The visionary path to paintings. Creative Ways to Describe Artwork Colors

Art workshops
Swatches of yellow ochre watercolor paints from PWC and Windsor, showcasing their different appearances on watercolor paper.
Comparison of PWC and Winsor yellow ochre watercolor paints, showcasing their distinct shades.
A vibrant watercolor painting featuring a bouquet of colorful flowers in shades of pink, yellow, blue, and orange on the left. On the right, a palette showing descriptions of colors with playful names inspired by fruits, including 'juicy strawberry', 'ripe corn', and 'vanilla background'.
Colorful watercolor artwork featuring flowers, inspired by nature and food descriptions.

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Exploring Intuitive Art: Fox and Roosters. The magic of imagination. Watercolor Clausura technique.

Art workshops, Artist, ArtTravel, Uncategorized
A watercolor painting transformation showcasing the evolution from abstract colors to a detailed fox illustration, with 'Before' and 'After' labels.
Before and after: a watercolor transformation showcasing the artistic journey from abstract to the detailed fox artwork.
Abstract watercolor painting featuring shades of green and blue with fluid shapes and brushstrokes, showcasing an intuitive art style.
What is it? For me it looks like a little fox with its sly eyes and sharp ears!
It was inspired by La Fontaine’s “The Raven and the Fox” depicts a scene where the fox outwits the rooster:)
A sketch of a fox's face with minimalistic details, set against a faint background of roosters, trees, and a small house.
A watercolor painting featuring a fox's face with expressive features, surrounded by colorful outlines of roosters and a faint background of a wooden structure.
After, with imagination painting. Fox and Roosters. Don’t let a charming smile fool you:)
The cunning fox’s face emerged unexpectedly, a testament to the power of imagination:) Voila

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My Toronto. Stay home and Urban sketching. Travel and Art. Old Toronto. Part 8.

ArtTravel

My daily sketches’ journey in October 2020 is very close to the end. The next chapter is Old #Toronto.

Gooderham and Worts Distillery National Historic Site of Canada with industrial skyline of pitched roofs, turrets, chimney stacks and parapet.

When every chimney has retired but still dresses for the occasion.
Brick by brick, century by century — still standing, still judging your latte choices.
Old buildings staring down the new ones like: ‘We were here first.’

There are abandoned buildings with modern city’s buildings as background. Paintings were done as mixed of watercolour pencils, watercolour paints and acrylic, above added oil to add some texture for bricks.

I added cum clouds for peaceful sky and keep the interest in the scene to substitute buildings’ pipes that do not smoke anymore.

Abandoned? Prefer ‘vintage and unbothered.’

A lovingly rebuilt historic district that’s now so touristy, even the cobblestones are posing for selfies—yet somehow the old spirit still refuses to check out.

Canada Malting Site .It is one of two remaining silos in Toronto’s Harbourfront in Ontario, Canada. It is almost 100 years.

The museum and house Sir William Campbell is a vibrant public space where members of Toronto’ communities giving life to the words “freedom of expression.” Painting was done as combination of fountain pen with watercolour paints.

Almost 100 years old and still not on TikTok. Respect.

Toronto’s CN Tower, casually photobombing downtown with its reflection on the surrounding buildings, has been the city’s superstar landmark for the last 45 years. That basically makes it ancient history by our young country and city standards. CN originally stood for Canadian National, the railway company that decided, “You know what would be fun? A *massive* tower.” At over half a kilometer tall (555 m), the CN Tower spent more than three decades as the reigning champ of tallest building, tower, and freestanding structure—because apparently “really, really tall thing” needed multiple categories.

The CN Tower refused to be painted directly. A diva to the last pixel.

I decided to be “original” and painted this famous building, the CN Tower, not directly, but as a reflection in the fancy high-rises that try very hard to look taller than Canada’s tallest landmark:)
I splashed in deep blue and juicy raspberry colours for a slightly over-the-top romantic vibe. This early-dawn scene was painted in the morning before work hours—because coffee and sunrise apparently make me think I’m a landscape poet with a paintbrush.

Bon voyage! Until the next travel:) All paintings belong to the author. No image is to be copied without permission.

Tools used for my painting Watercolour used Charvin and Van Gogh brands, Derwent watercolour pencils and Faber Castell artist pens. Paper Strathmore Watercolour and Mixed Media albums, 15×20 cm (6×8 in.)

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Exploring Paris Through Vibrant Pomegranate Art

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Oranges and its trees, Rome, part 1. Urban sketching and Still life. Travel and Art.

ArtTravel

Rome. You know, that place where tourists arrive and immediately lose their minds over the one thing Romans have been casually ignoring for literally centuries: oranges hanging from trees. On actual trees:)

Lovely oranges- juicy

Orange trees minding their own business on a Rome street, casually photobombing motorcycles and architecture like they own the place. Spoiler: they kind of do.

Rome in May. The oranges are thriving. The tourists are not.

