So last week I had one of those moments.
The kind where a voice in your head says something like the following, repeatedly:
“Your art is shit and you just don’t know how to do it well enough for your own {let alone anyone else’s} standards and should probably stop trying. And also you don’t paint often enough to even call yourself an artist, and oh my god, this is what they mean by ‘those who can’t, teach’. And you shouldn’t even be calling yourself a teacher anyway – or daring to teach – because you’re actually shit at art. You could take a class and try to improve but what’s the point, you’ve either got it or you haven’t. You’ll never get any better than this, and ‘this’ is, and always will be, mediocre.”
Wow. So mean!
This doesn’t actually happen that often; I get twinges but not usually the full blown drama.
The painting is one that I wanted to make as a surprise for my parents, who recently lost their beloved dog Coco quite suddenly. I wanted to make something in her memory, an idea which tied in nicely with the fact that my mum had mentioned previously that she’d like a large painting for the hall. I don’t paint commissions any more but I really wanted to do this for them.
Here’s a little slideshow of the first few stages of the painting. You’ll see it underwent several quite major changes; it was already challenging me, although at this point not much more than usual and I still had the faith.
I felt there was a turning point when I’d simplified it right down, and actually really did love it, even though I knew secretly that something wasn’t right. In a state of denial and in an effort to bring it to completion for myself, I posted it on Instagram and announced it was finished. I so desperately wanted to be done with it, I declared it done. Somewhat tellingly, I didn’t sign it.
I did mention that something felt a little off, and someone pointed out that it might be the fact that the horizon line was smack in the middle of the canvas, which creates an uneasy tension and confuses the eye about where to look.
Moving the horizon line up and loosening up the marks
I knew about this, but hadn’t seen it. So then I was all, ohhhhhh crap, I’m going to have to change it and it’s not even a small tweak. I needed to adjust the entire composition, and I really didn’t want to do that much work. {I know.} And also, I know better than to make that kind of mistake at this point. So, Bad Artist.
It was probably around that point that the Voice of Doom decided to crank things up a notch. It was now evident what was wrong, and it wasn’t a small thing, and part of me had decided it was finished and had mentally moved on, so all this resistance was coming up. Thus providing the perfect crack through which to insinuate itself and set up some loud speakers in my brain.
Loving the looseness but now the bottom has been thrown out of balance because it isn’t. {aargh}
I know I’m going into a lot of detail here for something that isn’t the Actual End of the World, but it might be useful to know how these things go sometimes as someone for whom creativity is a large part of your world. And that if it happens to you, you’re in excellent company. 😉
Anyway, so I then thought, this isn’t going away, and I’d feel totally out of integrity and kind of ashamed to give it to my parents as it is, knowing that it’s not right and that I can do better, even if I don’t want to right now!
I decided nevertheless to strike while the iron was hot {aka before I could talk myself out of it} and went back to the studio to address the situation.
At first I tried to get out of doing anything drastic; I used chalk to sketch in some possibilities, and sat for a while imagining different options.
In the end I couldn’t put it off any longer; I went in and painted over the entire mid section in order to raise the horizon line. Once I got over the fear of Total Ruination, it was quite fun, for a short time. I realised the painting was way tighter than I like my art to be, and this was a good opportunity to loosen it up.
Working and reworking that damn horizon line
And yet. I have added layer upon layer, tweaked the values and negative spaces, bounced between trying to make it ‘realistic’ {which is a reflex, not what I actually want to do} and trying to let it be more expressive {but then it doesn’t seem to work}, and it’s still not right. And I don’t feel good about it at all. I feel like the struggle shows, and I don’t want that permeating the space.
So what are my options now? Keep working at it? Find a reference image and either drastically rework it or start again? Leave it for a while? All possibilities. It’s certainly not wise to paint when I’m feeling cross about it. 🙂
So this is where it stands now.
