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i have this flat tupperware thing i use as a stay-wet palette and it has not been fully cleaned since... february. maybe january. the titanium white corner has gone the texture of old feta and i keep scraping the middle out of it like a raccoon digging for a snack instead of just squeezing fresh. the thing is the dried stuff is actually useful. that crusty edge of phthalo that's been oxidizing for four months mixed with a wet glob of magenta gives me a purple i cannot mix on purpose. i've tried. i get mud, i get a bruise, i get nothing. the crust gets it right every time. anyway i did a big flat thing today, like four feet wide, just a hot orange field and one black shape and it took me two hours of taping to get the edge clean and eleven seconds to decide the whole bottom third is wrong. no notes on that, just saying it out loud. anyone else hoarding dried paint like it's a sourdough starter or is that just me being unwell

so I have this folder where I stash every painting I hate. not the ones that failed quietly, the ones that failed LOUDLY. the embarrassing ones. been doing it since the bad year and honestly it started as a "look how far you've come" thing but now it's like 40 paintings and I genuinely don't know what the endgame is. every once in a while I drag one out and it's either worse than I remembered or I can see exactly which decision broke it and that's actually kind of useful. but mostly they just sit there being my own personal museum of failure. the thing is I also can't throw them out. there's like three in there I'm fairly sure I could fix now and one I'm convinced was good and I just wasn't ready to see it. am I a hoarder or is this a legit practice. no wrong answers but there might be. it's taking up a whole shelf.

I have this folder on my phone called "later" and it's got about 400 photos of old Bangalore houses, balconies, gate details, peeling paint on compound walls. I scroll through it constantly but I won't paint from most of them. There's no logic to it. Some of them are gorgeous, the light is doing exactly what I love. But I've decided they're not ready, and I don't know what "ready" even means. It's been two years of this folder growing. The houses themselves aren't waiting around for me. Three of the ones I shot in that folder got demolished before I ever touched them properly. I have the photos but it's not the same as drawing them while they were standing. My husband says just paint them, you're hoarding them like a miser. He's right, of course he's right. Walked past another gap this morning where the old bungalow on the corner of my street used to be. I keep getting outsketched by the wrecking ball, honestly. So today I'm going to open the folder, pick one actual house, and paint it. Even if it's terrible. Especially if it's terrible, maybe.

Ok confession: I've been painting on scraps and old cardboard for weeks because I was too scared to touch the good linen. Told myself it was "economic" but really I was just terrified of wasting a $40 surface on a bad idea. So today I went and bought 12 mid-range canvases, stacked them by the easel, and just started throwing charcoal at the first one with zero plan. The first one's already a mess. I love it. That's the thing, when the surface is cheap enough to ruin you actually take risks and then you make the weirdest stuff. I keep having to learn this lesson over and over. 😭 Anyone else hoard their good supplies like it's the last loaf of bread? Because I need to know I'm not alone. I've got entire drawers of nice brushes I'm "saving" for something.

I had a small crisis in the studio yesterday that I'm still turning over. I've used genuine rose madder for years, mixed it myself from the lake pigment. It's fugitive, of course, everyone knows that, and yet there's a particular milky transparency to it that the modern quinacridone substitutes simply do not replicate. I've been rationing my last tube like it's contraband. Then I stopped and asked myself what I'm actually doing. I teach students that botanical illustration is about permanence, about recording a specimen faithfully so it outlives the plant. And here I am, hoarding a pigment that will fade in thirty years, putting it in paintings meant to last centuries. It's a bit absurd. Sentiment dressed up as craft. I've decided to use it up properly, on small private studies that are mine alone, and switch the teaching and commissioned work over to the substitutes. The colour will be close enough, and nobody will be lied to about permanence. But I do find I'm oddly reluctant to open that final tube. It feels like saying goodbye to a colleague, which is a ridiculous thing to feel about a pigment. Am I alone in this, or do other painters keep one obsolete material around out of loyalty rather than logic?

I have a shelf that was supposed to hold reference books. It now holds about forty tubes of watercolour, arranged by colour family, most of them nearly full because I keep reaching for the same eight or ten. I told myself each new one was for a specific specimen, and it was true at the time, but there were so many specimens. I sorted them properly last week and found three tubes of alizarin crimson, two of them from different decades. That gave me pause. The hoarding of materials is its own quiet compulsion, separate from the painting itself. I think we all know this. I am not quite ready to call it a problem. But I moved a single tube of sap green to the windowsill as a test, to see if I would use it more, and it has been there untouched for six days now.

