I’m no stranger to a good craft session. My flat is littered with trinkets made from polymer clay, mugs covered in colourful doodles, terracotta pots painted with vibrant fruits and flowers: the detritus of old arts and craft projects.
There’s something about keeping the hands busy that frees up the mind. When I feel like time is passing by at an alarming rate, or I notice I’m spending too much time scrolling mindlessly on my phone, I’ve found the act of making or creating can be just what I need to slow things down and feel more like myself.
So, when presented with the opportunity to attend a “paint and sip” night – hosted by Pinot and Picasso – I jumped at the chance.
The central Auckland studio is a small box of a room lined with paint-stained aprons. Upon entering, I see that our canvases are already laid out for us, alongside paper plates adorned with blobs of acrylic colour. A huge draw of art events like these are in what you don’t do: the setting up of equipment and the cleaning up at the end is all taken care of. All we need to do is get there and get painting.
Tonight, I’m joined by a friend I hadn’t seen in a while – we pour ourselves glasses of pinot gris as the instructor details how to mix our base colour.
“Take a large glob of white, and a teeny-tiny bit of red.” We are painting cherries: splashes of deep maroon on a pale pink background.
The feeling of spreading wet paint on canvas is immediately meditative, and we soon fall into a rhythm of casual conversation amid the brush strokes: trips we’ve taken, plans we have, friends we miss, the difficulty of perfecting a perfectly shaped cherry…
The instructor guides us on how to create shadows and highlights, being careful to note where our source of light is. Anyone can pick up paints and a canvas and get to painting at home, but everyone in the room agrees it’s helpful to have some instruction and guidance as we go.
At the end of the three hours, my canvas is far from an artistic masterpiece, but I’ve caught the bug. I’m already planning my next visit – in four days’ time.
My second night on the tools, and we’ve clearly taken a step up in difficulty. Gone are the simple scattering of cherries: we are tasked with the artistic creation of a tablescape, complete with a wine bottle, glasses, a slice of melon and a spread of playing cards.
Our instructor is once again invaluable. She teaches us how to sketch out our dimensions on the canvas, how to mix colours and alter the design to our own whims and desires and how to create texture and light. There’s a lot to cover and the hours whip by. This time, I find conversation focuses largely on the task at hand: “how did you get your lines so straight?” “Why can’t I get the right shade of green?”
Deep into the final hour, I feel I’m starting to get the hang of certain skills. My lines are a little cleaner, my brush strokes a little more intentional. My tablescape has emerged from the canvas: albeit a little wonky here, a little misshapen there, but a creation of my own just the same. Over my artistic nights, I’ve learned the end result is of less importance than the process of getting there, which is a great lesson to take away from a few hours at an easel.
The next day I find myself strolling the craft section of my local stationery store, browsing brushes and wondering if I should stick with acrylic paint or dabble in watercolours. My two nights of painting have unlocked something deep within me. I’m gripped in a fervour, the all-encompassing excitement of a new hobby I’m itching to dive into. I dash to the checkout, basket laden with everything I need to become a bona fide painter.
Story by Emily Draper for the Summer 2024 issue of AA Directions Magazine. Emily Draper is a contributor to AA Directions magazine.
