Resistance

I’ve had two art related goals over the past few years, and I’ve only made scant headway on either of them. I’m beginning to think that the reason why I’ve made so little progress on both is related. The first goal was to get more comfortable painting by just doing more of it. The second goal was to get better at making more finished pieces instead of just sketches.

In addressing the first goal, I’ve cleared out a space specifically for painting. I have an easel and a side table for paints and tools. I got some water miscible oils to play with and did a few pieces to try them out. I also got my watercolors back out to start using them. I went out on a plein air painting outing with a friend and subsequently purchased a better travel set of paints which I’m enjoying. I’ve even started to get a feel for the level of patience I need to work in watercolor. But i’m not painting regularly. I haven’t even touched my acrylics (except to paint some miniature figures) since I set up my painting area. And I keep thinking about what I want to try next with the oils, but I never quite get around to it.

In terms of creating more finished work, or at least more fully rendered drawings, I’ve been making some progress. In addition to the near daily sketching I usually do, I’ve also set aside most Saturday mornings to spend an uninterrupted hour or two just to work on one or two drawings. Aside from that, I’ve noticed that I need to stay aware of the difference between rendering and just getting lost in the details.

This past weekend I spent an hour working on a portrait, but the end result didn’t have anything like a likeness to the reference in spite of all the work I did on it. Today I spent about fifteen minutes drawing again from the same reference, but this time I started with a very angular rough sketch and then took the time to correct the proportions before adding just enough rendering to suggest the form. And now I really understand why that sort of beginning is so common and useful.

So what do these two have in common? In both cases, they represent getting more serious about my art. Up until the last three years, almost all of my progress and improvement has come by deliberately not taking it seriously. Will trying to take it more seriously ruin art for me? Am I good enough to make it worthwhile taking it more seriously? And what does “taking it more seriously” mean? Such silly questions. Part of why I want to paint (and why I also work digitally) is that I want to work with color, but also because, at some level, painting feel more like “real” art. The baggage, it is heavy, but there’s also the fear that if I take it seriously, then I can fail at it. Brains are weird. You can’t fail at art. It’s possible to fail at making money with art, but that’s failing at a business, not failing art. And I already have enough jobs as it is.

When I get discouraged by these sorts of thoughts, I look at all the progress I’ve made in the last thirteen years of slow, self-taught learning. It’s been a lot, and the rate at which I’ve been improving has been accelerating. And I’m still having fun, so maybe I should just keep doing that.