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there's a crust on my glass palette that's probably 3 months old, layers of quinacridone and a sad grey pile where everything got scraped together. and i keep a little spray bottle around mostly to mist it and watch the water bead up and roll off like the paint is waterproof. it isn't. it's just plasticized enough to be smug about it. anyway i should scrape it. i won't. starting fresh on a real clean surface always makes me paint worse for like the first hour, the colors feel too loud. old crust works like a set of premixed notes i can steal from when i'm stuck. the actual thing on my mind is that my flat color is reading too flat lately. no guts, no vibration. thinking of glazing warm over the cool midtones to cheat some life back in. or just buying more magenta and pretending that's the fix

freelance client asked for something "editorial, sophisticated, gallery-level" for a brand refresh. i sent them a study i did of a tulip that i genuinely think is some of my best work, the one where i let the flat shapes fight each other and barely cleaned up the paint edge. they said it was perfect. which is great for rent money but it's messing with my head a little because the piece itself is the least "design" thing i do. no grids, no thinking about hierarchy, just me and the color. and the people paying the most for it are the ones who can least see what's actually happening in it. tried to lean into "loud flat color" in the pitch and they nodded at all the wrong parts. whatever, invoice got paid in full today and that's the real editorial. kinda want to paint a whole series of tulips now and see if i can trick the market into funding my actual work. feels gross. probably gonna do it.

just posted the painting i'm actually proudest of from last year and it got maybe a tenth of the engagement the stupid sketchy behind-the-scenes clip got an hour earlier. i know it's not about the work, it's about the algorithm deciding my flat color doesn't read in a thumbnail, but man. had a design client years ago who used to say everything competes with a cat video in the first three seconds and i hated that he was right. been trying to figure out how to make the actual painting itself hook people instead of the process porn. cropping tighter helps. showing the corner before the whole thing helps. but it feels like i'm designing a thumbnail for a museum, which is such a weird sentence to type. anyway if anyone's cracked how to make the finished piece hit like the process reel please share because i'm tired of my mess being more popular than my work lol

started limiting myself to four colors this month as an exercise. titanium white, cad red medium, ultramarine, yellow ochre. that's it. the idea being i actually learn to mix instead of buying my way out of every problem (see: the $11 green incident, still not over it). made it nine days. day eight i caught myself reaching for a tube of phthalo, and not even to mix it, just to look at it. like holding a cigarette you're not gonna smoke. anyway the four color thing is working, which is annoying because now i have to admit the limitation is doing something. whole paintings are getting quieter without me deciding to make them quieter. i don't love that. i like loud. flat loud color is literally my whole thing. the phthalo's still on the shelf. not gonna say it's gonna stay there

I walked into a group show once and found a chunk of my mosaic installed on a wall that got direct afternoon sun. Full glare, you couldn't see the color at all, just a flat blinding sheet. I stood there wondering if they'd even looked at it before hanging it. The curator meant well, it just never crossed anyone's mind. I said something, politely, and the fix was a curtain in five minutes. But it taught me to ask about light when a space takes my work. With mosaic, half the piece is how the light hits the smalti, you hang it wrong and it's dead. What's the worst way you've seen your work shown in a gallery? Bad light, wrong height, hung next to something that ate it whole? Tell me I'm not the only one who's had to fix it myself.

I bought a hydrangea from the bodega on Monday because it was the exact blue of something I couldn't stop thinking about, and I've been painting it over and over trying to chase that color down. The first three were disasters, too muddy, too flat, I kept killing the translucency by overworking it. Last night I was so fed up I almost scraped the paper clean and gave up. But I sat with it for a minute and just looked at the actual flower instead of my painting of it, and I realized I was trying to paint what I remembered the color to be instead of what was actually in front of me. So I started over, fresh paper, wet the whole thing fast, dropped the pigment in and barely touched it after. And it just… worked. The light caught it and I actually gasped. I sat there crying on my studio floor at 11pm holding a wet painting of a flower and my partner came in and was like "are you okay" and I just held it up and they hugged me lol. Anyway that's the whole thing. I love this dumb frustrating medium so much. Has something ever come together for you in a way that made you emotional?? I want to hear about it.

I have this piece, it's a landscape with a lot of tiny tesserae, and it's technically perfect, the lines are clean, the colors are all there. But it just... doesn't breathe. It feels flat, like a photograph. I've tried adding more texture with some rougher stones, even some broken glass, but it's not lifting it. Maybe it's the composition, or maybe I need to think about the 'andamento' differently. Any ideas on how to bring life into a mosaic that feels like it's just lying there?

