Originally written sept 7th 2010
Yesterday I picked up a paintbrush for the first time in about a year and a half. Well, that was the last step after building my easel, pulling unfinished canvases off my walls, organizing some paint colors and finding out how many bottles of acrylic medium have dried up since they were last used.
And then it got me to thinking about all the times I've started a painting and never finished it. Well, never finished it to satisfaction, as a piece is never really "complete." It takes days, sometimes weeks or months to complete a painting. Some of the greatest have taken years and even more will never be finished before the artist passes on.
There are times when the work may look sloppy to an untrained eye and someone thinks "Why that color! That looks terrible - you just ruined it!" And for this reason, I prefer to paint in solitude. I don't feel that explaining the process is necessary as the viewer will develop their own thoughts toward the work without me trying to color their view with my intention (pun intended). You learn to let it be and not convince anyone of anything. I always thought Bob Ross to be extremely brave for letting his craft be televised step by sloppy step until revealed in goups of black and green smudges blossom "happy little trees." It's fun thinking about how he made believers out of those who said he was just making a big mess.
But a master keeps working it and sometimes it's incredibly annoying. Brush stroke after brush stroke - layer upon layer all while constantly cleaning the brush, replacing the brush, refilling paint, mixing that perfect color again and layering more. If you make a mistake it's ok because it can be worked into everything else you're doing. And sometimes that mistake makes your work better. You learn what works and what doesn't and you learn how to best roll with what you're doing and let your mind go. Along the way your colors come alive and you envision the perfect spot to hang this piece. You now see life and inside have ignited your own spark knowing that you've created something that no one else on this earth will ever create.
And just like a canvas coming alive with a composition that universally makes sense, building your body takes time and persistence with each stroke adding to the overall picture. Every seemingly insignificant stroke is essential to completion - to progress. Everyday choices regarding nutrition and training seem insignificant today but when worked consistently will lead you closer to the body - or life - of your dreams.
Sometimes we get thrown off balance and neglect the canvas but if we're ever expected to finish our art and perfect our craft, one must stay focused. Even when those around you don't understand - and trust me, they'll try to yet just won't understand - and many will tell you "you're ruining the 'canvas'" or simply tell you that you're a terrible artist. But keep your vision of the finished product near and dear and be silent of your intention. It's your art. Treat your canvas well. Use the best brushes, the finest paints and be daring and original with your technique. Be proud of what you can make of this blank canvas you've been blessed with.
Yesterday I picked up a paintbrush for the first time in about a year and a half. Well, that was the last step after building my easel, pulling unfinished canvases off my walls, organizing some paint colors and finding out how many bottles of acrylic medium have dried up since they were last used.
And then it got me to thinking about all the times I've started a painting and never finished it. Well, never finished it to satisfaction, as a piece is never really "complete." It takes days, sometimes weeks or months to complete a painting. Some of the greatest have taken years and even more will never be finished before the artist passes on.
There are times when the work may look sloppy to an untrained eye and someone thinks "Why that color! That looks terrible - you just ruined it!" And for this reason, I prefer to paint in solitude. I don't feel that explaining the process is necessary as the viewer will develop their own thoughts toward the work without me trying to color their view with my intention (pun intended). You learn to let it be and not convince anyone of anything. I always thought Bob Ross to be extremely brave for letting his craft be televised step by sloppy step until revealed in goups of black and green smudges blossom "happy little trees." It's fun thinking about how he made believers out of those who said he was just making a big mess.
But a master keeps working it and sometimes it's incredibly annoying. Brush stroke after brush stroke - layer upon layer all while constantly cleaning the brush, replacing the brush, refilling paint, mixing that perfect color again and layering more. If you make a mistake it's ok because it can be worked into everything else you're doing. And sometimes that mistake makes your work better. You learn what works and what doesn't and you learn how to best roll with what you're doing and let your mind go. Along the way your colors come alive and you envision the perfect spot to hang this piece. You now see life and inside have ignited your own spark knowing that you've created something that no one else on this earth will ever create.
And just like a canvas coming alive with a composition that universally makes sense, building your body takes time and persistence with each stroke adding to the overall picture. Every seemingly insignificant stroke is essential to completion - to progress. Everyday choices regarding nutrition and training seem insignificant today but when worked consistently will lead you closer to the body - or life - of your dreams.
Sometimes we get thrown off balance and neglect the canvas but if we're ever expected to finish our art and perfect our craft, one must stay focused. Even when those around you don't understand - and trust me, they'll try to yet just won't understand - and many will tell you "you're ruining the 'canvas'" or simply tell you that you're a terrible artist. But keep your vision of the finished product near and dear and be silent of your intention. It's your art. Treat your canvas well. Use the best brushes, the finest paints and be daring and original with your technique. Be proud of what you can make of this blank canvas you've been blessed with.