Almost nine out of ten of the people I tell that I studied Fine Arts reply along the line of : "Oh, how nice..., I would love to paint, but I can't. How relaxed it would be". Nice?..., relaxed? Little do they know. Non-creatives do not realize the painful path you have to walk to deliver. The higher the mountain, the deeper the valley. In order to get on top, you first have to walk the valley. The few times that you can start at base camp are rare.
But why then harass yourself with internal conflict? Why frustrate yourself with a process of translating a beautiful mind to a dirty canvas? While fantasy seems limitless, skills of crafts are so obviously limited. How often I threw away my pencils, kicked the paint around and promised myself never to get in touch with my left brain again, to get up first thing next morning to start all over again.
I can tell you why. Because nothing matches the sheer happiness and fulfillment of finishing a painting which meets the expectations. My own expectations.
The process described above was likewise with the attached painting: Nada No Pasa Aqui. I scraped it off several times, getting more and more frustrated every time. Now that it is finished, I forget about all the pain it caused. Looking at it now only triggers a yearning and longing to start on a new piece, which I will in due time...
To cut a long story short I would like to end with a lyric of Danko Jones: "If you want to learn how to play the blues, get yourself a woman".
Comments
I sometimes find myself in the middle of a struggle, while the floor and table are covered with paint, brushes and broken pencils.
I often hear myself yelling at the canvas: "damn you", but it always draws me back, I simply have to move on.
And when I decide to take a break for a few days, the thoughts about creating haunt me. Images and insights wake me up in the middle of the night and when I tell the brain and heart to shut up, they seem to get louder.
It is a painfull addiction. But when a battle is won and I look at the creation, it is a momentum for my memories, my being, my life and my window to my little world.
Which reminds me....I have to go...the canvas is screaming for attention.....let the game begin!
I sometimes find myself in the middle of a struggle, while the floor and table are covered with paint, brushes and broken pencils.
I often hear myself yelling at the canvas: "damn you", but it always draws me back, I simply have to move on.
And when I decide to take a break for a few days, the thoughts about creating haunt me. Images and insights wake me up in the middle of the night and when I tell the brain and heart to shut up, they seem to get louder.
It is a painfull addiction. But when a battle is won and I look at the creation, it is a momentum for my memories, my being, my life and my window to my little world.
Which reminds me....I have to go...the canvas is screaming for attention.....let the game begin!