All of the world is connected. Some connections form easily. Others are strained, broken, or misaligned—and we emerge changed as a result.
As I paint—building a finished miniature step by step, layer by layer—I’ve come to realize that the practice of miniature painting closely mirrors the art of finding, maintaining, and nurturing human relationships.
In this article, I stream some ideas about what painting minis can teach us connection, that dynamic forming and maintaining of relationships. Even broken ones.
1. Colors Come Together Naturally, or They Fight
There is a problem in color theory. Often… it surprises you.
There is a term in painting called color harmony. It describes how well colors feel and appear when they exist together. A thoughtful color scheme—whether on a tabletop miniature, a Warhammer model, or a gaming figure—is more than visually pleasing. It is quietly inspiring.
The cool blues of twilight balanced against the warmth of a setting sun carry a kind of universal beauty. They resonate without explanation.
In nature, it is rare to find a combination of colors that truly does not work.
It is our human faults that we find some colors feel as though they were never meant to meet. There are reds that fight purples. Oranges that resist blues.
(You could take the epistemological route and say that without humans, no such problem would exists. But we digress into another realm of philosophy).
People are like this.
We call it “chemistry” when two people connect. When they don’t, the absence is just as obvious. We often describe chemistry as emotional or abstract, but at its core, it is biological. Something fundamental either aligns—or it doesn’t.
When chemistry works, connection feels effortless. When it fails, tension follows.
So the question becomes simple, but difficult.
What do you do then?
How do you resolve conflict—in color, or in people?
2. Bringing the Colors Together
When painting a miniature, especially while blending colors, conflict eventually appears. Two colors push against each other. They refuse to cooperate.
Good news….Glazes and shades exist for to address this problem!
A glaze introduces a third element—something that mediates between opposing colors. It alters the relationship without erasing either side. Transitions soften. Harmony becomes possible.
The same principle applies to relationships. That independent mediator (“the glaze”) meets between the two parties.
You introduce a shared activity. A conversation. A boundary, perhaps. Like a glaze, this independent element changes the relationship. Sometimes subtly. Sometimes permanently.
The process works. Glazing is amazing; but as I’ve learned myself, even the thinnest glaze shifts hue, saturation, and value. The colors are no longer exactly what they were.
Ever try applying Seraphim Sepia over a bright yellow paint? It’s beautiful, but it shifts the yellow toward a deeper hue.
Human relationships behave the same way. Any attempt to resolve conflict reshapes the connection itself.
3. Relationships Never Reach Perfection
This may be why miniature painting never truly feels finished.
Even after the final coat of matte varnish dries, we notice what could have been done better. A highlight that went too far. A blend that could have been smoother. We imagine revisions.
Sometimes we even feel tempted to strip the model back to bare plastic and start over. Or, walk away.
But there’s a cost in lost time and opportunity. Going backwards sucks. Not true in every case, but reverting to the past suggests a refusal to acknowledge the experience and accept it as a milestone that marks your path forward.
Relationships share this same dilemma. Build or destory?
Any honest relationship is dynamic. Flaws exist, so cracks appear under pressure. And still, we ought to value the connection, however faulty. I would like to treat my human efforts as something alive rather than fixed.
It’s a lesson familiar to characters like Samwise Gamgee: You don’t need perfection—just the resolve to keep going.
Differences remain. Tension may persist. Keep going!
Even when two colors on a miniature resist each other, the act of trying to understand them—to see each from another angle—is what allows the work to continue and move forward.
3. Connection Is How We Resist Despair
Hope is a concept rooted in the future. It is the value we place on what might be. Despair denies the horizon, and charts a tunnel with no light.
Hope is simply an anchored goal—a direction that pulls us forward. It is how we move toward our values, whether those aims are good or bad. Yes, you can hope for evil—some people want to watch the world burn.
…But to the point: I’m saying it is a mindset. Miniature painting is more than a physical hobby.
It is the act of taking something lifeless and patiently building meaning through relationships—of color, form, light, and shadow. In trying to understand these relationships and improve them, something shifts within us.
Painting becomes an outlet for the human need to connect—both inwardly and outwardly.
Miniature painting takes isolated pieces and brings them together into something, an idea, that can be studied, touched, and given a real space to land.
Final Thought
Miniature painting is a fight. A battlescape. Peace is not a default. When you engage in any creative process—painting, writing—you enter a pitched battle.
Colors resist. Relationships strain. You have to want something badly to keep doing this creative, connection thing.
So the question is simple: What keeps you going?
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