Getting Back Into the Flow
Every few years, I seem to go through a phase where I don’t paint. It’s often for a few months. It used to worry me. Would I start painting again? Wasn’t it important to me? What kind of artist am I? But after having gone through the process a few times, I’ve learned to let it ride until I’m back, making time, and ready to pick up the brush again.
The Public and the Private Self
I think we all have some elevated vision of ourselves— who we think we are or want to be— and painting can bring us closer to that. On a personal level, if I’m being honest, I decided at some point (although “decided” is a funny word—more that I lived my way into being, falling in love with certain artists and writers, and one day recognized I already wanted this, and had been working toward it for some time)… One day, I decided that I wanted to paint as well as Monet and write as well as Mary Oliver, or Neruda. To have that command of color and language, that vigor in my brushwork and cadence. That I wanted to see the world through those kind of eyes. I know, it’s sacrilege, but one might as well aim high. I’m sure you have your own idols. And that’s part of why going through a spell where you’re not painting or writing— not creating— can be so frustrating. There’s a schism between who you think you are and what you’re actually doing. And definitively, whether it’s healthy or not, that desire to have those two selves match is stronger now for me than it used to be, now that I sell work, teach, and such. As if there’s a responsibility to have my “private painter” agree with the public one.
Ted Kooser (an American poet) writes in The Poetry Home Repair Manual that you should craft your poems until they’re truly as good as you can make them, to keep them in a drawer for a few months and come back with fresh eyes, when you’re not so hot on your own work, that it’s hard for younger poets to believe that no one’s waiting for their poems, that it’s not a race, that first it is the desires of your own self (that ideal reader which writers sometimes speak of) you should be trying to satisfy. I think this is sage advice for creating of almost any kind, if you’re really serious about it. Because it’s easy to burn out, if you’re not satisfying yourself first as an artist.
So, over time I’ve discovered that a) whether it’s realistic or not, creators tend to have a high (over-inflated?) opinion of their work— or atleast I certainly do! LOL!, and yet b) folks aren’t waiting with bated breath for your next painting- they’d love to see it when you get there, but they’re living their own fantastic lives at the moment, thankyouverymuch, and that c) counter to my original thinking, it can be very healing to not paint for a while, if you really let go. As Diane DiPrima (a stellar beat writer and poet) once said to us in a class, “It was very liberating to recognize that in 10,000 years all the pages I ever wrote will have turned to dust”. When I get back to it, I get back to it, and then I’m revving and ready to go. I should paint what I need to paint. It’s not a race, and there’s no award.
Be Sure To Make Some Crappy Paintings!
We recently stumbled upon the Headlsburg winery area, while driving out to get a bee box for my Kate. We toodled around a bit. It was late in the day, the light was lovely, and I was taking pictures left and right.
A few days later, I announced I was ready to paint again. Of course, we all presumed things weren’t going to go well, because historically-speaking that’s how it works after a long break. So, as Kate left the house she lovingly called out, “Be sure and make some crappy paintings today!” And I obliged. This is a joke in our house, but it helps lower the bar for “success”. ;)
Once I decide I want to paint again, when I feel frustrated that I keep letting other (less important) things get in the way, the hardest part is actually getting going. When painting is a habit, you let the habit itself carry you over the threshold into the creative act. It’s great to be part way through a project- that can carry you far. But starting from scratch is tough—partly because all my other responsibilities are still calling to me, nagging me, but also because the ego doesn’t like failing. And I’ve learned that it’s a bumpy ride getting going. Early work is always less than stellar.
Then I paused and thought— “Ok. Lets slow down a bit. I should follow my own process, wet the back of the paper, and zoom in a bit.” So I rotated the composition, wet the back, and hit it again.
I finished the day less than satisfied with my work, but as I said before, in our house we’ve learned to accept and joke that some days “just making a crappy painting” is success—that showing up and putting in the work is part of the process.
Following My Own Rules
When you’re painting all the time, I think you can break the rules, and good things will come of it. But when I’m “getting back into the flow”, I find it’s better to return to the source. Simplify things, choose subjects that are in my wheelhouse, and follow my own rules. Let myself have a little taste of success.
So I shrunk my paper down to the 8”x 8” squares I had been doing, because a) painting smaller is easier technically (it’s what I always tell students to do) and b) the small square compositions really helped me decide what the one main focal point was. I wet the back. I went back to the brushes I knew best. I probably should have sketched it out. Anyways, I took my time. Let my layers dry, controlled my water, and planned where I wanted to let it fly.
It’s not the Mona Lisa, but it’s better. I’ll take this little taste of success for now, and let it help guide me back to making again.
Happy painting, folks!