I wrote this reflection a couple of years ago. Back then, I was just launching the blog, but my main hobby was still watercolour painting. I’ve since leaned more heavily into writing, but when this old draft resurfaced, it still felt resonant and true.
Perhaps even more so now, standing at the threshold of a great ending and peering into the unknown of a great beginning. As it happens, this publication date marks the last day of a nearly 13-year career in public practice accounting (at least, as I knew it).
Onward: Here’s what watercolour has taught me about embracing the chaos, releasing perfectionism, and finding joy in the messy middle — lessons that still guide me today.
Watercolour is notorious for being a bit chaotic, and I love it for that quality. Some artists master their medium with control and precision. Others embrace the medium’s chaotic nature completely, letting it shine and shape the subject of the painting.
Working with watercolour helped me see chaos differently — in art and in life.
Finding controlled chaos
In the process of breaking back into watercolour, I realized I’ve spent a lot of time trying to “control it,” despite the fact that one of the allures of watercolour is its natural tendency to do what it pleases.
I typically go in with an idea of what I want the painting to look like. Then, as I enter the notorious messy middle phase, panic sets in. It’s not looking how I had envisioned! I start frantically scrubbing my work (which involves trying to blot or lift colour with the brush — a reactive response to the unexpected). The colours start to muddy, the paper gets damaged, and the painting is soon overworked.
Kind of mirrors my day job, actually! In the metaphorical sense, that is — anxiously putting out fires, the sense of futility that comes from the uncontrollable, muddied priorities, and of course, the overworking.
Chaos is uncomfortable, and I instinctively try to minimize it. But in doing so, I miss the beauty that emerges from making it through the messy middle.
It’s not the chaos that causes all the trouble. It’s the act of trying to control it.
What I want is controlled chaos — to enjoy the unpredictable nature of watercolour and the beautiful abstractions that arise from it, but to then find an anchor, something recognizable from within it.
Of course, I can reduce the chaos with preparation. I can study watercolour techniques enough that I understand the likely outcomes, and then I can use those skills to channel the chaos into my vision, making it less “unpredictable”.
I realized that the more I fixate and try to control the uncontrollable, the more time I spend stuck in that moment, versus just experiencing it for what it is — a moment.
Embracing the chaos
That’s why, as I returned to work after maternity leave — now with two kids and a husband recovering from surgery — I decided it was time to embrace the chaos, rather than trying to control it.
In painting, I try to set myself up for success by knowing my water-to-paint ratio and wet-on-wet or wet-on-dry techniques. The trick (especially as a beginner) is just to try not to get too attached to a particular outcome. There’s a certain satisfaction that comes from allowing the painting to unfold, and seeing the unexpected beauty in the chaos.
In life, I have to try to appreciate each day as the exciting adventure that it is. I have a quote on the home screen of my phone that says, “I wonder what will happen today?”
Both involve a little inner learning: learning to have patience, and learning to see.
Releasing perfectionism
Despite being an accountant, I may not be very detail-oriented in the traditional sense. I can deal with detail, and I’ve learned to pay attention to detail for work, but beyond that I prefer to be approximate.
It might be a touch of impatience, but I tend to glaze over little imperfections in a painted wall, I don’t use measuring instruments when I cook, and I lack the patience for creating detailed artwork (at least for now).
I feel like watercolour allows this kind of freedom. Can you be detailed with it? Of course! But I also love the results when everything is approximate.
I want to carry this freedom from control and perfectionism with me into my daily life. I don’t know which comes first: anxiety, or a need for control, but I could do with letting go of both!
Working in watercolour is like a practice in letting go for the soul.
As a beginner, I don’t know where the colour is going to go. At this point, I don’t need to know. All I need to do is place the colour down, let it do its thing, see what happens, and repeat.
The release of colour on the page is a visual representation of the release of everything else: yesterday’s worries, today’s emotions, and tomorrow’s expectations.
There’s beauty in the chaotic artistry that watercolour can deliver, and a peace in knowing that it will find its form.
Release is my word of intention this year, and I had not bargained for how much I’d take it to heart!
I’ve spent so much of life up until now intentionally choosing paths that were well-trodden because they followed plans that were well-laid… Until this moment.
If life is a canvas, and we are the artists, then this year, I’m painting in watercolour.
Are you navigating your own creative journey? I’d love to walk with you! Every month, I write a letter offering creative encouragement and other little notes from my path. If you’d like to join, you can do so here.
