Imagine this: a clean piece of rice paper, a brush that wants to jump, and a pool of ink so deep that you could get lost looking at it. You don’t know what to do. The teacher smiles and says something about letting your arm “breathe.” No one told me that painting with ink is like meditating and grappling at the same time. Clicking here for more information!

You take the leap. The brush touches the paper. The line moves around in all sorts of ways, like it has a mind of its own. Don’t get too caught up in the scribbles and splotches; sometimes you’re chasing shadows. More than one artist has said that their favorite painting came about when they stopped trying to control every stroke.

The setting has its own quiet magic, too. It feels good to carefully grind ink and make circles on that antique stone. But water is your wild card: if you add too much, your lines go crazy; if you add too little, the brush drags, which is tenacious and won’t budge. It’s like trying to get the right amount of rain from a storm cloud.

It’s okay if your lotus flowers seem like mushy donuts or your big mountains look like lumpy potatoes. It might not be the work of art you had in mind, but the laughing and the dropped brush teach you a lot. Put formulas aside for a little while. Calm down. Just watch the ink grow on the hungry paper, and how the blank white starts to shake with potential.

Artists can be strange. I’ve seen folks drink hot tea before picking up a brush or listen to vintage jazz while they work. I even tried singing show tunes once. I’m not sure it helped me focus, but my brushlines did a little dance.

There will be days when you ask yourself, “Why am I doing this?” It could last for weeks. The secret is to keep going. Draw on old invoices and let the ink flow. See where it collects. Have fun with the repetition. Every practice round that leaves a mark on your wrist will make it steady like a cat on a ledge.

Inspiration always comes in from the side: hair going down the drain, rains rushing across a window. Quickly sketch their times! Don’t worry about galleries or being flawless. Let the strange things fill your sketchbook. They might provide you an idea for your next great work of art.

Be happy with your mistakes. Put them up with pride. They are not warnings; they are signs of bravery. They proclaim, loud and clear: you came, you painted, and you learned.

Ink painting doesn’t usually give you instant pleasure. But if you keep trying, don’t mind the mess, and are open to allowing circles turn into moons, you’ll find rewards all around you. Try it with the sleeves rolled up, sideways, or upside down. There is no secret to finding joy in ink painting; it’s in every bold, blotted stroke you make.