a few things about the watercolors

there are a few things about the watercolors. things i need to say.

the first is this: they’re not my medium. i mean, i play with them, and i enjoy playing with them, but watercolor is not what i pick up when i actually want to paint. really paint. i’ve been wondering why that is these last few days, as i’ve been sitting at the kitchen table with brush in hand and the most lovely, translucent colors dripping all around me. they’re fun, these watercolors. they’re lovely to look at. so, so easy to set up and clean up (which is a highly attractive quality when compared to the oil paints i generally use). but really, i don’t know how to handle the watercolors. i don’t know how to make the paints do what i want them to do. though it occurs to me that there might be something to that - something freeing about not being bound by any sense of what i ought to be doing. yes, in fact, i’m sure there’s something to it.

the other thing is this. my dad was a watercolor painter. a real, live watercolor painter. he painted still life, and he painted landscape. and he practiced law, because my grandparents didn’t think that being a painter, or a poet, was a suitable profession. but my father painted with passion. and he painted with me. even as a small child, i had a little blue art bin just like his big one, and my very own set of materials and supplies (maybe because he didn't want to share his own!?). and he treated me like i was a real artist, my dad. he was something.

so when i bring out the watercolor paints, i feel him. i do. even though we use little trays of pre-filled color and i almost never take out his box of brushes and paints, his palette that still has dried-up blobs of color across its surface. i feel his presence, but I also feel some pressure. it’s as though, if i’m really, truly, and actually going to paint with watercolor, my painting has to be worthy, somehow. it must live up to my father’s expectations, to his memory. i feel that pressure somewhere inside of myself. and so i don’t even try to paint with watercolors. i only play with them. and it's lots of fun.

revealing.

(painting by my dad, hanging in my kitchen)

it has been revealing for me, this little foray into watercolor. and after thinking it over, i’ve decided that i'm going to keep playing with these paints. playing by myself, playing with my kids. and one day soon, i don’t know which day it will be, but i know it will be soon, i’m going to bring out my dad’s box of paints. and we’ll play with those, too. we’ll play, and we’ll play, and we’ll see where we go from there.

Comments

[Alicia A.]

Emily- this is so sweet. He'd be happy with you, I know.

[Liz]

This post speaks volumes to me. My husband is a professional artist; watercolor being one of his most practiced mediums. Art surrounds us daily and my children are growing to love art in all aspects. I only hope that they have such fond memories as you when they pull out their own paints, with their own children, many years from now.

[Kristina]

This was beautiful. Thank you for talking about your dad today.

[erin]

i love this post. so much.

[cloth.paper.string]

i can sense your father in the pictures, in your words - and you and your children as well. at the intersection in the brushes and boxes and in the fluidity of the medium.

this is a truly lovely post, emily.

[hrsj]

Yes Emily, I agree this post is so endearing and I think your Dad was probably proud of you and wanted you to have your own box.
paint, paint away...

[Pina]

A wonderful post about watercolors. I like your thoughts about your dad.
Watercolors are my favorite. I can't really paint myself but I admire other artists' work, also yours little paintings with watercolors from your previous post. Little beauties.

[Tracy]

Oh, Emily. It is wonderful to hear that you were blessed with such a great dad. I love your thoughts about him. And I understand your hesitation. I hope you are able to play to your hearts satisfaction, and that it does indeed take you somewhere. Anywhere it takes you will be good, I am sure.

[ani]

you pull my heartstrings like no other blogger!

i have that same blue 'art bin' but it is only full of half-used supplies from when i thought myself to be an art major, no lovely stories.

[Grace]

I love seeing your dad's things. I love that bit of concreteness that lingers even though he's gone. I don't mean that to be glib -- not at all. I hope you know that.

[Mariss]

Such beautiful memories of your dad that you shared with us. One of the first posts I noticed when seeing your blog was your lovely illustration with flowers and watercolor. I hope you get past what you need to, so that you can enjoy them. I really like his painting too!