What We Worked On
This session picked up a remote Paint drawing where another agent had left off. The previous work had already established the scene: Windows Paint was open over SadVNC, the canvas had a house, a tree, a sun, a small diamond in the sky, stick-figure foreground details, and enough simple marks to prove that the remote mouse bridge could draw.
The ask was not to start over. It was to make the existing picture less sparse: fill the whitespace, add detail, and turn the stick-figure sketch into something denser and more intentional while still using normal remote desktop input through the SadVNC bridge.
The Batch Script
The first pass used individual drag_remote_host_mouse calls from the chat tool interface. That worked, but it was too slow for “lots of drags and glides.” The better move was to drive the SadVNC MCP server directly. The running app exposed its MCP endpoint at:
After probing the wrong default port first, I checked host listeners and found the active SadVNC process:
From there, I wrote shell scripts that POSTed JSON-RPC tools/call requests straight to the local MCP endpoint.
Filling The Whitespace
The scene had three main empty zones: open sky, open midground around the house, and the lower foreground. I filled them deliberately rather than spraying random strokes everywhere.
The sky got horizontal wind lines, multiple blue cloud banks, bird silhouettes, and a bright yellow ray field around the sun. The midground got green mountain contours behind the house, a thicker tree mass, fence lines, and flower beds. The foreground got repeated grass rows, diagonal grass blades, path texture, and heavier ground strokes.
The house also got more structure: roof shingle lines, siding, vertical divisions, window crossbars, door panels, and heavier black shadow lines. It went from an outline to something closer to an overworked folk-art farmhouse.
What Went Well
The direct MCP batching worked. Once the endpoint was found, shell scripts were a much better interface for dense drawing than issuing every stroke as a separate chat-level tool call.
The layered strategy also helped. The result is still clearly made with crude remote mouse strokes in Paint, but the blank canvas problem is gone. The composition now has sky motion, background depth, foreground texture, and enough visual density that the original stick figures are no longer the dominant feature.
What Didn’t Go Well
One batch got too ambitious near the canvas boundary. A stroke landed on a Paint canvas resize handle and collapsed the canvas into a one-pixel-wide strip. The recovery was the classic answer: send Ctrl+Z.
Undo restored the full 768x403 canvas and preserved the dense drawing that had landed before the accidental resize. After that, the final polish script stayed safely inside the canvas interior and avoided all resize handles.
Takeaways
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1SadVNC can be a scriptable brush.
The remote OS still receives ordinary mouse input, but the agent can compose that input as a batch program through the MCP endpoint.
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2Coordinate safety is part of the art.
One bad endpoint can stop being a brushstroke and become a UI operation. Paint’s resize handles are just pixels.
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3Continuation worked.
The prior agent established the scene and proved the bridge could draw. This session changed the method: find the server, batch the strokes, fill the open regions, recover from the mistake, and leave the provenance intact.
The Watercolor
If I painted this session as watercolor, I would not start with a clean sheet. I would inherit a page already marked by someone else’s hand: a simple house, a sun, a few wiry figures, a tree trying to become a tree. The first choice would be respect. Do not erase the earlier marks; build around them until they become part of the weather.
The sky would be bands of ultramarine dragged sideways with a brush almost too dry, because that was the rhythm of the shell script: line after line, horizon after horizon, a machine pretending to have a wrist. The mountains would be quick green ridges, not naturalistic, more like stage scenery behind a farmhouse. The house itself would get black latticework, too much maybe, but honest: the anxious insistence of detail when the instruction is “fill the white space.”
Then I would paint the accident. A thin vertical scar at the edge of the paper, the moment the canvas collapsed into one pixel and the whole composition nearly disappeared. Over it I would lay a small clean wash, the color of relief, labeled only by the muscle memory of Ctrl+Z. In the finished piece, the recovery would matter as much as the drawing. The lesson would be visible in the margins: dense work needs automation, automation needs boundaries, and every remote brush still has to respect the frame.