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December in the UK carries a distinct kind of cold—not just in temperature, but in mood. It’s a month where the days seem to disappear before they’ve fully begun, with stormy skies and the weight of winter’s stillness pressing down. The snow that had briefly graced November was long gone, replaced by rain-slick streets and a lingering damp chill. It was during these quiet, subdued days that I felt drawn to my watercolours once again.
This time, the palette that emerged was deeply influenced by December’s greyness. Cool, bluish greys dominated the page, accented by shadows that seemed almost alive. I hadn’t planned this; I simply let the atmosphere of the month guide my brush. The result was a painting that feels like it belongs to December—cold yet contemplative, beautiful yet haunting.
What struck me most about this piece was how much it seemed to echo the way December feels. From a distance, the muted tones and flowing forms evoke a sense of calm, almost serenity. But as you step closer, the details reveal something more unsettling—a quiet tension, like the air before a storm. It’s a reminder that even in stillness, there can be an undercurrent of unease.
Painting during this time has reminded me of how deeply our surroundings shape our creativity. December’s gloom didn’t just influence the colours on my palette; it shifted something within me, helping me embrace the stark beauty of winter’s melancholy. There’s a freedom in letting the season guide the work, in accepting that art doesn’t always have to be light and bright.
This piece feels like a step forward in my journey, a reflection of the quiet yet powerful connection between the external world and our internal landscapes. I’m learning to let those connections flow naturally, trusting that the art will find its own voice.
To anyone reading this, I wonder: Has a particular time of year ever shaped the way you create or think? Maybe it’s the brilliance of spring, the heat of summer, or the introspection of autumn. I’d love to hear how the seasons have influenced your creative moments. Let’s share these stories and celebrate the ways in which the world around us becomes part of what we make.
By Urva PatelDecember in the UK carries a distinct kind of cold—not just in temperature, but in mood. It’s a month where the days seem to disappear before they’ve fully begun, with stormy skies and the weight of winter’s stillness pressing down. The snow that had briefly graced November was long gone, replaced by rain-slick streets and a lingering damp chill. It was during these quiet, subdued days that I felt drawn to my watercolours once again.
This time, the palette that emerged was deeply influenced by December’s greyness. Cool, bluish greys dominated the page, accented by shadows that seemed almost alive. I hadn’t planned this; I simply let the atmosphere of the month guide my brush. The result was a painting that feels like it belongs to December—cold yet contemplative, beautiful yet haunting.
What struck me most about this piece was how much it seemed to echo the way December feels. From a distance, the muted tones and flowing forms evoke a sense of calm, almost serenity. But as you step closer, the details reveal something more unsettling—a quiet tension, like the air before a storm. It’s a reminder that even in stillness, there can be an undercurrent of unease.
Painting during this time has reminded me of how deeply our surroundings shape our creativity. December’s gloom didn’t just influence the colours on my palette; it shifted something within me, helping me embrace the stark beauty of winter’s melancholy. There’s a freedom in letting the season guide the work, in accepting that art doesn’t always have to be light and bright.
This piece feels like a step forward in my journey, a reflection of the quiet yet powerful connection between the external world and our internal landscapes. I’m learning to let those connections flow naturally, trusting that the art will find its own voice.
To anyone reading this, I wonder: Has a particular time of year ever shaped the way you create or think? Maybe it’s the brilliance of spring, the heat of summer, or the introspection of autumn. I’d love to hear how the seasons have influenced your creative moments. Let’s share these stories and celebrate the ways in which the world around us becomes part of what we make.