Can You Paint Like Picasso… Without Watercolor Paper?
There’s something magical about how surface changes everything. Not just how the paint behaves — but how we behave when we paint.
I’ve been thinking about this ever since I tried out a couple of surfaces way ago in 2023, and I thought now I got more skills up my sleeve, it was time for some experimentation with surfaces.
Do you know Picasso’s Bull series? Its in a sequence where he reduces a bull from a full, detailed drawing down to just a few elegant lines. It’s such a powerful metaphor for simplification — not only in art, but in how we make choices. And somewhere between all that reduction, I started wondering: how would surface change my own process of simplification?
So in this Masters Reimagined study, I tried painting like Picasso… without watercolor paper.
🧩 Why Surface Matters
Watercolor artists often take paper for granted — it’s the quiet partner that defines how color settles, how edges bloom, how long you have before a wash dries. But what if the surface itself could change so much more of the painting?
I started this experiment with that question: What if I removed the paper altogether?
That led me to Ampersand Aquabord, a panel with a mineral-clay surface bonded to hardboard. It’s designed for watercolor, but unlike paper, it can be varnished and shown without glass. I’d bought one back in 2023 (now 2025) but left it untouched because it intimidated me — the surface felt mysterious, too different from the soft pull of cotton hot press paper.
Returning to it now felt like facing something I’d once avoided. And it taught me a lot about how much I’ve…. I think, grown.
🐂 Study 1 – Bull Stage V on Aquabord
To start, I revisited Picasso’s Bull Stage V, painting it on Ampersand Aquabord using graphite and watercolor.
I kept the palette to one hue — Schmincke Mars Black. My goal was simplification: focusing only on the darkest darks, using a watercolor grisaille to reduce form into tone and structure.
The surface itself taught me restraint. Too much water, and pigments spread beyond intention; too little, and the brush drags. Aquabord requires patience — letting each layer dry completely before continuing. And that waiting time somehow mirrored the discipline of simplification itself.
By the end, the process felt less about control and more about listening — letting the board guide how the image emerged.
🐂 Study 2 – Bull on Copper
After understanding the rhythm of Aquabord, I moved to something even more unconventional: painting the Bull on an Artefex copper panel.
I applied Daniel Smith’s Transparent Watercolor Ground to help the paint adhere, but it dulled the natural sheen of the copper. The reflectiveness that first drew me in disappeared. The watercolor behaved differently — less luminous, more chalky — and the entire surface felt “uncoppery”.
Still, the experiment revealed something important: not every surface is meant to speak watercolor’s language. Copper, for me, was about curiosity rather than result. It reminded me that even when something doesn’t work perfectly, it teaches clarity — about both the medium and myself. BUT having that said, I’m very interested in using it with drawing oils when I have acquired more skill with playing with the medium.
💃🏻Study 3 – Woman in Mantilla on Aquabord
Next, I made a smaller study of Picasso’s Woman in Mantilla, again on Aquabord.
I’ve always loved this piece ever since I came across the painting in Barcelon — not because it’s finished, but because it isn’t. That sense of incompletion feels alive. Working on Aquabord this time was different. I understood how much water it could hold, when to use a paper towel to get rid of some of that water, and when to let it dry until layering the next layer.
It was no longer intimidating — it felt collaborative.
🖌 Final Painting – Portrait of Picasso on Hot Press Paper
For the final piece, I returned to what feels most natural: Arches hot press paper.
Its smooth surface keeps colors bright and reflective; pigment sits close to the top instead of sinking into the texture, making hues appear more vibrant than on cold press paper.
I used Schmincke Glacier Green, Tundra Orange, and Winsor & Newton Rosé Doré — a triadic palette that balances cool calm and muted warmth. Those colors carried echoes of Picasso’s Blue and Rose periods while still feeling personal to my style.
I finished with contour lines — some in darkened Glacier Green, others in Light Cobalt Blue pencil — and a single touch of white acrylic in the eye. That small highlight brought the piece to life.
In the end, this wasn’t about copying Picasso. It was about learning from his way of simplifying with a different approach I have learnt ages ago.
💭 What I Learned
Each surface revealed something unique:
Aquabord taught patience and deliberate pacing.
Copper showed that not every surface is meant for watercolor, but every experiment deepens understanding.
Hot press paper reaffirmed how smoothness preserves color vibrancy and immediacy.
Together, they reminded me that surface isn’t just material — it’s a collaborator.
It shapes not only how watercolor behaves, but how we listen, adapt, and express.
✨ Closing Reflection
Picasso’s Bull began as complexity and ended as clarity. I think that’s what these surfaces did for me — they made me simplify not just my lines, but my expectations.
Because what we paint on doesn’t just hold the paint.
It holds our process.
It’s one thing to talk about how surfaces change us — but another to watch it happen in real time.
In the video below, you’ll see how each brushstroke felt different, how Aquabord tested my patience, and how returning to paper finally felt like coming home.
