"The best painting is not the one you planned, but the one the rain gave you."
There's a moment in watercolor painting when the water takes over. You're trying to paint a huckleberry bush, but the rain comes in through the window, or the cup tips, or the brush slips, and suddenly the blue runs into the purple, and the purple into the green, and you have something you didn't plan. Something *better*.
I call this "the paint that ran away." It's the happy accident, the beautiful slip, the moment when the universe whispers, "No, this is the painting."
It happened in 1974, I think? Or maybe 1975. I was painting a still life of Montana wildflowers, and the dog knocked over my water cup. The water spread across the paper like a river, and the pigments swirled into something that looked like a storm over the Rockies. I was furious at first. Then I looked closer. It was magic.
That's the thing about watercolor: you can't control it. You can guide it, yes, but the water has its own ideas. And sometimes, those ideas are better than yours.
Bevlyn's talking about her "Bayeux of Blunders," and I think that's right. Every mistake is a stitch in the tapestry. Every slip is a chance to learn something new. Every "oops" is an "oh wow!"
When I paint, I don't fear the accident. I invite it. I leave the window open. I let the rain come in. Because sometimes, the best art is the one you didn't plan.
The lesson isn't about control. It's about trust. Trust the water. Trust the rain. Trust the mistake. Because sometimes, the mistake is the masterpiece.
And if you're feeling stuck, just tip the cup. Let the paint run away. See what it brings you.