The Power of Three
How a Limited Palette Teaches Color Theory and Calms the Nervous System
Mar 02, 2026
The red recording light in Adobe Audition has been steady for two weeks — even on the days I wasn’t.
Psychological thriller. Tight deadline.A talented author whose words deserve every ounce of care I can give them.
It felt good to be performing.It felt good to stretch my creative muscle, to learn and grow with this book. (Oh, how I love a good suspense!)
But my stamina isn’t what it was before Christmas.My voice has had to remember how to endure long days again now that we are coming out of the slow season in publishing.
And underneath all of that?
Snow.
Too. Much. Snow.
A foot of it here in rural Ohio has come and gone. It was the the kind that arrived fast and stayed because the temperatures refused to budge. The kind that settles into your bones without you realizing it until you ached all over.
We rely on a cistern under the front porch to collect rainwater from the roof.
We didn’t realize we were nearly out until the day the storm hit.
And once the cold set in, everything froze — including the filling stations. The dump truck wouldn’t start. Even if it had, there was nowhere to go. Nobody was delivering water because everything was frozen.
So we conserved.
For over three weeks.
Showers at the gym.Showers at our parents’ houses.Snow packed into rain barrels and buckets.Melted on the stove so we could wash dishes.Melted for the goats in the barn.
The house felt tight in a way I can’t quite explain.The kind of tight that doesn’t announce itself until your body finally gives out.
About three weeks into this craziness, my body crashed.
My voice was tired.My brain was foggy.My body didn’t want to do anything but take up space. (5 more pounds of space, to be exact!)
It must have been more stressful than I realized.
The art I made during those weeks?
Minimal.Careful.Strategic.
No messy rinsing jars.No elaborate clean-up.No sprawling experiments that required gallons of water we didn’t have.
When I’m really stressed, creativity can slip into the back seat.
I become one major block.
And yet — it matters to me to make something every day.
Even if it’s small.Even if it’s simple.Even if it’s only three colors.
Especially three colors.
When Everything Feels Heavy, I Reach for What I Love
When I’m exhausted, I don’t experiment with unfamiliar palettes.
I don’t reach for colors I’m unsure about.
I reach for my happy colors:
Ultramarine Blue.Black.Magenta.
They feel like home.
Magenta makes me smile before the brush even hits the page.Ultramarine carries depth without demanding drama.And black — when handled gently — becomes shadow, grounding, quiet strength.
If you mix ultramarine blue with black the right way, you get something very close to Payne’s Gray.
One of my all-time favorite colors.
It feels like winter sky just before dusk.
Yep. Three colors hits the sweet spot for me.
The Power of Limitation (Especially When You’re Tired)
When your nervous system is tired, abundance is not helpful.
Forty paint tubes on the table is not inspiring.
It’s overwhelming. (like going to the art supply store overwhelming.)
Too many choices to pile on top of winter-weary season.
Limiting yourself to three colors does something important:
It removes decision fatigue.It softens perfectionism.It gives your hands something to do while your brain rests.
And quietly, without fanfare, it teaches color theory.
Watercolor: The Gentle Surrender
I love the gentleness of watercolors as they move across the page and merge with each other. It’s ok if I can’t make a “finished” piece out of this. The process was enough to help slow my breathing and allow me to find calm in the craziness of a storm that shut everything down for days.
In watercolor, those three colors become fluid teachers.
Ultramarine diluted becomes atmosphere.Magenta softened with water becomes blush instead of bold.Black, used sparingly, creates shadow without heaviness.
Value shifts come through water.Tone emerges through layering.Neutrals form almost accidentally when colors bleed together.
With watercolor, I don’t have to force anything.
It feels forgiving.
When we were melting snow on the stove and conserving every drop, watercolor reminded me that restraint can be beautiful.
Acrylic: The Quiet Strength
I used an old gift card to move the paint around. It took some time manipulating, but I can now see what could be the beginning of an abstract waterfall. Maybe I’ll go back to those old travel pics from Hawai’i and find a reference photo and continue to work on this one.
In acrylic, those same three colors behave differently.
They require mixing.
Deliberation.
Ultramarine and black must be blended with intention to reach that Payne’s Gray depth. The Magenta seems to have disappeared so I cheated and added a few splashes of yellow.
Value shifts require white or contrast. I had to add white to the canvas, because everything was too dark. In watercolor, the paint is transparent, but acrylic needs a little help here. Tone comes from layering and coverage.
Acrylic feels sturdier when compared to watercolor.
Less surrender.More structure.
On the days my voice was tired from narrating dark chapters and my body felt heavy from weeks of low-level stress, acrylic let me build something bold.
Even if I felt wobbly.
What This Practice Taught Me
Three colors were enough to:
Explore hue through repetition
Understand value through dilution or layering
Discover tone through mixture
Build cohesion across pages
But more than that?
They were enough to keep me moving.
Intuitive abstract practice doesn’t require brilliance.It requires openness — and a willingness to begin.
When I’m stressed, my brain wants control.When I’m tired, it wants to shut down.
A limited palette gives my hands permission to keep going without asking too much of either.
Into Your Hands: The Three-Color Reset
If you’re in a season where everything feels like a lot, try this:
Choose three colors you love.
Not the ones you “should” use.Not the one the trendy YouTuber used.Not the challenging ones.
The ones that feel like home.
Open your sketchbook.
On one page, use watercolor only.On the next, use acrylic only.
Keep it intuitive.
No sketching.No plan.No performance.
Let watercolor flow.Let acrylic build.
Notice:
Where value shifts easily.
Where tone deepens.
Where two colors create a quiet neutral.
Where you feel relaxed.
Where you feel steady.
Follow the Spark
If you want to deepen the practice:
Use the same three colors for an entire week.
Explore extreme dilution in watercolor.
Try the same practice with fluid acrylics.
Explore heavy layering in acrylic with a palette knife.
Try mixing ultramarine and black to create your own version of Payne’s Gray.
Write a few lines about how each medium felt in your body.
Did one feel like rest?Did one feel like resilience?
Sometimes art isn’t about pushing forward.
Sometimes it’s about staying connected when life gets cold and tight and unexpectedly heavy.
Three colors can carry you through more than you think.
And sometimes, the simplest palette is the most generous one.
With magenta joy and winter sky gray,
Jenn 🎨
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