My last post here was in March. MARCH. And it is now June. Normally, I would find that to be many things, but mostly frustrating, depressing, embarrassing, and basically just dumb. However, I'm doing my best to stay positive and look at it for what it is: an opportunity to start again with a new level of focus, determination, and planning.
(I do apologize for the cheesiness... I've been re-watching Parks and Recreation for the billionth time and overly-positive attitudes of Leslie Knope and Chris Traeger are getting the better of me.)
Regardless of how little anyone has seen of what I've been up to, I have been rather busy. For one, I've done a drawing of some completely adorable puppies, which was a great challenge. A friend of my Aunt's was looking for a gift for her sister, and decided to commission a drawing of her dogs.
(I do apologize for the cheesiness... I've been re-watching Parks and Recreation for the billionth time and overly-positive attitudes of Leslie Knope and Chris Traeger are getting the better of me.)
Regardless of how little anyone has seen of what I've been up to, I have been rather busy. For one, I've done a drawing of some completely adorable puppies, which was a great challenge. A friend of my Aunt's was looking for a gift for her sister, and decided to commission a drawing of her dogs.
My latest project has been a huge painting of the sights and sounds (Sounds? You heard me.) of Chattanooga, Tennessee for a friend of a friend. Here's a photo I took of the top part of it early last week:
At 24" x 48", it's one of the largest paintings I've done on canvas, second only to a painting that consisted of three panels of this size. This portion of the painting is still very much in progress. Even though I've been trying to work each little scene in the painting to a point where it's at least halfway-finished, I'm a firm believer that the last 50% of the work one does on a painting makes about 88% of the difference. There is one rather ridiculous issue that I came up against, however, and I just have to focus on it for this post.
Take another look for me. Notice anything odd? I worked on this for a good six hours or so without noticing, doing even more finagling in the afflicted area before Paul walked by and said to me...
"Should the lamps be going the other way...?"
It took me a moment to realize what he was talking about. Surely enough, though, as I looked again at the street lamps across the bridge, I noticed that they are hanging out over the edge of the bridge, rather than over the road as every self-respecting street lamp would do.
What's hilarious to me is that I had them like this in the numerous composition sketches that I did, as I labored over the relatively precise lines of the lampposts, as I started on the mist hanging over the mountain behind them, and later as I added flags to each pole. Not once did it occur to me that I was painting the most useless streetlights ever placed on this earth.
So, needless to say, it's getting reworked.
This used to be something that would present a huge issue for me. Once I thought I was "done" with a portion of a drawing, I was DONE. If an eye or a bush that had been so neatly drawn out at the beginning of the drawing seemed out of proportion or out of place by the end of it, it seemed like the end of the world if I had to go back and change it. And that was if I was working in PENCIL.
As I've practiced more and more and become increasingly confident in my own abilities, I've learned two important things:
1) Try, to the greatest extent possible, to work on the whole thing at once, so that mistakes like that can be caught and fixed before they're finalized.
2) Don't be afraid to erase, paint over, try again, and change everything. Though I'm still light years away from being as skilled as I aspire to someday be, I just have to be confident that if I can paint a lamp post once, I can paint it again, and it'll be no big deal at all.
Sadly enough, this has been a relatively recent "Ah-ha!" moment for me, which is awful, because the fear of making a mistake and having to redo something can be petrifying. Looking back, I can't help but wonder how many pieces of art I've done would be infinitely better if I just hadn't been so afraid of changing things or re-doing them as necessary. And further, every time I have to re-do something, I get better. It's more practice. It's learning WHY the first pass was wrong so that I can get it right the second time. It's looking at it a new way. Even if it's just an issue where I have to re-do it because of an inconveniently placed drip of ink or paint, it's practice making that shape with those colors in that light one more time. It's only a wasted opportunity if I let it be.
And, as you might expect, I'm going to suggest a way that this parallels everyday life as well. (You can't say you didn't see that coming.)
I've been just as afraid of what might happen if I have to admit that a choice I made at one point needs some rethinking after the rest of life has its say in the matter. For example, I started out my college career studying art. Then, I shifted away from that for fear of needing a more "normal" job to actually be able to pay for things. I got a degree in Hospitality Management with the intent of doing event planning, but after graduating, I looked at the big picture and realized that the choice I had made really didn't fit in with anything else. This lamp post wasn't pointing anywhere NEAR the road. Now, that isn't to say that I won't have gained anything from my degree; I learned loads about marketing, business, customer service, finance, and so many other topics that I've been trying to use to help my art making to become something I can share. And now I'm in the process of re-drawing that part. I have a plan to go back to school for something that I couldn't have planned on the first time: Art Education. I considered it when I was going through everything the first time, and actually decided against it. However, after having some time to actually grow up a little, try out a few different paths outside of school, and learn what I truly wanted out of life, I was able to look again at my options and decide on this, which I truly feel will make me infinitely happier than I would have been if I just left myself stuck with my first pass at making such a big decision.
