Getting Around Perfection

"Have no fear of perfection - you'll never reach it." ---Salvador Dali

We don't have a lot of choice in the way we think. Not really. Life is a series of experiences, the vast majority of which we have no control over. Life just rolls right along without stopping to acknowledge us. The times we do have a say in what happens in life are few and far between, and for most of us that doesn't even get started until after we leave home for the first time---for some of us it takes longer still, longer to understand who we've become. But well before that time, our brains have already been formed. Strong connections have already been established in our brains, making us timid or brave, sociable or introverted, and so on. Some people are too needy. Some people are too greedy. And worse: some people get it in their heads that perfection is what it's all about. Perfection. That sweet idyllic metaphor, humming with the unseen rhythms of the universe, that one pure note of absolute mindfulness to which the very insects tune their lullabies on crisp moonless nights beneath the stars.

Hogwash! There's no such thing as perfection. Not really. Even if there was, would you really want that? At what cost? Yes, we can achieve sublime moments when everything seems to work out, and we might take a pause in those moments (if we are lucky) to acknowledge the "perfection" we have achieved. But those moments are seldom appreciated, and, sorry, it's not really perfection. This is what I think. I think perfection (or the perfection-obsessed mind) is an obstacle. It is in the way. It halts creativity. It stunts growth. It prevents people from learning and improving. Yes, a perfectly executed work of art is a thing of beauty---I'm not saying that can't or shouldn't be achieved---but the approach must be done in a healthy way. Perfectionism is a mind-trap. It is a mad cycle of desire to succeed, fear of failure, anxiety over the smallest mistakes, and finally, when the perfection hoped for has not quite been achieved, an ultimate letdown.

"For perfectionists, life is an endless report card on accomplishments or looks. It's a fast track to unhappiness, and perfectionism is often accompanied by depression and eating disorders. What makes perfectionism so toxic is that while those in its grip desire success, they are most focused on avoiding failure, so theirs is a negative orientation. And love isn't a refuge; in fact, it feels way too conditional on performance." ---Psychology Today

So how do we get better at getting better without the perfectionism baggage? I answered my own question there: without the baggage. Leave perfection to the insects---let them have it, and all the problems that go with it.

Practical steps? Here's an idea: take some paper or canvas or surface of your choice and some pens/paint/charcoal/etc, and practice shutting off your brain for a little while. Close your eyes and maybe start by drawing or painting a circle---just quickly, without thinking about it. Okay, you can look at it, but then close your eyes again and repeat the circle thing. There, you've done it---two circles. Is it perfect? (if so, you may not be human; if not, congratulations, session complete) What comes next? I don't know---I'm not the boss of you---keep doodling, perhaps. Find some way to be creative without relying so much on your brain. Over time you'll develop new pathways in the brain---or maybe not (I'm not a doctor)---you will find your way out, I'm sure of it. Meanwhile, don't sweat it. You're doing fine. You are perfect just the way you are.

Earthbound

painting process: three cabins

Another painting process video. Three Cabins, 5x7", watercolor, $50.

painting process: cooper

This was a recently commissioned pet portrait of a Boston terrier named Cooper. If you're interested in commissioning a painting of your own, see my pricing page for more info. Enjoy!

Fuel to the Fire

I've been writing some on a new book about art---my take on it anyway---and I thought I'd post a section of it here. It's just a first stab at the topic and will probably change in its final form, if and when the project ever gets finished. Enjoy and please leave a comment if you have anything to add on the topic!

Fuel to the Fire

   When I stand at my easel and paint, I recall a simpler time. A time half-forgotten. When I paint, I remember what it was like to play, what it was like as a child to imagine worlds within worlds and to speak them into existence. To negotiate imaginary battles. To summon heroes. To build castles out of sand and place oneself on the ramparts yelling down to a plastic action figure in a friend’s hand: “Who goes there?!” To hear him reply in an altered voice, “It’s me!” To respond in turn with the inevitable question, “What’s the password?!” (and then the fantasy would be paused as we played twenty questions to resolve the issue)

    It’s not that when I paint I think about the details of my childhood—-I do not—-but it’s the essence of that time: echoes of a mind untethered, a discovering mind, a creative mind. When I paint, I am unburdened and set free of distraction and worry. I am an instrument of intuition. I am pulled out of time. I have come unstuck. The brush moves; it scrapes against the canvas, leaving behind a trail of paint—-all that is true but for one detail: I move the brush. The artist wields the power, makes the decisions, creates worlds within worlds and speaks them into existence. The artist is in charge.

