Oh, rules. That thing I hate and yet love at the same time. As a perfectionist, I always thought I had to color inside the lines, but loved that push to break someone's control just enough. That little maniacal push. The immediately regret it and hate what I had done two minutes later.
Deep down, I knew I did better when I was breaking those rules. There were artists that I admired. I truly started to look into them, not the masters people reference, I'm still learning them. I started in a middle road. The rules were in the library and whatever the art teacher said. Which didn't help. When they say your work is "flat" but can't give you anything other than there is no dimension, as a kid tell me you weren't confused as fuck about what that meant. There is a place for teaching and a place for shitty crits. Teach the rules, learn the rules, and learn how to bend them to push boundaries. A lot of people use rules as a way to meet expectations, instead of building around them. Like a tree vine or branch. It conforms and then grows. You will never grow by sticking to rules, you grow by understanding and learning them, to branch from them, make your own connections and understand that creativity doesn't end with a list.
I learned that at a young age. I was that kid — the one who took the blue crayon and used it up, coloring like that in my coloring book. People, the flowers, the bumblebees — all of it. I was wild, free, unrestrained, just like my afternoons after school: playing checkers with my favorite opponent (who always beat me) while cinnamon sugar toast toasted away in the oven, courtesy of our babysitter. That was me as a little kid. Just being me, uncaged. Whose rules? My rules. And I destroyed that one blue crayon like I was making a statement. Don't get me wrong, there is house rules and art rules, break art rules you won't get grounded at least.
Fast forward to adulthood. Fewer things, more art supplies, and a renewed love for watercolor. I first fell for it in high school, but life got in the way. Now, finally, I’ve returned to it, and like anything else, I dove headfirst into groups hoping to find like-minded people. What I found was some seriously extremist views on watercolor. These rules were their ride or die, they were just as set on it. There were people who didn't see watercolor paintings as just that unless they only used the white of the paper. Pallettes over the base colors were unacceptable. The hellscape I came across in the world of social media was not even close what I had imagined.
There are those who worship rules, those who are clueless but sure they’re the best, and then there’s me. I don’t claim to be the best. Things change. Techniques evolve. Some come and go, and I do what I feel, right or wrong.
But then came the rules. The rules of watercolor, those seemingly non-negotiable guidelines that made me wonder, Why? Art is all about expression. A baby cries to express themselves — is there a rule to that? Smiles, hugs, a lover’s caress — these are expressions. Who can really box that in?
It seems we love categorizing everything. So, there are these “rules” that some use to define watercolor. But let me break them down for you, and I’ll share my own set of rules at the end. This will be unpopular opinion and if you have been here long enough, you know I gave zero fucks about others opinions.
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