Blog

    In my recent newsletter I mentioned a few of the obstacles to concentration that have popped up in my life recently. That seemed to hit a chord with some readers and indeed I think it's a fairly universal issue. Sometimes these bumps in the road get resolved quickly but other times, when they drag on for a while or too many plates start to fall at the same time, it can definitely be a challenge to pick up where you left off even when getting back to the easel is your fondest wish. Speaking for myself, nothing realigns my brain cells in their proper order quite like painting but that doesn't mean I won't drag my feet at the daunting prospect of getting myself back up to speed.

         The solutions are probably as varied as the motivations people have for why they create art to begin with, so keep this in mind when I talk how I deal with these situations. Also, whatever has benefitted me in the past doesn't necessarily work today so this is definitely not a one size fits all type of advice. First of all, I should explain that I consider myself to be a recovering perfectionist and I think a lot of other artists struggle with this as well. That one characteristic explains a lot of the resistance I have to getting back to painting after an extended interruption. I'm afraid I won't be able to please myself, hate the idea that I might get interrupted again, feel like I should make up for lost time, have lots of other chores to do, etc., etc. What I've learned after dealing with this so many times is that the volume of all of that chatter will drop quickly once I switch off the judge-y, perfectionist mindset and reengage my creative, adventurous side.  To do that, my go-to technique is to trick myself. I lower the bar of expectations to as close to zero as I can get it and tell myself I'm just going to go in the studio to do whatever --- make some shapes or get some brushes wet. Sometimes I just start stretching canvas. When I can relax my mind and start fiddling around with all of my art stuff,  I will almost invariably notice a group of objects creating a visual interest or spot an old study I had given up on. The ideas start trickling in. I think of it as just listening but it's pretty similar to the mindset I had when I set out to make mud pies as a kid. (If you weren't allowed to make mud pies as a kid, by all means, work toward giving yourself permission now!) That's when curiosity and a spark of adventurousness takes over. At that point it can still be easy to slip back into a dialog in my head about the things I'm expecting of myself , the things I hope to accomplish or things I imagine other people are expecting of me but the discipline is to not bite the hook and indulge those tangents that will lead me back away from the creative, playful space I'm trying to gain access to. Sometimes this can involve a lot of fits and starts but once I'm really in that 'zone' or whatever you want to call it, it's never a problem staying there for the day so I focus all of my attention on just getting started.  Everything flows from that and most of the creative or break-though ideas I've ever had have come from being in that space of curiosity. In my experience, inspiration follows the effort rather than the other way around.

    While I'm always very appreciative to be one of the lucky ones who have been able to make painting a profession, it can be sort of a double-edged sword when it comes to motivation. Too much pressure isn't great and neither is too little, but rarely is it evenly balanced. When my goal is, as Hawthorne would say, to be 'humble before nature', the noise generated by the ups and downs of the art business and just the art scene in general, can be overwhelming -- more like a deafening roar. Urging myself to 'hurry up and be spontaneous' is a contradiction hard to wrap my head around. While having commitments off in the distance can be a nudge in getting myself to move past creative blocks, if I let that timeline get too short it's the very opposite. That's just me though. I've seen many artists who seem to adore the adrenaline rush of missing a deadline. At any rate, I try to keep business and creativity as separate as I can and not confuse the two.

      What I've settled into for myself isn't a confidence boosting pep talk nor a stern drill sergeant lecture on willpower. Those might work in the short run but don't have a lot of staying power because they aren't very fun, involve elements that are beyond my control and seldom produce the kind of results I'm hoping for. Instead, when sanity beckons I go to the studio and it's more like that old saying ---just get in there and do something even if it's wrong. No waiting for a grand idea. No talent test I have to pass. No need to justify what I'm doing. If I'm creating with a curious state of mind then I'm adding my 2 cents to this age old practice we call art. At the same time I'm minding my own business and not bothering anybody else, which in my opinion the world could use a lot more of. With practice and some awareness of intrusive and unhelpful thought patterns, it becomes easier to make the leap to that creative space. From there, it might be bliss, tear-my-hair out frustrating, or anything in-between, but I always feel better for having made the effort and it's never boring.

      The technique I've outlined above is all about maneuvering myself toward facing a blank canvas but I have a slightly different twist when working on a piece that needs correction or some finishing touches. I always tell myself to never make any one painting too precious, but still, a lot of time, energy and materials will have gone into a piece that I'm in the process of completing, which can make the prospect of investing more time and energy even more intimidating. This is never my favorite part of the painting process, but again, once I get going and my curiosity kicks in, it's pretty easy to stay with it. What I always do is concentrate first on the areas that I'm certain I want to make changes on. If an object needs more definition or looks wonky, that gets dealt with first. If several areas need tweaking I tackle them in the order of their proximity to the center of interest. At this point, the paint is usually dry and I take it one stroke at a time. If a stroke doesn't feel right I'll put some medium on a cloth or paper towel and carefully blot or wipe it back off. Painstaking work to be sure, but if instead I started out diving head first into a relatively unimportant area because that seemed safer somehow, I could easily disrupt the balance of relationships and end up more or less repainting the entire canvas. Usually that doesn't work well for me and isn't a good look. On the other hand, by going first for the areas I'm certain I want to adjust, some of the less prominent areas of the painting I was on the fence about often end up needing a lot less attention or possibly none at all. In practice all of this is less organized and messier than it probably sounds as I'm trying to explain it but basically, when in doubt, I return to the center of interest and retrace my steps relating everything from there. I try to stop at the minimum changes necessary to call it a finished piece and put it away to look at again later with a fresh eye. Alternatively, I might hang the piece up somewhere that it can catch my peripheral vision so rather than staring at it until my eyes cross, in a sense I try to recreate the effect of of first impressions. If something repeatedly jumps out when the painting pops into my range of vision then I'll make further adjustments, but I don't attempt to force the process all at once unless there's an immediate deadline coming up. 

      One further suggestion for anyone feeling stuck is to pick up a copy of Art & Fear: Observations on the Perils (and Rewards) of Artmaking by David Bayles and Ted Orland. It's a small paperback that can be stashed in your paint box. The classics Hawthorne on Painting  and The Art Spirit are also great to keep nearby for moral support --- the type of books where artists can turn to almost any page and find something they need to hear.

     Above all, pay attention to what actually works for you. Not what you think should work, but what actually ignites that spark and makes you to want to keep following it. 

              "The object isn't to make art, it's to be in that wonderful state which makes art inevitable."

                                                                          --- Robert Henri , The Art Spirit