I will happily sell my work online to anyone who wants to buy, and I will happily ship my paintings off to galleries if they want to sell my work. I’ll even book another Art Fair next year. But I’m not going to do mental gymnastics trying to come up with new venues and ways of getting my work on other people’s walls in front of other people’s eyes. I don’t really care enough.
On reflection, this process of decision making and being stuck and stalled in indecision has given me renewed insight. I see this in many artists who ask my advice about their paintings. They are stuck, they have a hunch on what they should do, but they need affirmation that this is the right course of action and they lack the courage to act in case they ruin the work.
Recently a student in my stARTs course reached out to me for some feedback regarding her work. She wanted to know if it was ‘good’. BIG QUESTION. I remember so clearly being at the stage she is at now. Working tirelessly on improving my work and finding my ‘style’. I liked parts of it but was dissatisfied with so much of it and was struggling to find a process that gave me the results that I loved.
Last night I had an epiphany. I have been mulling over what paintings to enter into a couple of upcoming award shows. This can be a valuable way of gaining credibility and recognition if you become a finalist and have your work exhibited in the show, and also if you should be lucky enough to win an award.
Watching them grapple with new techniques and ways of working has made me reflect on learning as a journey. I have gone on many learning journeys over the years and they have been as varied as the learnings that took place within them. When I was in my 40’s I decided I would learn to play tennis. Most people just pick up a tennis racquet sometime in their childhood or adolescence and start playing. I remember picking up the racquet but the playing part just naturally didn’t follow.
There was a time when starting a painting was both exciting and frightening. I would sit gazing into space wondering what the painting would look like, what did I want to paint, would others like it….?? Ultimately all these questions would lead me to face the biggest question of all WAS I GOOD ENOUGH? Before I had even squeezed some paint onto the palette I was facing a battle. I wouldn’t back down, but it was definitely a fight. Sometimes my enemy would allow me some small gains, but always there was the lingering doubt that someone would discover that I really wasn’t good enough. I wore The Imposter Syndrome like a heavy weighted hat on my head.
IN the past this question was my starting point. And also my finishing. I had no idea what sort of art I wanted to do. I had some sort of notion that I should be expressing something earth shattering or at least an original take on some serious notion that most probably has been tackled before. It stifled me from the get go. What did I have to say that hadn’t been said before and probably better. I had no idea, but I made art anyway. The problem was I was a harsh critic, and I saw right through my flimsy endeavours. There were some paintings I liked, and some that others liked and bought, but all the time I knew that really I was faking it. I had no idea what to produce next, and no driving urge to unleash my soul on the canvas like the ‘real’ artists.
Creative people are risk takers. Right? Wrong!! I have NEVER been a risk taker. I learnt to swim with my big toe bouncing along the bottom of the pool. During athletic sports I always pushed the hurdles over rather than bang my shins against them when attempting to leap over. My attempt at being a cool mum and going on the Scoobydoo ride at Movieworld literally ended in tears. I don’t ride horses. I don’t go near cows. I give swans and geese a wide birth. A critical and full analysis of every possible risk will usually steer me clear of activities involving speed, altitude, extreme temperatures, wildlife, some domestic life and getting my hair wet.
