“Just wear the dress:” My first watercolor workshop experience

“Just wear the dress.” That’s what I told myself last Friday night as I changed my outfit for the third time.

In reality, my struggle wasn’t about what to wear at all; my nerves and anxiety were just itching to think up an excuse to get out of this “Calm Waves” watercolor workshop I’d signed up for at a local bookstore. People assume that because I’m naturally extroverted, I don’t experience social anxiety, but that couldn’t be further from the truth. 

Especially in a room with other artists, I usually feel like an imposter, like someone could smell the amateur all over me and call me out. The truth is, I’m not an artist; I’m just all-around creative. My sense of fulfillment is derived from expression in any form. In fact, I originally planned to major in vocal performance in college! So releasing my art to the world has been an uncomfortably slow process.

But for the past two-ish years, painting has been an unexpected lifeline for me. 

Unexpected because I only thought I was doing a single Youtube watercolor tutorial for the fun of it one afternoon, but the sense of peace that came along with it kept me craving more day after day. Now, my growing art supplies have a dedicated space in our home, and I have filled three sketchbooks with my (nearly) daily practice.

This newfound creative exploration got me thinking: what if the person we’re becoming is really just about revisiting a past version of who we were before we grew up?

Until now, perfectionism has always kept me safe from the fear of failure. As a writer, I can draft, rewrite, and edit to ensure every sentence is grammatically correct and free of typos (of course, every writer knows that’s a false sense of security). Art feels more vulnerable, more visible, and easier for others to point out obvious flaws. That kind of exposure is scary.

I realize now that perfectionism was only keeping me stuck. I have spent my entire life hiding behind my words…it’s time to evolve.

So, against the intrusive thoughts telling me that I didn’t belong, I gathered up way too many of my brushes, paper, and even my heating tool, and made my way to the bookstore. I am nothing if not prepared. 

Our instructor, Michelle, owner of MES Studio Art, was still setting up when I arrived. She invited me to take a seat anyway, but first, I had to peruse the shelves to find my bestie-in-law’s book, which I was excited to find nestled in with the other queer romances. Someday soon these twin copies will make their way to a new home, a comforting thought that others will get to enjoy her story too. 

Don’t sit in the corner, don’t be a loner, I recited to myself as I made my way back over to the group space. Okay, so I chose the seat next to the corner. Good enough. Matching cards with four drops of color, two brushes, and a waterproof pen sat at each place setting. Turns out, I didn’t need to bring a year’s worth of supplies after all.

Michelle began the workshop with a short introduction to mindfulness and the benefits of making art as a form of stress and anxiety relief. We then moved into a gentle practice of painting loose, flowing waves onto the page. Michelle intentionally gave very little guidance, and instead allowed us to explore with watercolors and discover what happens when you just let the color be. As someone who feels the need for control, I was surprised at how much I enjoyed painting without a plan, intuitively allowing my pent-up energy to manifest visually on paper in a drippy ombre.

The results? Eight different pieces, using the exact same colors, each distinctly unique and beautiful. That’s the magic of watercolors–you can see the ways in which each artist at that table chose to apply their colors. Some had more defined lines, and others had beautifully blended hues. Some utilized more yellow ochre, while some, like myself, used it sparingly. 

The point of this practice, as Michelle explained, was not to care about the results, but to just be present in the process and to reflect on how we felt throughout it. 

How appropriate that the universe thought I needed to be in that place on that exact night; there are no coincidences. Turns out, Michelle also runs a writing group and some virtual creative events. I’d been searching for a group like this one, I was just too afraid to find them. Now, I can’t wait to go back.

So if you’re like me and letting intrusive thoughts win, here’s your sign to fight back. Your permission to take one hour for yourself on a Friday night. I’ll be the friend standing in your corner telling you to just wear the dress. You need it more than you know.

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