On Working with Chinese Ink

There’s something humbling about working with Chinese ink—a medium that feels both ancient and alive. It moves with elegance, but demands presence. Every drop carries weight.

I’ve used it across different surfaces—watercolour paper and mixed media paper in particular. Both respond differently to the ink’s character, but one thing remains constant: the rich, deep tone fades gently as it dries, settling into a more muted presence than when first applied. It teaches you to work not only with intention, but with acceptance. What you lay down may shift—ink settles where it chooses.

It’s also a medium that requires respect. A single spill can be permanent—I say this with experience, having lost a beloved carpet to one careless moment. The ink flows like water, but stains like memory. Handling it is almost ritualistic: steady hands, thoughtful placement, and a workspace that’s prepared for the unexpected.

What I love most is how the ink flows into thought—how it invites restraint and boldness at the same time. You don’t fight it. You move with it. Sometimes I’ll stare at a stroke and leave it just as it is, not out of hesitation, but reverence.

Working with Chinese ink is more than technique—it’s a quiet conversation with movement and contrast. Every mark is a moment captured.

Let the medium guide you. And protect your carpet. 🖤

— Rachel