They can’t all be gems.
Some days when you paint, you can’t do any wrong.
The pigments and water seem to literally dance on the sheet.
The brilliant colors blend and merge exactly as you want them to…it’s a magical feeling.
And at the end of the day, you have a satisfied feeling, like a cat that’s caught the canary, that you’ve pulled off another great painting.
Today wasn’t one of those days.
My first attempt was to paint this scene:
When I came back, I found something had inadvertently touched the still-wet sky and had left some marks.
This is beyond repair. You can’t fix this.
Some people might say “Oh, Friar, that’s nothing. Nobody will notice that.”
But the point is…I’LL KNOW.
And anyone looking at the painting, will zoom on on these white blemishes, and that’s the only thing they’ll notice.
So I decide to cut my losses, and quit while I’m ahead.
But not without adding some editorial comments of my own.
There was still an hour left to the class, so I decided to start another “easy’ painting.
Unfortunately, I messed up the full moon. The masking compound didn’t cover the area properly, and the moon was lopsided.
And, again, there was nothing I could do to fix this.
So I added some more editorial comments.
And for good measure, I include a giant mutant squirrel wreaking havoc in the woods.
I call him “Chuk-Tor”.
There’s always a story behind every one of my paintings, including my bad art.
I had almost forgotten about this one, which I did about 11 years ago.
I was living in the West Island of Montreal at the the time, and I remember that I had taken my paints out to the waterfront, to try to capture Mount Royal and the downtown skyline in the distance.
The painting already wasn’t going well. The colors of the sky were already not going the way I wanted.
To add to my aggravation, a toddler and his dad had to come and stand right next to me. They had the whole park to go to, yet they had to stand right beside ME.
And this was one of those little obnoxious kids who would never shut up. He kept asking his daddy questions, over and over again, and daddy kept answering while referring to himself in the third person.
Drove me nuts. And my painting suffered, as a result.
And that’s when I put in Godzilla.
I always say, if you’ve already ruined a painting, then you might as well have some fun out of it.
Not all of my paintings are “masterpieces”.
I did this one in art class a few years ago. After it was done, I realized that I had gotten the perspective of the house wrong, and my teacher agreed. And since this was watercolor, I couldn’t erase my mistakes. The painting was a dud.
To make matters worse, another student (who actually was a terrible painter) gleefully kept pointing out to the class that she knew my painting was wrong, that she told me so, again and again, but I wouldn’t listen to her, etc. etc. The woman just would not shut up.
I wanted to smack that witch, but I bit my tongue. Instead, I decided to set fire to my house. After all, I might as well get some amusement out of it.
Everyone loved the burning house, (except the witch, of course).