The majority of pastel painting classes instruct layering as a some sort of holy rite. Light pressure, do it gradually, mix it, do not hurry. I went along with all of that. Paid for it too. And still somehow my work had seemed. dull. Overworked. As I was taking dust nicely, and not painting. Get the facts about this topic!

After some time, it became annoying in a silent manner. Not dramatic. Nothing but that little gnash of thought that I was doing everything right and not getting anywhere.

It was not another costly course that led to the change. It was the result of doing something I was instructed not to do: pushing harder, earlier.

That’s it. That’s the technique.

I began committing sooner and not sneaking through the first layers. Making the more daring strokes at the outset. Not with violence, but purposefully. Pastel has got that queer nature–you must not handle it too kindly at first, or it never rouses itself.

The surface counts in this case. When you are on sanded paper, it can even take more pigment at the beginning. This is hardly ever highlighted in most courses. They have you in this safe rut and they keep adding another layer to it until the tooth is dead and the whole thing is muddy anyway.

After I reversed that strategy, things quickly changed.

Colors were richer without ten passes. Shapes felt clearer. I ceased to mix everything into a mush of nothingness. And, to be honest, I had to spend less time correcting mistakes since the number of mistakes was lower.

There is also a psychological change that occurs. You will no longer have to hesitate about every mark when you commit early. You have more faith in your hand. It is a small sound that alters the development of the entire picture.

I recall one composition–a mere landscape. I would have begun with a faint underlay, and gradually filled in the sky. On that day, I simply walked in with a mid-tone blue, moderate pressure, broad strokes.

It was wrong approximately thirty seconds.

Then I put in contrast. A blacker streak on the horizon. Suddenly it snapped into place. No endless blending. No overthinking.

It is the aspect that most pastel painting classes do not really give you any preparation on, that awkward phase when everything seems wrong before it is made right. They attempt to iron that out, yet that tension is quite a good thing. It challenges you to counterattack rather than withdraw.

One more thing I have ceased to do is? Blending everything with my fingers.

Seriously. That habit in itself was murdering my work. It blurs texture and blends colors in a manner that is safe but turns out to be dead. Now I selectively blend, not at all. Allow the strokes to remain in view. Allow the paper to work some of the work.

And no, I do not forget what I was taught in those classes. Just… differently. The building assists, but the actual transformation came about by violating the rules at the appropriate time.

Funny how that is.

When you get stuck, it may not be about your materials or your level of skills. Maybe you are holding back too prematurely in the process.