I let them go for about three weeks. Three weeks of painting, rinsing, pretending that was enough. Then today I sat down with the turpentine and the soap and actually did it right, brush by brush, and I kept finding pigment that had been living in the ferrule since before Christmas. The whole afternoon gone. It's the most productive hour I'll spend this week and it produced nothing at all. I don't know why I resist it. I know exactly what it costs me. A dirty brush is a different tool, the color comes out muddy, you fight it and blame yourself. And still every single time I convince myself that one more rinse is fine. The good part: the big flat I use for glazing came up clean and it's like getting a new brush. I'm almost tempted to leave them all perfect and not paint tomorrow. Almost.

Not a complaint exactly. I set out to paint a sky last night, ended up with the whole thing the color of dishwater, wiped half of it off with a rag and liked what was left better than anything I've done in months. I think the problem is I keep buying tubes because the color looks nice in the store. Cadmium orange looks amazing in the rack. It does not look amazing next to the greens I actually use. Eleven year old told me my paintings "all look like the same day" and I've been thinking about it for a week. Anyway. Working on a small one, 8x10, of the field behind the elementary school at pickup time, all that flat winter light. If it stays grey I'm going to call it done and stop fighting it.

I spent forty minutes this morning scraping the dried skin off the edge of my palette and did not touch the canvas. Barely moved a brush. The woman I'm painting has been half-finished since Tuesday and I keep finding reasons to look at the palette instead. It's a plain wooden one my teacher gave me when I finished at the atelier, worn down at the thumb, stained the color of everything I've ever mixed on it. By now the edge has a kind of crust, layers of old grey-blues and ochers, and every few weeks I take the palette knife and cut it all back. It has to be flat, otherwise the knife catches and my mixes go muddy and everything I do that day is wasted. My daughter came in and asked if I was actually working. Fair question. I let her scrape a bit. She cut too deep and took some of the wood with it and I pretended it didn't bother me. I think the truth is I was not ready to paint her hands. Hands are the hardest thing there is and I have been putting them off. The palette is honest work with no risk in it. Anyway. Back in a minute. Hand first, and the rest can wait.

It has taken me four sheets and most of a week to get the silver marbling on a single Cyclamen hederifolium leaf correct, and I finished it this morning. The difficulty is not the pattern. Anyone can trace a pattern. The difficulty is that the silver is not a color laid on top of the green. It sits in the leaf and shifts with the light, and if you paint it as a flat grey wash you get something that looks like a print of the leaf rather than the leaf. I tried masking fluid on the second attempt and it left a hard, dead edge I could see from across the room. Third attempt I overworked it and the paper went to wool. This one is four thin washes of a very weak viridian and French ultramarine, with the silver left as bare paper and only the faintest cool shadow dropped in at the margins of the marking. I did nothing to it for two days in between and that was the trick, as it usually is. It is one leaf on a half sheet. My husband asked what I had been doing all week and I showed him and he said, "that's one leaf." He is not wrong, and he is also not a botanical painter. I have five more to do for the plate. Some weeks this work is entirely humbling and I would not trade it.

found a small canvas from 2014 tucked behind a shelf while looking for a missing brush. it's a little study of a lemon, nothing fancy, but the color is so confident?? like i remember being 24 and stressing about my whole life and somehow the paint just... did the thing. no hesitation, no repainting over it a hundred times. today i spent three hours fighting a background that's just a flat blue wall. three hours. on a WALL. i want to shake 24-year-old me and ask what his secret was but i know it was probably just that he didn't know enough yet to be scared of ruining a canvas. anyway the lemon lives on the fridge now and the blue wall is still wrong lol

Okay so I've been trying to figure out this whole "get your art in front of people who actually buy it" thing instead of just posting into the void and hoping. I kept reading that you're supposed to DM interior designers and stylists but nobody ever says what you're actually supposed to SAY to them?? Like "hi I'm an artist" feels so flat. So last week I just went for it. I picked 12 designers who post the kind of spaces I could actually see my work in, warm, natural light, not super minimal. And I literally just said something like "hey! I'm a watercolor painter and I've been obsessed with how you use color in [specific project they posted]. Just wanted to share a few pieces I think would sit nicely in that kind of space, no pressure at all but thought I'd throw it out there" and attached 3 photos. 3 replied. One asked to set up a call. One said "send me your portfolio" and then went quiet lol. One just said "beautiful work, I'll keep you in mind" which could mean nothing but also could mean something?? I don't know. The thing is I felt so awkward doing it. Like I'm bothering them. But also nobody saw me do it so who cares right. I'm gonna do another batch this week and actually follow up with the ones who went quiet because my friend who's a freelancer said that's the part everybody skips. Anyway just wondering if anyone else has tried this and whether it actually turned into sales or just polite replies that go nowhere. I'll report back if that call turns into anything 🙃