Ink Paintings was a journey that turned my artistic world on its head. See, my artwork used to be flat, lacking depth and zing. But this course wasn’t just another notch to my artistic belt. It was an entirely new palette with vibrant colors, and infinite possibilities. Get the facts?

I remember trembling my hands as I walked into first class. It was like I was going to defuse some kind of bomb. It’s strangely intimidating to have a blank canvas, and a few inkbrushes. Our instructor was a funny man who had a contagious smile. He made it seem like a play area. “There is no right or incorrect here, only happy accident,” he would say, trying his best to reduce tension by giving off Bob Ross vibes.

First, we learned about ink’s fluidity — its ability to dance across the canvas. My initial attempts resembled a drunken, spider-web. It was funny, but I didn’t take it seriously. What is life without a little self-deprecation? Each stroke felt uncharted, but gradually, I began to see a rhythm, a pattern.

A moment is etched into my memory. We were required to create a work inspired by the natural world. The instructor handed us bamboo brushes and told us, “Feel bamboo.” I thought that he was crazy. As I closed my eyelids and let the brush sway I felt an odd feeling. The ink spread as wild vines, creating shapes that were almost deliberate. I’d discovered a channel between my thoughts, and my hand.

The Aha moment Aha! Aha! My ink flowers didn’t just float on the surface, they actually popped and made me feel like I could pick them up. The canvas looked like a living, breathing garden.