That isn't to say that you should doubt every decision you make in life or assume that you made the wrong decision every time something gets difficult or mildly unpleasant. But just go back to those two lessons I learned earlier:
1) Try, to the greatest extent possible, to look at the big picture at once, so that mistakes like that can be caught and fixed before they're finalized.
2) Don't be afraid to erase, paint over, try again, and change everything. Decisions have a lot of weight, and changing them can lead you down a path that will be a LOT of work. If that's what will make you happiest, though, you have to be able to recognize that. Use what you've learned so far in life to look at your options and be able to pinpoint the one that is honestly right for you.
Take another look for me. Notice anything odd? I worked on this for a good six hours or so without noticing, doing even more finagling in the afflicted area before Paul walked by and said to me...
"Should the lamps be going the other way...?"
It took me a moment to realize what he was talking about. Surely enough, though, as I looked again at the street lamps across the bridge, I noticed that they are hanging out over the edge of the bridge, rather than over the road as every self-respecting street lamp would do.
What's hilarious to me is that I had them like this in the numerous composition sketches that I did, as I labored over the relatively precise lines of the lampposts, as I started on the mist hanging over the mountain behind them, and later as I added flags to each pole. Not once did it occur to me that I was painting the most useless streetlights ever placed on this earth.
So, needless to say, it's getting reworked.
This used to be something that would present a huge issue for me. Once I thought I was "done" with a portion of a drawing, I was DONE. If an eye or a bush that had been so neatly drawn out at the beginning of the drawing seemed out of proportion or out of place by the end of it, it seemed like the end of the world if I had to go back and change it. And that was if I was working in PENCIL.
As I've practiced more and more and become increasingly confident in my own abilities, I've learned two important things:
1) Try, to the greatest extent possible, to work on the whole thing at once, so that mistakes like that can be caught and fixed before they're finalized.
2) Don't be afraid to erase, paint over, try again, and change everything. Though I'm still light years away from being as skilled as I aspire to someday be, I just have to be confident that if I can paint a lamp post once, I can paint it again, and it'll be no big deal at all.
Sadly enough, this has been a relatively recent "Ah-ha!" moment for me, which is awful, because the fear of making a mistake and having to redo something can be petrifying. Looking back, I can't help but wonder how many pieces of art I've done would be infinitely better if I just hadn't been so afraid of changing things or re-doing them as necessary. And further, every time I have to re-do something, I get better. It's more practice. It's learning WHY the first pass was wrong so that I can get it right the second time. It's looking at it a new way. Even if it's just an issue where I have to re-do it because of an inconveniently placed drip of ink or paint, it's practice making that shape with those colors in that light one more time. It's only a wasted opportunity if I let it be.
And, as you might expect, I'm going to suggest a way that this parallels everyday life as well. (You can't say you didn't see that coming.)
I've been just as afraid of what might happen if I have to admit that a choice I made at one point needs some rethinking after the rest of life has its say in the matter. For example, I started out my college career studying art. Then, I shifted away from that for fear of needing a more "normal" job to actually be able to pay for things. I got a degree in Hospitality Management with the intent of doing event planning, but after graduating, I looked at the big picture and realized that the choice I had made really didn't fit in with anything else. This lamp post wasn't pointing anywhere NEAR the road. Now, that isn't to say that I won't have gained anything from my degree; I learned loads about marketing, business, customer service, finance, and so many other topics that I've been trying to use to help my art making to become something I can share. And now I'm in the process of re-drawing that part. I have a plan to go back to school for something that I couldn't have planned on the first time: Art Education. I considered it when I was going through everything the first time, and actually decided against it. However, after having some time to actually grow up a little, try out a few different paths outside of school, and learn what I truly wanted out of life, I was able to look again at my options and decide on this, which I truly feel will make me infinitely happier than I would have been if I just left myself stuck with my first pass at making such a big decision.
That isn't to say that you should doubt every decision you make in life or assume that you made the wrong decision every time something gets difficult or mildly unpleasant. But just go back to those two lessons I learned earlier:
1) Try, to the greatest extent possible, to look at the big picture at once, so that mistakes like that can be caught and fixed before they're finalized.
2) Don't be afraid to erase, paint over, try again, and change everything. Decisions have a lot of weight, and changing them can lead you down a path that will be a LOT of work. If that's what will make you happiest, though, you have to be able to recognize that. Use what you've learned so far in life to look at your options and be able to pinpoint the one that is honestly right for you.