Since March of last year (PE – Pandemic Era)I have been working on a series of mixed media paintings I have called “Light” since we were then, and still are, in dire need of that. And also because those paintings showed a variation in their colors depending on where they were hung and how the light affected them. I have since created three large “Light” paintings and two smaller ones.
For the past week I have been working on the third smaller one (28×24) (sixth in the series). These paintings are labor-intensive and I use mostly, but not only, acrylics and joint compound. All of them require doing, re-doing, undoing and tweaking, but that is the normal creative sequence.
The sixth “Light” painting has decided to put the breaks on the process; it is not ready to be birthed and it has shamelessly let me know. I have changed large areas a few times, added color, covered it up, added compound, and then color and then removed the compound. I have changed the design as well, not just the materials. Nothing doing.
I feel it is time to start listening.
Listening to a painting is the subtlest of all activities in the creation of a work of art. The line separating what I intend to do, my vision and idea – and what the painting wants and needs, is subtle, razor-thin. The artist walks the razor’s edge and lucky is she who listens early on or knows the difference between her vision and the painting’s voice sooner rather than later.
When this used to happen to me years back I would deride myself: “I am no good, I don’t know what I’m doing, “I’m not even an artist”, etc. Depression would set in, which has shown to never help in the creation process. I would sulk for a few days, keep trying to “do it right” elsewhere and look askance at the devious painting that sat on the floor defying every fiber in me.
Fast forward a few years, a few workshops and other artists’ blogs. Despite being basically a product-oriented artist, I’ve had to throw in the towel and welcome the dreaded Process into my studio. In fact, it had always been there but had never been given the right to be seen or speak. “Process” has been the big four-letter word in my dictionary. “Give in to process”. “Understand process”. “Process is more important than the final result”. “Process is the journey and what’s more important than that?”. I would always roll up my eyes.
So now there is another presence at my studio. It is accepted, welcome, maybe even liked a little bit. And when a painting refuses to come to this world after days and days of toil and dedication, I no longer feel like a fraud. I humbly make the necessary changes even if it means discarding the whole thing and starting completely anew. I mumble to myself, “that’s the process, it’s natural, it’s normal. Do it again. Learn from what worked and from what did not. ”
I must confess that despite fighting this “intruder” for decades, life as an artist is easier and more enjoyable with its company than without it. It takes being more mindful, more alert, certainly more humble. It makes me feel I am part of a collective of artists who have been living with this “creature” for longer than I have. I learned that it is better to quickly jump on the trolley than to miss it altogether.
As an artist, do you welcome process? What is your relationship with it? Are you more product-oriented or process-oriented? Please leave your comment below.