Handle with Care

A voice jolted me from behind as I was demonstrating before a small gathering. “Watercolor isn’t for me. I can’t control it. I’ve tried.” She laughed and walked away.

I kept my head down trying to focus on the pigment flowing pure and unpredictable before me, but my inner dialogue had gone into overdrive. Not everything is for everyone and that’s okay. Walking away from / something that doesn’t suit us is a good choice. But walking away out of… A different observer spoke. “My mother was a watercolorist.” I looked up. Our eyes met. “Want to try?”

She hesitated. Others went before her accepting my invitation to try watercolor. She eventually sat beside me. I offered guidance as she dipped the brush into water, wet the paper and dropped in pigment. I showed her how to tilt the paper to encourage the colors to flow and mingle. We watched her emerging results, transfixed.“I have all of her supplies.”A stillness settled around us.

“Think you’ll continue?” “I might.”

“I hope you do.”

I remember being a fragile beginner. The local art guild needed one more participant to meet the minimum class size for a nationally known instructor to come to our town. I was told the three-day workshop was for all levels and I would be fine. I paid the registration fee and I was not fine. The more experienced watercolorists flourished while the beginner floundered. I had been so discouraged and felt so defeated, I almost quit watercolor.

From that experience, I began picturing handle-with-care tags attached to my beginner students. Soon, I believed we all had them. And not just in art classes but in life.

Happiness is a work of art. Handle with care.

—Edith Wharton