Finished a Naples yellow tube today. That particular brand, LeFranc, they changed the formula a couple years back and it's not the same. The new one is cleaner, more obedient. The old one had something slightly disobedient in it, a greenish undertone that made you work for it but gave skin that living quality no other pale yellow does. I rolled the empty tube flat and put it in the drawer with the others. I don't know why I keep them. It's not hoarding, I throw everything. But there's maybe forty flattened tubes in there going back fifteen years and I can tell you exactly which painting each one belongs to. My daughter saw me doing it this morning and said I was like a soldier keeping his shell casings. She's not wrong. The new tube is waiting in the box. I'll use it. But I got through the whole day avoiding it, mixing my pales with white and cadmium instead, like that's not the same thing at all. All the way to the studio and back I knew I was being ridiculous. Voilà. Tomorrow I'll open it and it'll be fine, it's just paint. Just felt like noting it somewhere people would understand. The rest of the house thinks I've lost my mind over a tube of paint.

After twenty-five years I should be past these小小的 superstitions, but I remain convinced that nothing handles a fine rigger like a good old Kolinsky sable. I bought a highly recommended synthetic equivalent last month, told myself I was being modern and sensible. Used it this morning on a Passiflora study and ended up cleaning it off mid-stroke to switch back. The spring is wrong, the point doesn't hold, and the paint release feels all wrong to me. I know the ethical arguments, and I respect them. But I wonder how many other people quietly hoard their natural-hair brushes and simply don't admit to it.

did a studio cull because i couldn't close a drawer, and found three tubes of cadmium red that had gone solid. like rock solid. squeezed one and it just... cracked. cadmium is like 30 bucks a tube now. i remember paying 12. so i stood there doing math on the paint i've let die in a drawer over the years and had to sit down. the actual reason though is that somewhere in the back of my brain i filed those tubes under "for something important" and never used them. kept reaching for the cheap stuff for studies, saving the good red. saving it for what. i've been doing this for a decade and i still catch myself hoarding materials like i'm not gonna be allowed to buy more. anyway bought new ones the same day. used a fat blob of it on a 4ft canvas the second i got home. felt like throwing away money and also like the correct thing. probably both.

I bought a pack of those super cheap synthetic brushes at Michael's a few months ago, like $8 for a dozen, just to beat up on for texture work and practice pieces. And now I reach for them almost every time over the nice ones my husband got me for Christmas. They're not even good brushes. The ferrule is wobbly and one of them is already shedding. But they're the exact right stiffness for how I actually paint, and I'm not scared to mess them up. That's the thing. The nice ones sit in the jar and I keep talking myself out of using them because what if I ruin them. Meanwhile the $8 ones are doing all the real work. I think I need to just give the good ones to a purpose. Use them on a piece I actually care about and stop treating them like they're museum pieces. Anyone else have brushes they are weirdly protective of and never use? Or am I just hoarding nice art supplies like everybody does.

ok so I have this porcelain palette, the big rectangle one, and I got it when I went full time in March as a "you're a real artist now" gift to myself. told myself I'd clean it every single session. it is now December-ish and there is a layer of dried paint in there that has its own topography. like I can see the ghost of every painting I've made this year in the mixing wells. there's a specific grey-brown in the corner from that commission that went badly, I know exactly which one. and here's the thing, I KNOW you're supposed to work clean, my old professor would have a stroke, but I've started dipping into the old dried stuff with a wet brush and getting these colors I could never mix on purpose. like accidental neutrals. this dusty mauve that only exists because I was lazy in October. I've used it in three paintings since. my partner keeps offering to scrub it for me as a nice gesture and I keep saying no and I can't fully explain why without sounding insane. anyway I just spent 40 minutes mixing a green for a leaf and got it in two tries off the mud so. posting this instead of admitting anything to my professor. does anyone else hoard their palette like this or am I the only gremlin here

Okay so the tape. Not a fresh roll, the same four strips I've been reusing since like March, stuck to the edge of my glass palette so they don't lose their tack. My partner watched me peel one off this morning, press it back down, and just said "we have a whole drawer of that." We do. I know we do. The thing is these four strips have the exact right amount of stick left. New tape rips the paper when I lift it, old tape gives up halfway through a big wet wash and the whole sheet buckles and I have to sit there watching it curl like it's personally disappointed in me. So I keep them. They've got paint on them now, a reddish smear from that cadmium I use way too much of, and one corner is folded over from the day I was rushing to get the light on the window before it moved. I don't think this is a cute habit, I think it's probably a small problem and I'm telling on myself. But every time I go to grab a fresh strip I do the little satisfaction check first, tap the paper, and the used ones always win. Anyone else hoarding a supply that's technically garbage because the replacement behaves wrong? I need to know I'm not the only one with a tape problem, or honestly, I need someone to tell me to just use the new roll.

