The day that watercolour called me

The Day Watercolour Called to Me

It was a glorious, sun-drenched morning in Barnoldswick, the kind that fills the air with a fresh, vibrant energy. After dropping my eldest son and daughter off at Gisburn Road School, I continued my peaceful stroll, my two-year-old daughter nestled comfortably in her pushchair. My destination, as it often was during my maternity leave, was the library – a sanctuary where I'd eagerly devour books on the art of painting. This daily ritual had become a quiet quest, a yearning to understand the magic of creation.

As I rounded the corner towards the grand Civic Hall, my attention was abruptly captured by a notice board just outside. Bold letters announced: "Art Exhibition by Patricia Jones." A jolt of curiosity shot through me; I felt an immediate, undeniable pull to enter. With a determined push, I guided the pram up the steps, then carefully navigated the heavy twin doors. Through an open doorway, glimpses of vibrant colours beckoned from the lounge, a selection of paintings peeking invitingly. I paused, a momentary apprehension about bringing a baby in a pram into such a space, but the allure was too strong to resist.

Stepping into the room, an overwhelming sense of awe washed over me. Before me were truly magnificent pieces of art, each stroke radiating skill and beauty. The artist, Pat Jones, sat quietly to the left, behind a small desk. Our eyes met, and I offered a hesitant smile. She responded with a warm "hello," inviting me to explore the paintings at my leisure.

I began to move slowly around the room, each watercolour drawing me in with its intricate detail. I was utterly blown away by her artistic skill. I must have appeared captivated, almost perplexed, as I tried to fathom how anyone could create such breath-taking art. What truly fascinated me was the translucency of the paint on the paper – a quality I'd never seen before in such a profound way. I'd heard whispers that watercolour was arguably the most challenging medium to master, yet this knowledge didn't deter me; instead, it fuelled an intense desire to learn everything about it.

My mum, a talented oil painter herself, had always recognized my budding interest in art and had generously given me some of her oil paints. I'd enjoyed experimenting with them, and I remember telling Pat that I'd been using oils. It was then that she shared a piece of information that would forever alter my path: she attended a watercolour class in Utley taught by the renowned Arthur Craven.

Leaving that small exhibition, I felt utterly transformed – inspired and ravenously hungry to absorb every last secret of watercolour painting. To this day, almost four decades later, I remain just as curious, just as amazed by the way the paint dances across the paper. That was 38 years ago, and now, watercolour painting isn't just a passion; it's my livelihood. Soon, I'll be launching a series of online classes, in a wider bid to share the very magic that first captivated me.