For me, drawing the moon is part tutorial, part meditation — I like to start with atmosphere instead of structure. I’ll block in a soft background wash first, whether I’m working digitally or with watercolors; a slightly desaturated indigo or deep teal helps the moon feel luminous without being flat. Then I lay down a very light circular guide and, instead of trying to fill in everything at once, I focus on the big light and dark shapes: the maria, the large basins, and the obvious shadow line.
After the broad tones feel right, I refine with texture. I use stippling, cross-hatching, or a low-opacity textured brush to suggest craters and pockmarks. Blending is subtle — I keep a hard edge where the terminator (the daylight/dark boundary) lands, and feather the rest for a soft glow. If I want a realistic vibe I add a faint atmosphere halo and a dusting of faint stars; for stylized art I exaggerate contrast and throw in teal or warm rim light. I always finish by squinting: if the silhouette reads from a distance, the piece is successful. It’s calming work, and I often find the final glow makes the whole sketch feel like a small victory.