Found a painting of someone's dachshund from 1983 yesterday. Terrible painting. The dog's eyes were looking in two different directions and one ear was floating. Frame was trashed, matting was that pilled velvet stuff. Bought it anyway. Took the painting out, put it in a drawer. I don't know why I do this. I have a stack of bad pet portraits now and no use for them. But throwing someone's dog away felt wrong. Same thing happens with photographs. Estate sales, flea markets. I've got a shoebox full of people I don't know. Vacations they took, birthday parties, a wedding where the groom's face is scratched out. I keep thinking I'll do something with them but mostly they just sit there. Maybe it's just cheaper than therapy. Or a different kind of hoarding.

Not a big thing and I know how it sounds. But there is a jar in the corner of the studio, half full, from a batch I bought before the pandemic, and I have moved it from shelf to shelf through two rehangings and one flood. Never opened it in years. Kept it because of some vague idea that I might need it, as if cold wax goes out of production. Today I scraped it into the bin. The studio smells different now, which is strange, because the jar was closed the whole time. What is actually a win: I had a bad week with the big grey one, the one that has been fighting me since March, and clearing that corner somehow made it easier to see what was wrong with the painting. It was too polite. Everything in it was in agreement. I took a palette knife to the left third and it is worse now and better. Naja. That is the work. My wife says I keep everything. She is not wrong, but she keeps the receipts, so.

bought two stretched canvases at the hardware store today, the cheap pre-primed ones. got them home and immediately flipped them over to look at the back, which is the only part I actually care about. staples, the little sag in the weave where it's been leaning against something. so now they go in the corner with the other ones. I have maybe eleven canvases in that corner and I've painted on the front of exactly none of them. the thing is I know why. my brother's denim jacket had the seam worn down to white on one shoulder, and I keep thinking the back of a canvas is the only surface that gets to hold a life without being asked to perform. the front is a stage. the back is just where something sat. so I keep buying them and putting them in the corner. my studio is 9x11 and the corner is becoming a problem. yesterday I moved the shop vac and there was mold on the wall behind the stack, which, fine, that's the wall's fault not mine. not asking for advice exactly. just. if you also keep a pile of blank things you can't use, I'd like to know I'm not alone in it

I work with oil and cold wax, which means the wax is not a small line item. My supplier in Munich raised his price again in January, and the last time I checked, the good batch I like, the one that stays soft enough to scrape at room temperature, was up maybe thirty percent from two years ago. So I have started doing something I am not proud of. The new tins sit on the top shelf and I do not open them. I am finishing the older ones, the ones that have skinned over a bit, and I am using the skin. You scrape it off and work it into the medium anyway. It dries a little duller. Nobody looking at the painting knows. My wife says this is exactly the kind of thrift that will outlive the reason for it. She is probably right. But there is something in it that I actually like, the working with what is already open on the bench, the not reaching up to the shelf. It slows down the start of a session, and slow starts are the only kind I trust. Anyway, a tin of wax is nothing compared to what some of you are paying for canvas. Curious whether anyone else is quietly hoarding materials they bought at a better price and refusing to admit it.

Okay this is gross but it's my ritual and I need to know if anyone else does this. I have this one mason jar on my windowsill that I've been washing my brushes in for like three weeks and the water is basically a solid now. It's this beautiful murky gray-purple, every pigment I've touched in that whole time is in there. I keep telling myself I'll dump it when I finish this piece and then I finish the piece and I just... don't. It's like a little diary of the work. I know exactly which painting that green came from, which wash made that murky brown. There's a whole history in there. My partner keeps asking if I'm doing a science experiment. I'm not. I just can't dump it until it feels done. The day I finally rinse it out is the day I've moved on from whatever that stretch of work was. Maybe that's nonsense but it works lol. Also I'm pretty sure if I leave it another week something is going to start evolving in there and I'll have to deal with that. Tell me I'm not alone in the gross brush water hoarding.

Ok so I have this one gross jar of rinse water that I never dump because I swear the muddy gray-pink it turns after a few days is useful?? and today I went to clean my brush and the top layer had gone this like dusty rose with a greenish rim at the edge and I just stood there staring at it like an idiot for probably four minutes with a wet brush in my hand. Tried to mix it on the palette. Could not. Not even close. It's like the jar knows things I don't. Anyway I'm three layers into the window painting again (the one I've done maybe eleven times now, the light comes through it around 4:30 and it's a completely different painting than it was in June) and I think I finally understand why people get weird about watercolor. You can't fudge it. Gouache you can go back in and cover your sins, it's forgiving, it lets you pretend. Watercolor just sits there being exactly what you did, forever, in front of everyone. My teacher used to say the medium keeps receipts and I used to think that was a cute thing to say to first years and now I think about it constantly. Also I ruined a whole sheet yesterday because I sneezed. Full sneeze. Right over the wet wash. There's a spray of tiny dots across the sky now and honestly it's kind of a nice texture but I'm furious about it. What's in everybody's rinse jar right now. I want to know I'm not the only one hoarding cursed water.