by Sansanee Boonyad
October 19, 2024
I had this moment recently in class that I just have to share with you. You know when you’re expecting a typical critique session, talking about colors, brushstrokes, and all the usual things that come up in a painting discussion? Well, this time it went somewhere else, somewhere much deeper.
It all started with a simple painting of a cow in a landscape. Nothing particularly unusual, right? But as we started talking about it, the conversation shifted, almost like it had a mind of its own. We weren’t just talking about the technical aspects—like whether the shadows were in the right place or if the sky was blended smoothly—we started discussing the meaning behind the piece. The ideas of compassion, coexistence, how cows have been treated and how our emotions seep into what we create. It was as if, for a moment, the paintings became more than just watercolors on paper. They were reflections of something personal, something each of us holds inside.
That’s when I realized just how privileged I am to be teaching this group. It’s not just about helping them become better artists, though that’s part of it. It’s about these moments where we connect on a much more human level, where their paintings are like windows into their hearts. As I listened to them talk about their work, I felt like I was seeing a different side of each person—not just their outer personalities, but their deeper, more reflective selves. It reminded me how much art, at its core, is about communicating without words.
I shared with my class something I’ve thought about often as an artist: how painting is a way of speaking, of telling a story or sharing a feeling without needing to explain it verbally. And the real challenge—one we’re all working toward—is finding that clarity in our work, so that anyone who looks at it can feel what we’re trying to say. Isn’t that what we all strive for in life, too? To be understood, to communicate the things we can’t always put into words?
It was one of those moments where I felt so connected, not just as their professor, but as someone who understands the path they’re walking. Even though we come from different backgrounds and experiences, we’re all trying to find that balance between technique and expression, between what we see with our eyes and what we feel in our hearts. My students may not think of themelves as "artists" in the traditional sense, but let me tell you, the work they’re creating shows a depth and intention that speaks volumes. They’re finding their voices, and I want them to trust that, even as they continue to refine your skills.
I even encouraged students to take some time to reflect on their progress—how far they’ve come in these nine weeks, not just in terms of watercolor techniques but in how they’ve connected with their inner artist. Sometimes we forget to pause and look back at the ground we’ve covered. I mean, we’re all so focused on getting to the next goal that we miss the beauty of where we are right now. I suggested they write it down—capture their thoughts and feelings about this moment in their journey—because, looking back, they’ll realize how much they’ve grown.
Joseph Campbell’s words came to mind as I wrapped up the class: "Follow your bliss, don't be afraid, and doors will open where you didn't know they were going to be." I love that quote because it feels so true in moments like these. We’re all finding our way, one brushstroke at a time, and I couldn’t be more proud of the path they’re on.
I just had to share that with you. It was one of those unexpected, beautiful conversations that remind you why you’re doing what you’re doing. Anyway, I’m excited to see where the rest of the semester takes us. There’s still so much to explore—both in our art and in ourselves.
Enjoy creating!
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