Wrecked Ring Pour
Every painting I make is part art, part patience, and part dog management. This one started
with excitement, a clean floor, and a reminder from my dad about five P's.
20 October 2025
Growing up, my dad always emphasized the five P's: Prior Preparation Prevents Poor Performance. I've carried that lesson into so many areas of my life - it always resurfaces whenever I'm about to begin something I care about. In the studio, it's a mantra that reminds me that art starts long before the first drop of paint hits the canvas.
Last Monday, I woke up excited to paint - but there's always a fair amount of prep before the fun can begin. I mixed my paint colors and let them settle to reduce air bubbles while I tackled the next steps. My biggest obstacle? Dog hair 🤣. Because Ginger, bless her, sheds like she's trying to grow a second dog.
After vacuuming, lint-rolling myself, taping the back of the canvas, laying out silicone mats to catch excess paint, and prepping my floor space, I was finally ready to begin. Since this was a larger canvas (40 cm x 80 cm), I prefer working on the floor - it lets me move freely around the piece as I go.
This piece began with two black-and-white ring pours, which I "wrecked" with a skewer to create flowing patterns - ribbons and veins of contrast.
Then I poured iridescent pools of red, yellow, and blue on top and re-wrecked it.
When wet, the iridescent paints look white, but as they dry, their subtle hues slowly emerge - blue, yellow, and red shimmering softly from beneath.
Once I was happy with my design, I began stretching it out until I found the final composition I wanted to keep.
When my son came home, I couldn't wait to show him. We stood together, admiring the movement and texture - until I noticed it: a single, delicate hair caught in the paint. My heart sank. I reached for tweezers, tried to free it, and in that moment, made a small mistake much larger.
I felt that flash of frustration so many artists know too well - the need to fix what might not even need fixing. If I'd just left it, it might have disappeared into the flow once dry. Instead, it became a quiet lesson in patience, another reminder that sometimes art, like life, needs to breathe without interference.
After the painting fully dried, I was able to fix the spot much easier for a flawless look. Sometimes we have to learn the hard way. Another quote my dad often shared, from Winston Churchill, feels fitting: "Those who fail to learn from history are doomed to repeat it." So next time, I'll do my best to resist the urge to "fix" things before they're ready - or perhaps just let it be, because beauty lives in the imperfect.
My son thought this piece should be titled "Swish of Fish" and I couldn't agree more.