I can’t really see it any more; I also kind of hate it, just because of how I feel right now and what it represents to me. {You can bet if someone else had done it I’d be loving it.} Those things are not lasting, so a part of me remains undisturbed and happy to let it lie for a bit. It may even be complete, but I’m too close to know that right now. And this isn’t about wanting advice or reassurance. I know this is how it goes sometimes.
And it’s not about not knowing what to do. I don’t have that excuse any more; not least because I’ve experienced, written and talked about creative stuckness a million times! In fact I’m going back to this post and this one, because I do know how this goes and I do know how to deal with it, I clearly just need some reminding.
So that’s a bit of a saga! But I think it’s always useful to remember that you don’t get to a point as a creative person where everything always works perfectly the first time. It can be annoying, frustrating and infuriating as much as it can be blissful and flowy and satisfying.
And you improve, and all the creative struggle and thinking you’re shit and should just give up is part of the improving.
I’ll finish by quoting my own self, because why not.:) And I need to hear this today.
“Everything that happens in the studio {or on the dining table} is ok. There will be triumphs and traumas, exactly like in day to day life, and in the end, you can learn to choose {yes, over and over and over} to approach it with curiosity and amusement, and know that every step is a step forward, even when it doesn’t look or feel like it.”
Thank you so much for sharing this story. I loved to sketch and paint when I was a child, but when I learned the art of perfectionism, I gave it all up. I hated that what was on the paper didn’t match what I saw in my head. Now that I am on to how perfectionism has held me back, I have specifically decided to battle it with taking up art once again.
Seeing someone I consider to be a true artist have these struggles reminds me not to be so hard on myself, that I am not alone.
Also, love the slide show. It is amazing to me that splashes of color can take form into these wonderful, and recognizable images.
Oh Jacki, I hear you! And as much as you may consider me a ‘true artist’ {and thank you!}, I honestly don’t think anyone’s exempt! I suspect even Van Gogh and Da Vinci had their off moments!
The trick for me has been at least partly realising what conditions I need to make it more likely that I’ll ‘succeed’ {which to me means enjoying as much of the process as possible and liking the outcome}, one of which is having a reference image. I forgot this time, and have paid for it! It has however highlighted how much my personal conditions do need to be in place and how effective they are. Working out your conditions can take a bit of time but is so so worth it.
And yes, I can’t think why I didn’t do slideshows of my process before! It’s like a slower version of those flip books we used to have when we were kids. 🙂
I had to laugh when I saw this post. A couple of weeks ago, I decided to join in the 100 paintings challenge (not a good word for me to begin with) to improve my painting and try out some new techniques. So I started with watercolours, then chinese watercolour painting, then small acrylics, I just couldn’t decide what to do. The couple of paintings I did seemed so inferior to the ones that were being posted. So, you guessed it, I went through the very thoughts that you worte about. My work is shit compared to theirs, why am I even bothering to paint, I will never become a good painter, I’ve been struggling with this for 60 years, I’m not meant to be an artist, I think I will sell all my art supplies and stop this constant struggling, etc. etc. etc. People tell me my painting is really good but do I hear that? No, they are just being nice, etc. So, yesterday I went on an art walk with my daughters for Mother’s Day and it was great. Of course, there were different levels of work and I thought, “what is wrong with me?” Some artists are futher along than me and some are putting out work that I wouldn’t even do – but at least they are doing SOMETHING! Of course, all the things I have done this year don’t count because they aren’t really that good and so on.
So thank you for this post today, it’s exactly what I needed to read. You are such an inspiration and so real, I love it.
My eldest daughter and I had a three hour conversation last night. She is a very talented personal trainer but struggles with the imposter syndrome in a different way – she feels like she isn’t practicing what she preaches when she doesn’t eat and exercise perfectly, so we had a really interesting conversation about how each of us can get unblocked and stop being self-destructive.
So, that’s why I had to laugh when I read your blog today. I often find that I don’t like what I do and then when I put it away and look at it a week or two later I think, “thats actually quite good”. I really llike your painting, the colours are beautiful and I like the looseness of it. Your parents will love it.
