Ink Paintings have completely changed my view of art. It used to be that my art was like a flat pancake. It lacked depth and zing. This course wasn’t a mere notch added to my artistic resume. The palette was filled with vivid colors and endless options. Article source!

The first time I went to the first grade, I remember my hands shaking like they were about to defuse bombs. Blank canvas and a collection of ink brush sets are both intimidating. Our instructor made the class feel like a game. “There are no right and wrongs here. Just happy accidents,” said our instructor, who was a quirky man with a contagious laugh.

The first lesson I learned was about fluidity, or how ink moves across a canvas. My first attempts were like a drunken Spider Web. I laughed off the incident, however, because life isn’t complete without a touch of humor. Each stroke seemed to be a new experience, but as I continued, I saw a pattern.

One moment remains etched on my mind. We had to make a piece that was inspired by nature. The instructor told us to feel the bamboo with a bamboo brush. I thought he’d gone crazy. When I let go of the brush and closed my eyes, I felt something strange. The ink spread, like wild vines. Shapes were formed that appeared almost deliberate. I discovered a secret connection between my brain and my fingers.

The aha Moment Aha! The answer came when we tried layering techniques. My ink blossoms weren’t just sitting on the top; they seemed to pop, making you feel like you can pluck them out. It was as though the canvas transformed into a growing garden.