Trying Too Hard

a sure path to failure

I had a dream a couple weeks ago with such vivid and personally significant imagery that I woke up knowing I had to paint it. I took a few photos, did a couple sketches, transferred them to two sheets of beautiful heavy watercolor paper and got to work on the smaller one, with the intention of making a larger piece later on, maybe in a different color palette or style.

I painted for three days, probably putting about twenty hours into it. I worked hard. I tried so hard.

Everything I did turned to crap.

It felt stiff, forced, and lifeless. And yet, I persisted. I reworked and overworked that painting until there was no resurrecting it, and I did something I very rarely do: I tore it up and stuffed it in the trash.

Then my scarcity mindset reared her ugly head and shrieked at me because I had just thrown away probably $25 of materials and that is a waste, dammit! So I fished the pieces from the bin to use as collage fodder, because, “waste not, want not”, and also, everything is art supplies. The scraps definitely have some possibilities.

Why?

Why, when I had such a clear vision and intention and obviously know how to apply paint to a surface, why couldn’t I recreate on paper this stirring image in my mind?

I tried so hard. I tried too hard.

I was so focused on the result that I lost the love of the process. I was so intent on recreating that ideal image that I did not leave space for creativity, serendipity, or chance to enter the room.

Folks, the way I make paintings isn’t like following a cooking recipe. Which I also never do faithfully, if truth be told. If I were a hyper-realistic painter, a results oriented approach would be critical. The goal would be for the finished painting to look exactly like a reference photo. But, kids, that’s not how I roll. Not knowing exactly what will appear in front of me is an integral part of my process. I ignored that and paid the price in frustration and disappointment.

Fast forward to this week, when I began a 12 week-long course with artist Louise Fletcher called Find Your Joy. From what I understand, it’s not so much about the mechanics of painting or the elements of art (although that is part of it), but, rather, an exploration intended to help artists find their own unique voice.

I hope I’m not giving too much away when I tell you that the first module is entitled “Stop Trying”. I kid you not. Talk about timing. The universe has quite a sense of humor.

So, did I really waste $25 of art supplies and 3 days of my life on a wrecked painting? No: I had to live this one in order to internalize the lesson, so it was well worth the time and money. Damn universe, putting wisdom in front of me, then making me work for it!

This is me, not trying, with ghastly colors.

So this week I’m going to work (but not try too hard,) at not trying. Which feels oxymoronic to me, but I’m going with it. Wish me luck.