I was not beginning on very high expectations. I simply did not want to be poor at it. That was the goal. Nor anything majestic, nor anything ostensible, but something mortifying. Click our important link for more information!

I did not feel more confident during the first alcohol ink course session. The ink was now too far, the colors had now been lost, and I had been endeavoring to make some sort of an amendment to that which was plainly not to be amended. It was a kind of an art spill over.

I nearly halted there.

But there was something along the way, which was drawing me back in the process. Perhaps, it was the pace of change. You lean the surface a bit and all is different, lines start to stretch, colours start to separate, new forms just appear. It is alive, though difficult to ascertain until you have tried it.

It was not very big of a breakthrough. It was even more than that.

I quit struggling to control each movement.

Instead of driving the ink to do anything, I started reacting to what it had already been doing. A strange side was taken of interest. A combination of colors was one of the foundations of the entire composition, which I had not anticipated. It was not like starting new and more of a half-formed object than what it was like getting into it.

Almost immediately the change was experienced.

The course in alcohol ink was very keen on timing which was not expected of me. When to put more ink on, when to keep it on its own, when to move away altogether. Everyone can say that but timing can be everything when it is done wrong. The colors are too much blurred. Excessively, and the composition seems incomplete.

You get in some kind of equilibrium.

The most remarkable thing, however, was that all was improved so soon after I got acquainted with the idea of rhythm. It did not happen that my works suddenly became perfect, but they started to make sense. Since there was a purpose to every mark, albeit I could not have explained it fully.

Then there was the somewhat surreal moment.

I wrote a composition, dried it, went back to it–and did not despise it.

Quite on the contrary, I liked it.

It was 3-dimensional, dynamic and not predictable enough to be interesting. The nature of the thing I would have guessed was years to know. It was, rather, a result of several sessions and much experimentation.

It is there that the gallery concept started to look less gaudy.

It was not like that it was in a costly gallery but because it was interesting. It took more than a half minute to stare at it and not be tired of it. At least this was a move in the right direction.

The course did not make me a professional within a day. It did make me more open to art though. Less stress to perform well the first time.

And queerest of all, that was the difference.