
Whenever I practice with a new medium I fall back on drawing familiar things – human faces and monsters. Usually familiar monsters. So, in the second week of the Watercolor Magic course I did this odd colored Man-Thing.
Watercolor 3/5/10 – Blue Man

This is a painting I did on the second week (of five) in Molly Murrah’s Watercolor Magic Course. I’m not too crazy about the pieces I did that day. I was mostly sketching directly with the paint and trying to figure out what colors worked (and didn’t work) well together.
First Watercolor

Earlier this year my day job broadcast an online watercolor class taught by Molly Murrah. In order to be sure that we had a regular set of students each week I volunteered to take the class. I may have been drawing most of my life but I don’t have a lot of practice working with paint – watercolor, acrylic or oil. I ended up enjoying working with watercolors. They require a bit more patience and planning than I’d like. It’s really a good idea if you think about what you want the final painting to look like while at the same time expecting it to turn out different. And you need to wait for the paints to dry between colors if you want to avoid a brown sloppy mess.
We did a number of in class exercises that I won’t be subjecting you to. I’m a fidgety sort and having paints in front of me was too tempting to ignore. What you will be getting over the next few days are the paintings (and sketches) that I did before class and during the time that Molly was lecturing about history, technique, tools and other things.
This is the first painting I did on the first week of class. Molly paints fruit when she’s practicing. Apparently I paint fruit monsters.
Technical Difficulties
I’m not sure what’s up with this page. My sidebar seems to have disappeared and part of my post from Sunday didn’t show up. I’m going to need to check and see if the problem appears in more than one browser.
Young Wilbur Whately (sans pants)

Every time I read The Dunwich Horror I find myself feeling sorry for Wilbur Whately. He’s the bastard son of a feeble minded albino. His family is hated and feared by their neighbors. He’s oversized, overintelligent and not a pretty sight with his clothes on. With his clothes off he’s down right hideous. He’s fifteen and he knows that the human race isn’t going to accept him. Is it any wonder he wants to call his “father” out of the spaces between into this world? And, sadly, I don’t think he would have gotten on much better with the Great Old Ones than he did with fickle humanity. There was just no home for poor Wilbur anywhere.




