The Pan Dimensional Emporium

I hate being bad at things. I give up the second i realize I’m not naturally talented, but there are so many things I want to do.

Painting has always been one of those things. I was so scared to start because I knew I’d be bad at it.

I’m a writer and I’m fairly good at it, but writing doesn’t capture the way I see the world in the way I want it to. I’ve always been drawn to painting because I feel like I would be able to capture the beauty of the world better with images than words.

The thing is, I’m 22 and I don’t think I’ve painted anything since elementary school.

I’ve mentioned this a few times to my boyfriend, especially when I see a painting I love. The other day he bought me an easel he found at a garage sale. He knows I don’t paint. He knows moneys tight and yet he chose to get me something I possibly wouldn’t ever touch for the sake of getting me started. Tbh, it worked. It gave me a push and I bought my first paint brushes and pigment today.

I wanted to start with watercolor. I know it’s a difficult medium but I do really love watercolor. I knew I’d be bad at it so I bought the cheapest materials I could find because that’s what I’ve always done with new hobbies.

This time though, I didn’t have a little voice in my head telling me I’d just give it up. That it’d be a passing hobby. I sat down tonight (after a few glasses of wine) and just started painting what was in front of me.

And you know what I realized?

I fucking suck lmao

It’s a horrible little painting but it made me so happy. I didn’t get frustrated when the color started to bleed more than I wanted or when I realized too late that I didn’t get a water safe pen. I just made my tan rabbit a black one and kept going. Then I started another one (I got really little canvases) and let the shapes I had planned turn to little blobs of color.

I didn’t get frustrated. I didn’t get upset. I just made a mental note for next time to get water safe pens and to not use so much water.

For next time

I truly think this is the first time in my life that I’m ok with being bad, because I’m happy. I’m so proud of myself for taking that step and I’ve already seen progress in my very new skill.

Would my tiny little paintings horrify an experienced painter? Absolutely. But I don’t care. I love that I don’t care.

Foraging

really helpful technique ^ once you know how to divide by halves and thirds it makes drawing evenly spaced things in perspective waaay easier:

She kicked off from the wall and plunged, swooped on the rope, was caught. Again, she kicked back, soared, bounced into the cliff. It was a slow-motion fall, stop-motion, stop-start. She was a jerky pendulum, trajectory prescribed by the taut line of the rope.

Part 1: The room was quiet. Night had long since fallen. It lay thick in the corners. The floor was grey with moon shadows. Nothing stirred. She was still awake.

Something crept outside. It crept without moving. She heard no sound, saw no figure. Still she knew it was there. It snuffed about the window, seeking. Was there a chip in her defences? The slightest crack to seep through? It would find it. Like dark water, it pressed against her. She felt it, cold and inexorable. Her cottage wouldn't hold. It was no fortress. She was no general, had no army. She would falter before daybreak.

She kicked off from the wall and plunged, swooped on the rope, was caught. Again, she kicked back, soared, bounced into the cliff. It was a slow-motion fall, stop-motion, stop-start. She was a jerky pendulum, trajectory prescribed by the taut line of the rope.