The Most Valuable Lesson You Can Learn

I wanted to open my book with a story that has a powerful lesson as essential to understand and practice as the questions and answers in this book – if not more essential.  You can read this book and a hundred other books and learn a great deal about watercolor.  If you keep the knowledge in your head and never apply it because you are afraid to make a mistake, take a risk, take action and confront your inner critics, you will never paint.

The Story Goes Like This . . .

Mary, a beginner in my evening watercolor class, was a poet.  She was exceptionally knowledgeable about the arts and an extremely interesting person whom I enjoyed having in class.  She painted exactly what she wanted and rarely used a photograph for reference.  I often wondered what went through her mind while she was painting these fascinating paintings; they looked kind of like folk art.

Then one day I won an award in the American Watercolor Society’s annual exhibit.  A friend and I decided to fly to New York City to attend the awards dinner to receive my award.  It thrilled us to see the show, and we were ecstatic about being in New York.   We took in as many of the galleries and art museums we possibly could, soaking in all the art.  It was a stimulating and rejuvenating trip for both of us.

In my first evening class after our return, Mary handed me a small painting.  It was a beautiful landscape of what looked like a little pond, and she said to me with great pride, “Look what I did while you were gone!”  It was like nothing she had ever painted before.  I praised her on what a wonderful job she did and told her how proud I was of her.  I thought the painting was a done deal—finished.  Obviously, Mary did not think so.  “I wanted to ask your opinion on something first before I did it.  I was thinking about putting a whale in the middle of the pond.  What do you think?”

Speechless, it took me a moment before I could respond.  “God, help me come up with something,” I prayed.  I thought of all the art I had seen in the New York museums—old mattresses hanging from the ceiling and wrapped in bungee cords, a black hearse covered with tar and all sorts of objects stuck to it at the Whitney Museum of American Art, the Metropolitan Museum of Art, the Guggenheim, the Museum of Modern Art.

God knows how much time I took to respond, but the question that came to me was, “What is art all about anyway?”  I realized, at that moment, that there really are no rules.  Critiquing Mary’s work would have stopped the creative process of expressing what she wanted to express.  Who am I to tell anyone what or how she should express anything?  It was her painting, and I handed it back to her.  “Mary, put the whale in!”

There are no real rules or formulas (however, I do help my students who want rules, so don’t worry).  I didn’t care if Mary wanted to put Big Bird in the middle of the pond.  She had the guts and confidence to express herself.  She put the whale in.  Mary had no rules.

I have told that story to my other classes and workshops—and it has stuck.  I have heard them shouting across the room, “Oh, put the whale in!”  And some of t have painted whale paintings.

The Lesson Is . . .

Are you having a problem taking a risk because you are afraid of making a mistake?  Do you hear that voice saying to you, “I wonder what would happen if?”  Go ahead.

PUT THE WHALE IN!

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