I staggered across the finish line of this watercolour cottage, or, as I now lovingly call it, “The House That Mud Built” after simultaneously too much and not enough time! What began as a charming little scene somehow devolved into a masterclass in murky washes, confused perspective, and the sort of frantic brushwork usually reserved for people painting during an earthquake.

The roof leans, the windows turned into prison bars, and the colours… well, let’s just say every hue eventually made friends in one big puddle of brown(ish) indecision.

But here’s the thing: I finished it.
My wobbly, overworked, slightly tragic cottage exists. And something about that feels oddly brilliant. If I can survive this chaotic masterpiece, I can absolutely survive the next one. Mistakes, muddiness, mayhem and all.

Onward to the next disaster-in-waiting. I can’t wait.

For further hilarious insights to my painting… Check out the Ramblings link.