Blog

I’d like share why I spend much of my time painting. It’s fun to dig for understanding, hoping to find treasure in what we do.  While I’m exploring my own little plot of time, maybe you will find insight into your’s. 

In my somewhat workaholic growing-up home, art was encouraged, but wisely the responsibility of making a living came first. Art was a hobby, something you can do someday when there’s time. Most of us experience something similar with our life-passions. As a result, I painted subconsciously for the opinion of others, hoping to be taken seriously as an Artist in order to justify the hours I put into painting. 

But there’s always been a caveat to this thinking because I believe I was created to create. And through my own pursuit of self-understanding, I’m convinced ALL of us are intended to contribute to and expand the world through our creative growth. My growth takes place through painting. 

I marvel at the process of painting. 

It’s so much more than what it looks like when someone is working at an easel:

An artist sees something that sparks an idea,

picks up a pencil, pen, paintbrush, or other tool,

uses it to apply paint to a canvas or board or paper 

and

after some hours of pushing color around,

a painting comes into being. 

The perception is that artists are endowed with a unique gift that makes the process of painting effortless and ethereal. 

The truth is painting is a disciplined practice.

It becomes a habit 

which becomes a hunger, 

then becomes a “must”. 

Painting begins to consume me with its need to be resolved.

It’s a jigsaw puzzle with separate pieces strewn mysteriously on the table. It beckons me to sit down and find what is needed to fit the whole — to find the next piece of color or line or shape, which moves me an inch closer to the finish; a slow and steady race against no one, not even myself.  

While I am painting, I become lost. My mind is focused on what I am doing and yet at the same time, it wanders through the music I’ve chosen, the podcast I’m following, or around empty silence, which is fertile soil for creativity. I loose track of time until I realize I have been standing or sitting in front of my easel for a couple of hours without a break. Suddenly I need to take a deep breath and look around, becoming once again aware of my surroundings. It’s kind of like snapping out of a daydream.

Painting is a mind-travel experience, enjoyable despite, or perhaps because of the effort it takes. The experience is similar when I loose track of time running several miles. It happens on a cross-country road trip, passing mile thirty on my bike or slowly but surely pulling weeds from damp spring soil. Painting, like these experiences, is different from entertainment focused on someone else’s creative agenda. Their ideas can be inspiring but my own creative responses expand my world. Drinking from the well of my creativity enlarges my mental, emotional, and spiritual territory.  It’s scary to think of all the hours spent submerged in entertainment rather than creativity.  How small our world seems when compared to the vast expanse available on the wings of soaring imagination! 

Painting speaks without words, using the poetry of art to narrate why a theme grabs my heart. I’ve taken many classes, lessons and workshops to help me understand the steps and tools available to give my imagination flight. It takes learning — and unlearning —  to realize SIMPLE as beautiful and perhaps even more artistic than impressively, realistically rendered works of art.

Despite my enjoyment of painting, I have to push through moments of discouragement and defeat in nearly every piece before breathing “it is finished”. It’s a little like hiking to the top of a mountain, suddenly  realizing I’m on the top. It’s time to put my brush down. One of the biggest mistakes an artist makes is going beyond this intuitive sense of completion. The result is often the contrived stiffness of an overworked painting.

Painting is about noticing, responding, and knowing when to stop. Learning its nuances has sharpened my awareness of life happening around me and my feelings about what I see. Not every painting is “great”; that’s not the goal. The reward is in the practice. And every once in a while, something great emerges.

It’s a joyful journey I don’t want to miss!