our fears of messing up. Later, when we contrasted my first demonstration painting against one of my last paintings, it was a quick reminder to all of us how trust impacts art. The painting I made on the first day indicated far less trust in my audience; it was full of brush strokes and heavy paint, working to get their respect, while the last few paintings were mere smears of joyful brushwork and revealed a trust that the beauty of the paint could be enough; I wasn’t trying to prove, justify or validate myself anymore.

Losing Validation, Creating Space

Validation was another frequent topic. If our painting offers a model of connected presence, there is a sense of peaceful existence that doesn’t need to be justified or explained. There is no place for regret over past decisions, and no anxiety about outcomes. This impacts my painting by allowing me the space to slow down, to observe without judgment, and to allow the painting to tell me what it needs. Releasing my need to justify myself offers space to listen and receive; validation is all about what I put out into the world.

Listen & Trust

I love hearing my students’ stories. I love seeing who they are emerge in their brush strokes, color choices, and even their learning styles. In my workshops I want to be present to hear what each artist brings to share. I want to see artists connect my loose, intuitive, often minimalistic style to their own idea of what artistic freedom can look like for them. And I want to encourage them to trust the process. While we were painting in the studio each day, monarch butterflies were emerging from their chrysalii and feeding on milkweed outdoors, and they offered the perfect object lesson for the reminder I tell each student: “You have everything you need to make the art you’re meant to make today.”

A Lesson From Butterflies

Every phase of a butterfly’s life is all about timing, and yet few creatures’ lives are more ephemeral and immediate. When the butterfly larvae enter the chrysalis stage, change is incremental and invisible. They are tightly bound and limited; there is nothing they can do but be still and present inside their wrapping and wait for the right time to emerge. And butterfly do not emerge all at the same moment, and they would gain nothing by attempting to keep up with the butterflies around them. While some are flying free and beautiful, others wait for their own transformation. We are in a similar position as artists. Working in the moment on what we are able to do, we must trust that our own yearned-for artistic metamorphosis is enroute. That we may not be able to see our own growth, we may feel oppressed by our limitations, but there will come a time when we look back and see our own path of growth and it is exactly what we needed.

The collection of diverse paintings I created during the workshop. So exciting to see them come to life!

What You Care About Matters

I love the paintings I created with my students last week. I love their diversity. I love that I am able to model before them that not every painting is going to be finished and masterful; that some paintings are a struggle that will point me in a different direction. I get nervous too; worried that I might have chosen a painting subject that I can’t do well, anxious that my very spontaneous teaching style might feel scattered and incomplete. I have to fight to remind myself that the best thing I can do is seek to connect with authenticity and share what has been powerful for my own journey. Those powerful things are playful experimentation, courageous risk-taking, and pulling the threads of my curious thought to see how everything that I love - song lyrics, colored rocks, sociology and saying “yes”, to name a few - all come together to influence my art and make it authentic and alive. Exploring identity - being who I have been made to be - has allowed me to make my best art; how could I not teach from that same place, to the best of my ability?

This summer has been hard for me. I’ve known since the beginning of the year that I am in a transition phase of my life, and it has been very difficult to be patient while in-between what was and what will be. This workshop reminded me again that “if it’s true for watercolor, it’s true in life,” and trusting the process and looking for what brings lasting joy will help guide my life and my art through the changes ahead, whatever they may be.

My workshop was hosted by Madeline Island School of the Arts (MISA). Working with them was really wonderful and we are all looking forward to my workshop in Tucson in January 2023. Find out more and register here.

What Can a Butterfly Teach You About Watercolor?