Getting the Itch for an Odyssey
So, this idea, "odyssey paintings," it just sort of landed in my brain a few weeks back. Wasn't reading anything epic or planning a big trip, not really. It just felt like a theme I needed to get out of my system. You know how sometimes a word or a feeling just sticks with you? That was "odyssey" for me. Not so much the ancient story, but more the idea of a long, winding journey, with all its ups and downs.
Gathering My Bits and Pieces
I didn't go out and buy a load of fancy new stuff. Nah, I just rummaged around in my studio. Found a stack of canvases I'd forgotten about, different sizes, nothing special. Pulled out my trusty acrylics – the ones that are probably a bit past their best, but they still work. Honestly, I think working with what you've got sometimes forces you to be more creative. I didn't sketch anything out beforehand. I find that if I plan too much, I lose the spark. I just wanted to dive in.
First Splashes and a Bit of a Mess
My first attempt? Well, let's just say it was a learning experience. I tried to be too literal, I think. Tried to paint a boat on a stormy sea, and it just looked… clunky. Like something a kid would do, but not in a charming way. It was stiff, had no soul. So, that one got painted over pretty quick. No point in flogging a dead horse, right?
Finding the Actual Path
After that initial dud, I decided to stop thinking about things and start thinking about feelings. What does an odyssey feel like? Probably a mix of excitement, fear, loneliness, hope. So, I just started laying down colors. Lots of blues, deep indigos, some murky greens. Then I’d throw in some unexpected flashes of orange or yellow. I wasn't trying to paint a scene, more like an emotional landscape.
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I used big brushes, small brushes, even an old credit card to scrape paint around. Whatever felt right in the moment.
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Sometimes I’d let a layer dry, then go back in, other times I’d work wet-on-wet, letting the colors bleed into each other. It was all very much go-with-the-flow.
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There were moments of pure frustration, where nothing seemed to work. I’d walk away, make a cup of tea, then come back and attack it from a different angle.
I ended up working on a few canvases at once. Each one started to take on its own personality, like different stages of a long voyage. One felt very dark and tumultuous, another felt calmer, like a brief respite.
Adding the Finishing Touches (or So I Thought)
Once I had a few pieces that felt like they were going somewhere, I’d prop them up and just stare at them for a bit. Sometimes I’d see something that needed a tweak – a highlight here, a shadow there. It’s funny how a tiny dab of white can suddenly make a whole section pop. Or how a bit of dark wash can push something back and create depth. This part is slow, and you have to resist the urge to overdo it. Less is often more, I’ve found.
The Journey's End (for Now)
So, after a good few sessions, I had a small series of these "odyssey paintings." They're not perfect, by any means. They're a bit rough around the edges, a bit raw. But they feel honest. They capture that journey I had in my head, and the journey of actually making them. Each one has its own story, its own struggle and its own little victory. And really, that's what it was all about for me. It was a good practice, cleared my head a bit, and I got something out of it. Definitely worth the effort, even the messy bits.
