If you're an artist, you know that lighting is EVERYTHING. So, when I relocated and rented my new place, I chose to set up my painting space in the open floor plan—right near the dining area with all that glorious natural light. Cream-colored carpet aside, I’ve done my best to protect the area with plastic under my easel and a chair mat. I thought I had it all under control. Famous last words, right?
Picture this:
I’m walking across the carpet, shaking my almost-new 8-ounce jar of Golden heavy body acrylic paint in burnt sienna. Why was I shaking it? Who knows? Just artist things. Suddenly, I feel something… off. That’s when it happens—an explosion of burnt sienna everywhere. And I mean EVERYWHERE. The lid wasn’t on tightly, and now it looks like I’ve recreated a crime scene on my landlord’s cream carpet. Two-foot-long splatters in multiple areas, and I’m standing there holding the jar like, "What just happened?!"
First thought: Maybe my new neighbor has a carpet cleaner? Then I remember I’ve already borrowed something from her once, and we’re not quite at “persistent mess-maker” levels of friendship yet. Second thought: How do I tell my landlord? “Oops, sorry about your house?"
Finally, the panic propels me into action. I grab my palette knife (yes, you read that right) and start scraping paint off the carpet and back into the jar. Carpet fibers add texture, right? But the stains… oh, they spread. It’s a mess getting messier.
The Cat!
Just as I’m starting to feel a sliver of hope, my ORANGE cat decides to investigate. He saunters right into the chaos, curious as ever, and he does not have the brain cell today. Cue me rolling on the floor, trying to stop him from stepping into the paint and tracking paw prints all over the house. Thankfully, he eventually takes refuge in the bedroom, but not before I realize my rolling around has spread even more paint splatter from me to the carpet. Great. The best thing to do now is get naked to stop the paint spread!
Next, it’s a mad dash for towels. One soaked towel turns into five, six... TEN! Carbona, laundry stain spray, and some ancient carpet cleaner from the back of the cabinet all make an appearance. Scrub, soak, repeat. And you know what? It starts to come out. Slowly but surely, the cream carpet begins to resemble its former self. Crisis averted… mostly. I mean, I googled, and they suggested acetone if the water did not work...maybe my neighbor has some? HA!
The Neighbors?
Laying on the ground, naked and scrubbing like my life depends on it, I realize 2 things simultaneously: 1. Remember the great light I talked about? Light = windows. I sure hope my neighbors did not see anything. 2. There is probably more paint somewhere. I slowly bring my gaze to the underside of my desk… and there it is. Globs of paint on the underside. How? I have no idea. Then I see the walls. Yep, paint there too. And let’s not forget the 10-foot ceilings. (Seriously, how?!)
I did make a conscious decision to NOT take photos of the carnage so I could try to clean it up before it dried - now I am kind of regretting that decision lol!
The one silver lining in all this? I hadn’t started a painting yet, so no art in progress was ruined. Small mercies.
For now, the jar of burnt sienna has been banished to a shameful corner of the studio, and I’m left wondering: Has anyone else ever done something this ridiculous? Please tell me I’m not the only one who’s made a big mess and lived to tell the tale. Share your stories and let me know I’m not alone in this chaotic, paint-splattered world!