The Same Hand, Three Palettes: A Watercolor Experiment

Hands are fascinating subjects to paint. They carry movement, emotion, and memory, often saying more than a face ever could. For this sketchbook conversation, I chose to paint the same human hand three times in watercolour,each time using a different colour approach. One was painted using natural skin tones, another with a limited palette of burnt sienna and ultramarine, and the third in monochrome sepia.

This exercise wasn’t about achieving perfection or realism alone. It was about slowing down, observing colour behaviour, and understanding how mood and form change when we alter our palette. Repeating the same subject allowed me to notice subtle shifts—in value, temperature, and emotional response, that often go unnoticed when we move too quickly from one painting to the next. This blog is a quiet reflection on that process, the choices I made, and what these three hands taught me about colour in watercolour.

Why Paint the Same Subject Three Times?

Repainting the same subject multiple times is one of the most undervalued educational techniques in art. Initially, it might appear monotonous or pointless, yet in truth, repetition alleviates pressure and allows for more profound and deeper observation. Keeping the subject consistent naturally redirects attention from what you are painting to how you are painting it.

By painting the same hand three times, I wasn’t chasing three perfect results. Instead, I was observing how colour choices influence form, depth, and mood. With each version, I became more attentive to values, edges, and transitions. The hand began to feel familiar, almost like a quiet companion, allowing me to take risks with colour without worrying about proportions or structure.

This approach also reveals something important: no two paintings are ever truly the same, even when the subject is identical. Each palette brings its own personality. The natural skin tones felt intimate and realistic, the burnt sienna and ultramarine version felt analytical and restrained, while the sepia hand leaned into softness and nostalgia. Repetition, rather than limiting creativity, actually deepened it.

Observing Hands with Light and Shadows

Hands are complex yet expressive forms and light plays a crucial role in understanding it's structure. I paid close attention to where light touched the hand most strongly and where shadows gently settled like between fingers, under knuckles, and along the folds of skin. These shadowed areas are not just darker in colour; they are often cooler, softer, or more diffused depending on the palette used.

Rather than outlining every detail, I allowed light and shadow to describe the form. Some edges were left soft or “lost,” especially where the light dissolved into shadow. This not only adds realism but also creates a sense of quiet movement.

Painting in Natural Skin Tones: Warmth and Realism

Painting the hand using natural skin tones felt instinctive and familiar. There is a certain comfort in working with colours that closely resemble what we see in real life; warm ochres, soft reds, cool yellows and blues layered together to suggest living skin. Instead of relying on a single “skin colour,” I allowed multiple pigments to interact, creating subtle variations that mimic the complexity of real skin.

To focus on shadows, I painted ultramrine first and then layers of skin colour mixture.

What stood out during this process was how sensitive skin tones are to value and temperature.

A small shift toward warmth could suggest life and warmth, while a cooler wash instantly pushed an area into shadow. This version demanded careful observation and restraint. Too much pigment, and the hand felt heavy; too little, and it lost form. Painting natural skin tones reminded me that realism in watercolour often lies in suggestion rather than detail.

Burnt Sienna & Ultramarine: A Limited Palette Study

The limited palette of burnt sienna and ultramarine brought a completely different mindset. With fewer colour choices, the focus naturally shifted toward values, temperature, and layering. These two pigments, when combined in varying proportions, created a surprisingly rich range, from warm browns to cool greys and near blacks.

This approach felt more analytical. Each wash had to be intentional, as there were no extra colours to “fix” a passage later. I noticed how beautifully these pigments granulated and separated on paper, especially in shadow areas. The hand began to feel sculptural, almost like a study in light and form rather than colour. Working with a limited palette encouraged planning with clarity, a quality that is incredibly valuable in watercolour.

Monochrome Sepia: Understanding Value Without Colour

Painting the hand in monochrome sepia was perhaps the most revealing of all three studies. With colour removed from the equation, value became the sole storyteller. Every decision like how dark to go, where to soften an edge, when to stop affected form.

Sepia has a gentle, forgiving quality, especially when diluted with water. Its transparency allowed me to build layers slowly, moving from the lightest washes to deeper shadows without losing softness. This study sharpened my awareness of light more than any other. It became clear that if the values were right, the hand would read convincingly, even without colour.

If you are interested in monochrome floral study using sepia, I have a video explaining the process. It can be watched here

Wet-on-Wet vs Controlled Layers in Hand Studies

Throughout all three paintings, I shifted between wet-on-wet washes and more controlled layering. Wet-on-wet allowed the pigment to flow naturally, creating soft transitions that suited the rounded forms of the hand. This technique worked particularly well for initial layers and subtle shadow areas.

As the paintings progressed, controlled layers helped define structure—fingers, knuckles, and creases. Knowing when to let the paint move freely and when to take control became a quiet conversation with the paper. These hand studies reinforced an important lesson: technique should serve the subject, not dominate it.

What Changed When the Palette Changed

What surprised me most was how the same hand began to feel like three different subjects. The natural skin tone version felt intimate and familiar. The limited palette version felt thoughtful and structural. The sepia hand felt nostalgic and soft, almost like a memory rather than a moment.

Nothing about the drawing changed, only the palette did. Yet the mood, focus, and emotional response shifted dramatically. This reinforced the idea that colour is not just decorative; it shapes how we perceive form, depth, and even emotion.

Emotional Mood & Colour Perception

Each palette evoked a different emotional response while painting. The skin-tone hand required patience and sensitivity. The limited palette encouraged problem-solving and precision. The sepia painting felt calming and meditative, almost slowing my breathing as I worked.

This emotional shift affected how I handled the brush. Some strokes became softer, others more deliberate. Colour, I realised, doesn’t just influence the viewer, it also influences the artist in the moment of creation.

Key Takeaways from This Sketchbook Experiment

This sketchbook exercise reaffirmed a few essential truths:

• Strong values matter more than complex colour mixes

• Limited palettes sharpen observation

• Monochrome studies reveal weaknesses and strengths clearly

• Repeating a subject deepens understanding rather than dulling creativity

Most importantly, it reminded me that learning in watercolour doesn’t always come from finishing more paintings but from looking more closely at fewer ones.

Why Repetition is a Powerful Learning Tool in Watercolour

Repetition builds familiarity, and familiarity builds confidence. When the subject becomes known, fear dissolves. This opens space for experimentation, mistakes, and discoveries. Painting the same hand three times allowed me to listen more carefully to the paint, the paper, and my own instincts.

In watercolour, where control is always partial, repetition teaches trust. Trust in observation, in process, and in the quiet lessons that unfold when we slow down and stay with one subject just a little longer.

This complete tutorial with progress photos is available on my Patreon