In the spirit of fearlessness, I took a chance and added paint. After months of work. A risk. My first reaction?
I hated it.
It was so different from what I saw slowly progressing. It jarred me. My heart sank. I wished for a real-life UNDO button. I felt like I ruined what was turning into a favorite piece in this series. All that time spent working on this, only to destroy it in seconds.
I put it aside for a few weeks. And then I opened the door again.
It's not so bad. In fact, I'm starting to love it. Paint is so... juicy. I can see where it's going again. The chance I took revealed a new, better direction.
Saturday I plan on getting back to this. More paint. More risks. More love/hate/love.
It's like life, isn't it?
I'm used to trying to create an exact likeness of my subject. Always with an end goal, an expectation in mind. Kind of stifles the creative process, doesn't it?
Enter Blane, a good friend of mine and entrepreneur. He was in a rut. He needed an outlet for a recent burst of creative energy. But he never really explored art other than as a spectator. I agreed to help him learn how to be a creator. We took these huge sheets of watercolor paper that I had. For subject matter, I took the skull of a buck and placed it on the kitchen table. I told him to draw, but he couldn't look down or care about the end result. I just wanted him to make a mark on that pristine white sheet without any fear.
I set the timer to ten minutes and joined him in the exercise. Why not. I needed to loosen up, too. We each sipped a little bourbon, and picked at a plate of sardines and crackers. I forget what kind of music was playing. Probably funk, or some Norwegian folk singer. It might have been Moddi.
Rebokk was still around. Old skinny cat checking us out. And it was February. Cold and the damp of the Jersey shore made the cold stick to your bones. For ten minutes, we were going to draw, and we weren't allowed to look and we weren't allowed to care. Those were the rules.
What we ended up with was a mess, each mess uniquely our own. While Blane started applying swashes of deep crimson (and some glitter) to his, I studied mine for a bit, It was chaos. Lines everywhere. Distorted. Wandering. Searching. But there was also some sense to it. The more I looked, the more I saw where I had been, when my eyes were traveling across the skull and transcribed the path to paper. I took some paint. Mixed a light earth tone. A bone color. And applied it to an area of several shapes, keeping some edges raw but finding a boundary in one of the lines and keeping that defined.
What happened there was the start of this theme. I thrilled at the exploded chaos of the initial drawing combined with the slower, more methodical process of developing a likeness by pulling out selected shapes and lines. It's a process that exhilarates and scares me at the same time. I like that. There's risk. There's the unexpected. I may choose the wrong shape or line. I have to think. But every time it teaches me something. It teaches me to let go.