To be honest, I assumed ink painting would be a frisky, maybe messy hobby that needed just paper, a brush, and odd squiggles. I miffed it. I hooked up one week into my first best online ink painting classes. Nobody told me that spreading black paint on rice paper could be so contemplative and compulsive. The room grew quiet. My jittery dog stopped too to observe.
The teacher moved his brush first day like a magician waving a wand. Let your wrist go free, he said. I tried to copy him, but my wrist turned to jelly and my first lines seemed fit on a toddler’s wall. I giggled. One could afford to make mistakes. My failing mountains and slick trees started to take shape soon. After ink-stained mistake, I began to see a beat. The process seemed alive, as though the brush chose its own road.
We worked on quick, hungry strokes. Later on, the instructor showed us how to feather-light and slow down the brush across the page. The ink bleeds occasionally quite dramatically. It occasionally sits as sharp as the whisker of a cat. Not having total control gives one an excitement. Another letdown is a drop splatter where you least want it. I learnt to dismiss it and just turn my “oops” into a bush, stone, or cloud. Strangely enough, my best work resulted from unplanned events.
By the third session, I painted a crab scuttling beside a pond. His legs looked exactly perfect, but his shell was wobbly. My next work was a half-dreamlike, winds-driven bamboo grove. My fave is An abstract mountain range fashioned by my clumsy hand and one unintentional coffee ring. While some claim art reveals your mind, ink drawing lets my travel, leap, wander free.
Ink painting could surprise you if you have ever desired to change your technique or tame a brush. It is more forgiving than one might think. Most of my pupils began their journey confused and squinting. A few sessions later, you would mistake them for elderly pros shaking out graceful herons and lightning bolts. Along with improved brushwork, I also carried some new friends and a fresh approach to pour ideas into a blank sheet.
You will become messy, for sure. But, if you let yourself play, you will cherish every minute. “Don’t be precious,” my teacher’s parting words stayed with me. Create wildness. Right now, my kitchen wall frames my coffee-ring mountains—a daily reminder that art is not about perfection. It’s about trying, failing, and occasionally coming upon something rather remarkable. Try it and let the ink guide you to areas you never would have thought of.