When you attend The Tingology alcohol ink painting course the first thing that strikes you is not the color. It is the speed at which things move. You place yourself an ink on the surface and before you even make a decision regarding what you are doing the ink spreads, integrates and takes its course.

It does not have a gradual warm-up period. You are there in it at once.

I recall having a paper with a quivering hand, attempting to make the ink behave like watercolour. That did not last long. Alcohol ink will not wait. It even responds to air, tilting, and even proximity of your hand. The teacher merely remarked, Let it flow, which was unintelligent until I understood by this effort that I was only making the situation more difficult.

And then I ceased to struggle with it. It was then that things became interesting.

The collision of colors is not what you intend. A gentle blue then abruptly thrusts into the hard purple rim. Gold sunk in the holes like it knows where it is most wanted where you do not know. It does not seem like painting and more like observing something happening and you are slightly guiding it.

And yes, at one time it appears to be a mess in the middle. In fact, in the majority of cases.

The most interesting thing about the alcohol ink painting course was that it was physical. You lean over the board, blow a straw, use a tissue, take a step away and take a step in. It is not merely sitting down and having a brush. There’s movement. Some experimentation. Some okay, that was not the plan situations.

However, such moments do count.

Alcohol ink is rewarding of accidents. A flower that goes too much can be the most interesting element of the work. The edges that appear too sharp initially, begin to feel deliberate later. It changes the way you think of mistakes. They do not destroy the work, they put it off the track.

It is a good reason to have a taste of that alone.

The second thing that I had not anticipated was the speed at which you get the results. You do not spend hours creating layers to achieve something decent. In minutes, you already have something that is aesthetically appealing. Not flawless, but courageous. And at times that is more thrilling than something that is too polished.

Patience is also taught in silence by the course, although the medium used is fast in motion. You know when to cease the addition of ink. When to let it dry. When to stop working on a piece rather than working it to death. It is tougher said than done.

I observed that I was less rigid when I had several sessions. Not so concerned about doing everything right. There is something about the freedom of movement of ink which makes you loose the hold to some degree, not only of the picture you are looking at, but of expectations in general.

And frankly, that transformation lasts longer than the picture does.

This type of class disrupts you in case you have ever been a one who felt like being doing diligent, restrained art. It takes you out of precision and into something less predictable and more flowing, a little less predictable, and much more forgiving than it might initially appear.