Moonlight Creatures: Florida Watercolor Paintings
- Katerina Miller
- Oct 2
- 3 min read
Updated: Oct 27
Florida is a strange and beautiful place. Every evening, its swamps, skies, and backyards reveal creatures that look as though they crawled out of myths: owls with glowing eyes, serpents winding through mangroves, flamingos bleeding red into the sea. These paintings were born from that twilight mystery — small watercolors, each 5x7 inches, each a slice of Florida nature captured on paper.
The flamingo stands tall under a full moon, its feathers dissolving into reflections of crimson water. An alligator creeps out of the swamp, its eyes glowing yellow, the night itself bending around its presence. Three burrowing owls perch like sentinels, at once serious and absurd, their oversized eyes fixed on the viewer. A Burmese python coils through Everglades shadows, massive and ancient. And even the mosquito — Florida’s most infamous insect — appears monumental, lit up as though it were a proud emblem of this state’s swampy soul.
Together, these works form a little homage to the animals that surround us here, part of Florida’s wild mythology that seeps into daily life.
Why I Painted This
I painted this because I needed some relief from my huge, deep oil masterpieces — the ones that demand true submersion in the process. These watercolors are nothing like that. They are quick, simple, easy. At first, I enjoy it. Like a vacation. No mental effort, just skill. But then something rises in me, like a demon laughing in my face: What the fuck are you doing?
Did I really doom myself down to this level? After years of reading, studying, suffering, learning — for this? Stupid animal-nature bullshit that a first grader, or any life-loving idiot, could paint. And worse — the pet portrait market flashes before my eyes. Drooling dogs, happy owners, “best-selling” pet artists stroking their egos. I can smell them. Disgusting. It will never be enough to stroke mine.
Every time I waste my hours on things like this, I get angry. Because I know I’ve stolen time away from real work. From masterpieces. And the worst part? The comments. Friends and family thinking I finally painted something “cute” or “shareable.” Finally she’s happy, at peace. Finally something Florida-y, something fun. Owls, reptiles, mosquitoes — isn’t that so you? “You’re such a great artist, you should paint rocks next.”
That’s when my chest cramps. I gasp for air. Not just air — the fresh air of real art. Of pure art that only I can make. Not this repetitive, crowd-pleasing garbage.
I have to forgive myself for these little off-course shits because meanwhile Sardonic Smile is brewing in my studio. That painting is flesh and blood. Layers of glaze built over time, feelings dragged up from the unconscious. It’s demanding, brutal, everything these watercolors are not. Can’t wait to drive another nail into its flesh. Or maybe make one push its way out from the inside. To study the bruise, the swelling, to let the process rot on camera like rust in real time.
That is the path. The only path. The one no pet portrait specialist could ever dream of. The art that asks you: yes, finally. Or no, this is shit, you’re failing. That’s what I want. That’s what I need.
Let’s see if anyone likes these little watercolor shits. But don’t dare confuse them with my old teenage Watercolor Decadence series — that was purity, probably my best work before I even realized what it was all about.
However…Live. Laugh. Love. And stay tuned for my upcoming Halloween watercolor series inspired by Target.
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