Brook & Bramble Art

This was one of those paintings. The kind where the initial sketch lulls you into a false sense of security. Everything was working. The proportions behaved. The lines made sense. I remember sitting back, looking at it, and thinking, oh… this might actually be good.

And then I started painting.

Despite every rational thought in my brain politely (and then not so politely) suggesting I slow down, I ignored it entirely and charged ahead. Colour went on too fast. Decisions were made mid-brushstroke. Shadows appeared wherever they fancied, with absolutely no regard for consistency. In this world, the sun doesn’t come from one direction, it spins wildly around the buildings just to keep things interesting.

The water was… ambitious. I had a vague idea of reflections, quickly realised I was in over my head, and then committed anyway. The result is less “gentle harbour shimmer” and more “abstract suggestion of liquid”. We’ll leave it at that.

This is another piece destined firmly for the never to be sold (or seen) vault. Not because it didn’t teach me anything, quite the opposite, but because it stands as a very clear reminder that a strong sketch doesn’t guarantee a successful painting if patience is abandoned halfway through.

Still, it served its purpose. It highlighted exactly where I rush, where I need to pause, and how quickly things unravel when I let excitement override control. It also reinforced the uncomfortable truth that watercolour has no interest in being hurried, no matter how convincing the sketch underneath might be.

So this one stays tucked away. A private lesson in slowing down, respecting light, and remembering that reflections, like confidence, need time to settle.

Onward, wiser, and hopefully a little less frantic next time.