It does not start off promising. You put alcohol ink on the surface and in a second it is sitting there, too dark, too concentrated, rather awkward. Then it begins to spread and it somehow appears worse. Colors are bleeding, and edges are dissolved, and you are left staring at what seems to be a mistake. See our helpful hints here!
The bit that most people do not trust is that messy puddle.
I didn’t either. I always wanted to correct it immediately. Add more liquor, stir it about, attempt to squeeze it into something familiar. It was normally aggravated by this.
Learning to stop is the turning point.
You give that puddle a few moments, and the ink begins to separate itself. Pigments change a little, light colors appear, and the edges start creating these organic lines, which are soft. It is subtle but it is where the change starts.
You must not cut it short or you miss that stage.
When the ink has settled a little, not quite dry, but not quite wet, then it is that some little touch will upset the whole. A single drop of alcohol. A gentle tilt. A single puffing of the air.
The puddle suddenly starts to move with intent.
It extends itself and forms those sweeping curves that one would identify with the painting of alcohol ink. The color differences are made more noticeable. What appeared to be flat a minute ago now begins to have depth.
It is an odd reversal to observe.
You also have to choose whether you want to continue or not. That is easier said than done. It begins to appear nice and the temptation is to make it better.
It is here that most paintings disintegrate.
Any additional alteration runs the danger of mixing those clean edges again into the mud. One or two deliberate moves are often the best, and not continuous adjustment.
I have destroyed more by overworking them than by underworking them.
The other aid is to use fewer colors to begin with. A messy puddle composed of three colors acts very differently as one composed of six. The reduced numbers of colors imply a cleaner flow of the ink.
It also facilitates the transformation.
It is gratifying to see that change in action. You do not get a sense of creating the image bit by bit. It is as though you were discovering it.
It may appear to be dramatical, yet it is true.
It is not the puddle that is the problem, but the start. When you no longer fight that stage and begin to work with it, the entire process seems less disorganized.
And that is when the results generally begin to surprise you.