Attachment and the Importance of Failure

Winter's Designs 12 x 9

   When you make your living as an artist, it is easy to get attached to the final product in your painting.  When a painting does not succeed, it feels like the day has been unproductive.  I want every painting to be a painting that I am proud of, and, as I have written before, sometimes you have to allow yourself to make a bad painting in the process of coming up with something good .  Being too attached to the results can actually hinder you.

I started out the day today wiping out a few hours of work.  But I am trying to look at it as a good day because I tried to paint something that scared me.  I tried painting something that was out of my comfort zone.  And I learned something from it.  And one of these days, I am going to master the things that I failed at today. 

It is important to me to try and tackle new subjects and new ideas. Failure can be and indication of growth. It isn't the easiest thng to face, but it is better than making "safe" paintings. There is nothing worse than being stagnant with your work. 

So its back to the easel for me. A new day and the freedom to fail if that's what it takes.

Try again. Fail again. Fail better. --Samuel Beckett

P.S. I tried to tackle the painting posted here about 8 months ago and failed.  I tried it again this week and I feel pretty good about this attempt!

A Few Thoughts on Criticism

Reflection-Collected Gold oil 20 x 16



 I have been thinking about the pros and cons of criticism lately.  I think it is really easy to dismiss another person's work with off-hand criticism.  It is hard not to do it sometimes. We all have our own views of what makes a piece of art legitimate. I do think that criticism should be CONSTRUCTIVE and is useful when it is delivered constructively.

I have a few stories of my own, largely from art school critiques, where the criticism was aimed at the person, not the work. And I think that it even easier to criticize some one's work when you don't know them. I would like to believe (and I know this is not always true and may be viewed as idealistic) that everyone who picks up a paint brush is doing the best they can at that particular moment in time. It takes a tremendous amount of courage to hang one's imperfect paintings on the wall for the world to see. And perfection is REALLY hard to achieve. The best we can do is take one step at a time towards improving our work and work diligently.

I read this on illustrator Dan Santat's blog recently: "In a world where the arts seems to always be the first thing that gets cut or closed down due to financial strain I think it's more important than ever that there are people out there trying to create some form of art whether it may seem good or bad."

Ditto.

Second Nature

In the Wild oil 12 x 9

One thing that I love about repetition is that things that used to take a lot of effort to get right become second nature.  I remember watching a teacher of mine draw.  His lines were fluid and the proportions seemed effortless. The practice showed up on the page. And it really wasn't as magical as he made it seem.  It was that he had drawn so much over a lifetime that he was fluent at it.  I wished for that ability at the time.

I notice these days that the drawing part of painting is now second nature to me because I have the practice.  I don't have to think about the rules of perspective as much.  I don't have to hesitate to capture the curve of a field or the character of a tree. I don't always get it right the first time, but years and years of doing the same thing over and over make the challenge easier. Like practicing a language or a yoga pose. The body has memory. And I like that I'm in a place where parts of the process are intuitive.  Now there are new things to practice (the list is long)! But I know that someday the new challenges will also become second nature.

The piece above will be auctioned off July 9th to benefit the Continental Divide Land Trust at their Wildflowers and Art Celebration.  For more information visit http://www.cdlt.org/.

The Making of Magic



Tracks by the River oil 16 x 12



 Working at art was different--I could do it, then I couldn't do it.  This cycle repeated itself again and again.  Sometimes I spent as much time trying to work as I did working.  I talked to friends--"maybe you're not inspired now," they often said. "Screw being inspired, I don't want to be inspired, I just want to be able to work." So in the making of magic, there is no magic in doing it.--William Accorsi

In painting, there are days that everything flows easily. Those are few and far between, but when they happen, I am extremely grateful.   More often, every brushstroke is hard work and struggle and a whole lot of concentration and I really have to earn a painting for the day.  Sometimes I will wipe out or sand down a whole day's work.

People often ask me how long it takes to make a painting.  There is no answer for that.  Some flow easily and some take days or weeks. I make many more paintings than I actually show.

Picasso said each painting had taken his whole life. The process really isn't magic.  It is a lifetime of hard earned skill and hours in the studio.  I had a beginning student once, who after the first day in class announced, "Now I know why paintings are so expensive!" It is certainly a lot more work than one might think.

The public enjoys the magic part.  The artist knows that if we can make the process seem like magic, then we have really done our job.

The painting I posted above was on of those magic moments where everything just works.

Staying Humble

Snow Remnants oil 14 x 18



Most of my students are quick to point out what is wrong with their paintings during group critiques.  Often they overlook what is good about their painting to point out the bad.  I tell them to celebrate the parts of their paintings that work, but I am quick to say that I would worry more about them if they thought their paintings were perfect. It would mean that they see no room for improvement and there is always room to improve. The best painters are constantly pushing to be better. Sometimes that means making a "bad" painting, not a "perfect" one.

Good paintings take years of dedication and skill. I am humbled by what I do every time I sit down to paint. My hope is that twenty or thirty years from now, I am still striving to make a better painting than the last one.

I think it is important to separate yourself from your ego, to see your mistakes, to celebrate the small victories, to accept praise when it is given, to be open to criticism and to grow and push beyond what you could do yesterday.