One hundred (unintentional) shades of grey

“Why is this oil paint behaving so badly on your canvas?” is not something you want to hear when you’re using the notoriously difficult medium for the first time in you life.

Read about the first class here: Exercising the artistic muscles I never knew I had

“I don’t know… How is it supposed to behave?” is my sheepish reply to Sian Zeederberg, my art teacher for the next five weeks.

She sweeps a dry brush across the fresh paint, frowning all the time. “This is behaving like acrylic. It’s already dry and chalky on your canvas!”

I know she’s talking to the paint vicariously through me, but I can’t help but feel like it was all my fault that the damn paint dried so quickly.

Sian scratches around in her cabinet and pulls out a bottle that looks like magic potion and places it next to my makeshift pallet (and by “makeshift” I mean a laminated paper).

“It’s artists’ turpentine and rosemary oil. It will make the paint flow, stick to the canvas and help make your transitions more crease-less.”

To freshen your memory, I chose to paint a whimsical tree as my very first canvas painting. The only reason I chose this subject was because I thought it would be simple, yet still leave enough room to slip in a few unnoticeable mistakes.

“What colour are you going to paint the background, my darling?” Another trick question. How does one know these things? I didn’t put too much thought into my answer. Again, simplicity is key. “What about dark grey?” I answered her question with a question. “Then the copper and gold tree will stand out against the background, which will still be a natural phenomenon. Dark clouds.” I impressed myself with my artist talk. Sian also seemed vaguely impressed.

I continued painting, with no graceful brush stroke, the large spaces on the canvas. I thought to fill the small corners and those evil curly branches with a smaller brush afterwards.

That was when Sian stepped in and changed the black paint I was using with another brand. It must have been the paint. It could not be my fault, because the new paint actually did glide over canvas effortlessly. Only in retrospect did I realise how tough and dry the previous paint was.

With my signatory red wine my left hand and Ben Howard playing to the whole class, I got lost in my world of grey.

“I really like how you’ve made the shades around your tree darker.” Sian startled me. “Are you going to make it dark around the tree and lighter towards the edge of the frame?”

I didn’t even realise that that was what I was doing. I answered confidently nonetheless, like I had been planning it all along. “Yes, I think it would make the tree really pop out at the viewer.” She smiled and shuffled away.

Once I got the hang of my own painting technique I became hypnotised by my activity. Everything in the world disappeared. I had no worries, no thought, nowhere I needed to be but right here, right now.

The three-hour session passed in what seemed to be like a few moments and I had to slowly drag my thoughts back to reality. My canvas still looked like an octopus got a fright right next to it, but Sian said my skills are improving. For the sake of peace and my own self-confidence, I’ll just say I believe her for now.