Leone thank you for your comment – it really made me smile. Your experience with the #100 challenge is more or less why I decided NOT to do it! It’s so funny that reading what you wrote I want to say, don’t sell your supplies! Don’t give up! Even though I know that feeling of ‘oh what’s the point’, evidently. I know people always quote this but I guess that’s because it’s true – we really do teach what we most need to learn. But I guess the flip side of that is impostor syndrome, because in teaching what we need to learn we inevitably come across what we don’t know or feel we’re not good at. It’s a constant rebalancing, and requires endless self kindness, which in itself is no small lesson!
Thanks for this post Tara. I love the mystery and magic in your painting. For me, It is a kind of peaceful landscape, the one where Coco is now exploring.
Since the beginning of the year I feel very bad as far my art is concerned. Doubts and struggles came with my first exhibits and with peoplés opinions, all very contradictory….I feel so bad that I do not paint anymore (4 canvases since the beg of the year and each of them is a shit to me !!!!!). As I need to stay créative, my sketchbooks are getting more and more full of drawings of all kinds. I don’t know when this will stop. I’ve already expérimented this kind of feelings but it’s the longest period and It makes me feel so sad…
Thank you for the kind words about the painting Sophie; I signed it yesterday and today I’m still thinking about making changes! It is the neverending painting!
I’m sorry to hear that the painting has been such a struggle for you lately; there are times when it does just feel like a big battle I know. Don’t discount the sketchbook work you’ve been doing – aside from the fact that I’ve been watching it develop and enjoying seeing how you can make the everyday both meaningful and beautiful, you never know what it might lead to. It may be that the sketchbook work is building something, or that you’re in a time of transition in your painting and going through the in between state. In my experience that’s often uncomfortable, but it does pass! And more quickly when we allow it to be so. You do have a gift for painting and it will return to you, I just know it.
Its funny that you mention suspecting Van Gogh had off moments. He most definitely did. I read the book “Vincent, Himself”, last year. The book includes his letters, mostly to family and friends. I had compiled these on-topic excerpts into a song lyric (still not finished with the music). I hope it helps:
“If one wants to be acting,
one must not be afraid of failures,
of making mistakes,
doing good by no harm.
That’s a lie,
it leads to stagnation and mediocrity.
If you hear a voice within saying “You are not a painter”,
then by all means paint,
boy, and that voice will be silenced,
but only by working.
Just dash something down,
when you see a blank canvas staring you in the face
with a certain imbecility.
It says to the painter,
you can’t do anything,
it hypnotizes some painters
so that they themselves become idiots.
The blank canvas is afraid of the really passionate painter,
who is daring,
and who has once and for all broken the spell of “you cannot”
I must paint
I have an unlimited faith in art
and the conviction that I shall succeed
My aim in life is to make pictures and drawings
as many as I can
then at the end of my life
look back with love and tender regret thinking
“Oh the pictures I might have made”
Listen to what I tell you
about the thorny little path of painting
which at first leads to all sorts of humiliation
The artists life
and what an artist is
It is all very curious,
How deep it is,
how infinitely deep”
How cool to turn them into a song! Love how you’ve crossed the boundaries between art and music there Andy. I watched a documentary on him and he certainly had a lot of torment mentally.
Tara you are such a joy to me with your paintings and your expressions of your sometimes struggles with your art.
You are truly a wonderful artist and teacher!
I have taken a few of your classes and they have been a great inspiration to me .
I constantly struggle with my painting skills and rarely post anything on the Facebook because I have a no confidence in what I paint .
After taking the first class with you and then the second I decided that I would paint a little sign so I can see it where I paint – it has the letters on it FMEO (For My Eyes Only), to take the pressure off of my feeling that I need to be recognized in some small way by family and friends..
I want to not care what anyone thinks anymore and just paint for the joy of it. Thank you for helping me to have some fun again.
Thank you for such kind words Carole! Love that you’re taking steps towards allowing yourself your artistic self expression. 🙂