an early stage of what we’ll call
Untitled — Work in Progress
I am a painter. I paint because I can’t not paint. I paint as an exploration and interpretation of the way I experience the world. I paint because beauty matters. I paint because I’m trying and trying to create experiences that transport people momentarily to a world that is far more mystical than the one they inhabit daily. Whatever the subject matter—a two-minute sketch or a giant botanical inspired by my children’s backyard perfumes and potions—I’m seeking that ethereal quality that exists just outside the grasp of reality. I paint in an attempt to lift the veil on the appearance of things and reveal a kind of magical order within.
This is the heart of my craft. These are the ideals I strive for every time I pick up a brush. The more connected I am to my craft, the more successful I am at creating magic.
The current climate for artists is making this connection to craft increasingly difficult. The infinite possibilities for self-promotion in 2023 are an absolute miracle compared to the days of physical portfolios and the gatekeepers of the fine-art world blocking your entrance at every turn. However, I don’t think we are hardwired to thrive under the pressure of infinite possibilities either.
In the tumult of Instagram, newsletters, TikTok, YouTube, podcasts, and process videos, I see too many artists racing in infinite directions, and they are losing. Losing themselves. Losing the heart of their practice. Losing their craft. I know because I’ve been there too. With recipes for viral fame and instant sales being peddled like snake oil, who hasn’t fallen prey to the intoxicating possibilities?
As in any good cautionary tale, glittering promises come with fatal risks. In this case, we risk losing an entire generation of artists to social media. We are losing touch with our craft. In our frenzy to film every brush stroke, sell every painting (instantly), and feed the algorithm daily, we leave no room for risk-taking. No room for failure, curiosity, and play. We are not making our truest work. Fortunately, we are intelligent, intentional creatures and we have the capacity to shape our own creative practice.
I have spent this past year in search of clarity. I long to feel connected to my truest self and to make my truest work. I have been making difficult decisions to cut out business ideas, earning potential, and goals that felt critical in an effort to honor my slow nature and give my soul room to breathe. This means more time in nature with the kids. More time laying down, breathing, and thinking. More time painting and less time on the computer. And a lot of self-talk to work through the fear and scarcity that comes up while making these choices.
My studio time has become a sacred space where I can explore ideas, release pressure, and commune with creation. I am learning to protect this space. When I step through that door I physically put away the shiny distractions, and mentally push away the intoxicating possibilities. I just paint. Because the world is mystical and beauty matters. Because I have magic to make. I paint because I can’t not paint. 🎨