If you venture to Rome (and let’s be real, who wouldn’t?), prepare your schnoz for a fresh, jasmine-adjacent aroma that will make you question every candle you’ve ever bought. Visit in May? Congratulations! You’ve hit the citrus lottery—blooming orange trees will be photobombing every selfie you take on Rome’s charming streets.

Still life with oranges. They posed. We did not ask.

The Doria Pamphili Garden in Rome is the perfect place to collapse dramatically between museum tours, all while inhaling the intoxicating fragrance and gawking at the aggressively vibrant oranges hanging overhead. It’s like nature installed a mood enhancer specifically for exhausted art lovers.

Doria Pamphili Garden — where art lovers go to dramatically recover.

According to ancient Greek legend (and what’s more reliable than ancient mythology, am I right?), Gaea straight-up gifterd golden orange orchards to Hera as a wedding present when she married Zeus. Their first night of newlywed bliss? Three hundred years. Talk about going the distance! Now that’s a honeymoon.

Hera’s wedding gift. Three hundred years of honeymoon sold separately.

The couple had access to magical spring water—basically the ancient equivalent of a spa day—which kept Hera perpetually refreshed and virginal (plot twist: marriage!). And to make sure nobody crashed their citrus paradise, they hired the Hesperids and a monstrous dragon as bouncers. Talk about taking ‘No Trespassing’ to mythological extremes.

More oranges. Because apparently one painting wasn’t enough.
Spoiler: also oranges.

Oranges’ recipe for the salad we devoured in Rome like it had personally offended us. Main ingredients? Arugula (the fancy lettuce), feta cheese (the salty stuff), oranges (obviously), and olives (because why not). For dressing: red wine vinegar, honey, and olive oil—basically, liquid gold. The result? A light, refreshingly bright salad so good you’ll forget how much you hate summer heat. You’re welcome.

The salad’s main character. Bow down.

Bon voyage! Until the next adventure! Keep your sense of humor (and your appetite) sharp. Stay healthy, stay weird, and always look up to see what fruit-related adventure the universe has in store.

All paintings and sarcasm belong to the author. No image or witty observation is to be copied without permission (they’re copyrighted treasures, thank you very much).

Doria Pamphili Gallery—it’s on Via del Corso in Rome, if you ever need an excuse to eat more salad surrounded by Renaissance paintings and smug orange trees.

The behind-the-scenes reveal: my artistic arsenal includes watercolor brands Van Gogh and Cotman (because yes, we splash out on the fancy stuff). For sketching, I abuse Strathmore Watercolor albums (14×21 cm / 5.5×8.5 in.) and Acquarello (12.5×18 cm). Studio albums? Canson Mix Media (28×35 cm / 11×14 in.) and Canson Watercolor (25×35 cm / 11×15 in.)—basically enough paper to create my own forest, which ironically I’m using to draw pictures of trees. The irony is exquisite.

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Urban sketching. Calm water and sky above Toronto island’s Billy Bishop airport, with no flights. Spring 2020.

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Behold: Billy Bishop Toronto City Airport, the adorably tiny airfield tucked on Toronto Island like a boutique coffee shop in a corporate office park. This spring, however, 2020 decided to crash the party—and by crash, I mean everything literally stopped. No boats. No airplanes. No noise. Just the lake doing its best impression of a yoga retreat while the world had a collective panic attack. Spoiler alert: it was eerily peaceful.

It feels so unusual to see this normally busy lake so quiet and empty. As I work on these three paintings – morning, late morning/noon, and afternoon – a few people pause at a little distance, gently saying hello and offering kind words of support to us as artists. Their warmth has touched me, and I know I will carry the memory of this day with me for a long time.

Morning. The lake is barely awake. Same.

A watercolour painting I did at noon by Ontario Lake (which, let’s be honest, was probably the most exciting thing happening in Toronto that day).

Late morning. The light warmed up. So did the lake.

Afternoon vibes: the lake is serving calm waves with a side of tired, melancholic yellow sun—nature’s way of saying, “Yeah, I’m exhausted too. Let’s just rest.” By evening, Ontario Lake had achieved what none of us could: the zen state of not caring about literally anything.

Afternoon. Everything glowing, everything shifting. Nature, clocking in.

Leonardo da Vinci, history’s ultimate Renaissance overachiever, was obsessed with water. He called it “vetturale di natura”—”the vehicle of nature.” Translation: the man understood that water is basically nature’s delivery service, and honestly? He wasn’t wrong. Water shows up, does all the work, and everyone else takes the credit.

Bon voyage! Until our next adventure (hopefully with fewer apocalyptic vibes). Stay healthy and keep painting!

All paintings are mine. Like, I actually made them with my own two hands. No stealing, copycats! Seriously though, I worked hard on these—respect the artist hustle.

My artist toolkit of choice: Van Gogh and Cotman watercolours (for when you want your paintings to have that authentic starry-night-versus-budget-friendly chaos), plus a Canson Mix Media album at 28×35 cm (11×14 in.)—the Goldilocks size of art paper.

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