    When I stand at my easel and paint, I often listen to music. I assume this is true of many artists in many different disciplines. Music has a way of pushing away the real world and redirecting the mind to a more creative space. I find that to be true. It’s not magic and it’s not altogether automatic, but it does seem to help. And any type of music will work, I’m sure. I don’t normally listen to country music, but I’m pretty sure if I played country music when I painted it would do the job just fine. I have tried classical music and I have tried music from the eighties as well as “oldies but goodies.” I have listened to entire albums from single bands—-Simon and Garfunkel, The Beatles, Radiohead, Beck—-and I have let the radio play down the top 40 hits while I’ve painted. It all seems to work just fine. However, in the interest of honesty and in full disclosure, I should tell you that I paint most of my paintings to angry music.

    There is something to be said for the raw passion and unbridled energy of punk and post-punk alternative music—-maybe sprinkled with a bit of metal and a bit of grunge and even a bit of post-ironic garage band thrown in the mix. I like it. I can nod my head to it. I can paint to it—-and I often do! Nothing beats a wall of discordant power chords fed through the right distortion pedals and tube amps complete with microphone feedback and lyrics belted out in bold abandon—-you can almost see the sweat spraying off the brow of the lead singer as she bounces to the frantic rhythm unconcerned with reality as she knows it. Nothing beats the isolation this creates as the raw energy is radiated out like some undiscovered thing that kindles the fire of creativity. It washes over me and passes right through me as I stand at my easel to paint. And I use this energy best I can. I channel it onto the canvas—-it becomes a rich landscape; it becomes a delicate flower; it becomes the face of a portrait; it becomes art. Art creating art.

    There is a bit of chaos to the music. There is something dangerous in it. An idea that goes against the grain. No, I do not subscribe to the idea of nihilism—-my paintings might be amoral but I am not—-but there is something primal to the energy that music can project (now I’m sounding all New Age-y). I guess I’ll just leave it there: music injects energy into creativity.

Materials and Equipment of an Artist

Since I've been doing videos lately, I thought I'd switch it up from my painting process to the materials and equipment I use as part of that process. In case you're interested.

Painting Process: Lake St. John, Morning

Another painting from start to finish. 8x10" canvas.

Painting Process: NOLA Streetcar

wessf studio tour

​My studio space is not very large. On pleasant days I try to work out-of-doors, but more often than not I return to this little room of mine. (at least I finally got daylight-balanced fluorescent bulbs)

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​Pictured above is my studio space. By my estimation, it's a seven foot by thirteen foot room with a ceiling I can barely touch with my fingertips if and when I try to do so (though I've never, to my recollection, needed to do so).

I don't care for these dusty blue curtains, though I do enjoy all the sunlight the windows let in---it's a corner room that was once a sun-room, so I have windows all along two of the walls.​ I recently set up my homemade H-frame easel in the middle of the room facing one wall of windows. I keep a little laptop running solely for reference photos on a little stand I made out of a tee-ball stand and a square of plywood with a hole drilled in it---works like a charm. The desk on the left is homemade as well. So is the standing-up computer desk against the far wall next to the door.

My studio space probably looks a bit messy to the untrained eye, but I've seen it at it's worst and what's pictured here is sublime in comparison.​ And yes, paint gets on the carpet from time to time but I don't care about that. The carpet will be replaced one day.

As you can see I keep my paint in a plastic pallet with a blue plastic top---this keeps the acrylic paint from drying out when not in use---and I use a spray bottle to keep the paint wet during extended painting sessions. I use four brushes, generally. A large ​utility brush for covering large paintings quickly. A one inch flat brush which ends up doing most of the work. A half inch brush for smaller work. And a liner brush for lines and details and signing the finished painting.

I guess that's about all I can think to say on the subject---paintings in progress or paintings that will be painted over, as well as new canvases, all lean against one wall or another and I move them and resort them as the need arises. Pictured on both monitors is the reference photo for the bulldog I painted not long ago. And the blue mat in front of ​the standing desk is where I spend too much of my average day. More to come.