I would guess that my own "post-creation glee" lasts for perhaps Nova Scotia
oil painting a trillionth of a second! Then I am moving onto the next work, one that might not have the flaws of the previous one! One that will cause me to say to myself, "Got it!" But it never comes! It seems to be a never ending battle of 'progress.' This perfection we seek, however seemingly unattainable, is also a positive. It keeps us motivated, helps us achieve and in some strange way is something to strive for.

This letter really got me thinking about my process. I will Celebration of Light
watercolor painting be excited about a painting until about 1/2 way through and then the next one is developing in my brain and I begin to lose interest in the one I am doing. I begin to see the faults in this one and want to get to the next one because it "will be much better" somehow. The deal is, I am not living in the moment then and experiencing the joy that I should have in "just doing." When we mentally move on, it is pretty hard to do justice to what is presently on the table. I guess I will always be dreaming and planning about what will come next but I am going to try harder to enjoy the journey of where I am now as well.

Approaching an upcoming show with feelings of "Not much here..." and fearing what is here won't warrant attention, I have a strong urge to fight or flee. A constant dissatisfaction with my work and a striving toward something that approaches the quality of the artists I admire is the reason I keep painting. I can't imagine a day that I will say "Now I've got it!" There are brief moments and less than a handful of "leave alones" that keep me going. I have to say, I hope I never become satisfied.

The reason there is nothing much there is the same reason Study for Dangerous Dan
oil painting
8 x 12 inches there is nothing much here. All the good stuff is sold, at galleries, or given away. So what is left in the studio? The old stuff that didn't sell, the one the gallery didn't want, the ones not good enough to enter in competitions or give as a gift to a beloved relative, is all that is left here. Although I really want my next painting to be the best I have ever done, I would be happy if it was as good as my last best painting. I try to keep a couple "good ones" around long enough to inspire another "good one" while everything else sitting around is like the land of misfit paintings. Then there is the back room graveyard of "I didn't really paint that" paintings but we won't go there.

Although I can understand the "Nothing much here right now" Now and Zen
oil painting mentality, I wonder how many potential patrons are negatively swayed into not finding value in the art that is there by this sort of comment by the artist. After all, the patron may think that the artist likely knows best what is and isn't good in their work. After spending some time in sales, you learn quickly to keep your mouth shut and let the buyers make their own buying decision. It is not for us to put ideas of value, beauty, or usefulness into the heads of our buyers. Artists who hope to sell their works must realize that they paint not for themselves but for their patrons. It is up to their patrons to decide if the work is pleasing.

As a photo-artist, as I call myself, I may have 1000's of Westport Antique District
original photograph photos in my stock file but only one may lend itself to the picture I have in my mind. I am continually looking for new inspiration for that ONE. I spent years in the time I only dabbled in art as a hobby taking photos that I would use as inspiration in a painting. When I found time to paint, I still picked up the camera and found satisfaction in creating with a digital camera and my computer. I am still struggling with this photo-digital-art argument that somehow one who uses a camera is not an artist. But that is the space I am in and now I find it to be a successful venture for me. Because I am continually seeking to find new and better ways of expressing myself in my photo-art, I am constantly feeling I don't have much here. I have also discovered that the piles of pieces I think aren't what I want to show, may be just the creation that a client absolutely loves. I also believe that when I finally think I have a lot here, I will have lost the fun of reaching out to find new ways of expressing myself.

I am a flutest and as well as an artist, and one of my most Sunflowers at Sunset
watercolor painting memorable moments with a beloved teacher was when I complained after struggling with a particularly beautiful but difficult part of a Bloch concerto. I told him, "I am playing it perfectly in my head, but I can never seem to quite get there." "Ah, Carolyn," he replied, "That is the divine difference. It's what keeps the music alive." So too with art, and most of the rest of life, for that matter. The divine difference keeps us just a fraction (and sometimes more than a fraction!) from the perfect expression in our minds, and keeps us stretching, seeking, breathing and interesting.

Talent is not from some mystic natural ability. It is understanding that not perfect just means to do it better next time. It is the ability to move forward, and to imagine new possibilities. Talent is only the reaction to the actions of the creative mind. "Talent" is only a label that we as a society can use to pin on those who are not ever satisfied with their own accomplishments.

My 15 year old son, Steven, and I have had many conversations on the "why" some people find outlet in art. He has a strong curiosity of the mental makeup of creative types. The thing that makes an artist become one. Here is an excerpt from a story that my son wrote:

From Grey Inspiration – by Steven Davis-Gosling
"I painted for the first time in over a year and it felt new. Novelty breeds change and that is exactly what was missing in my life. A fear died in me that day. Though I don't know what is to come in this world of originality, I will take it in stride. I have dropped all things constant, including my job, and am enjoying the audacious new self I have found. I am now the blank canvas."

Today's letter struck a nerve. I did this painting while Stay cool
watercolor painting experimenting with abstract designs and a limited palette and assumed it was nothing worthwhile. I called it Stay Cool as that was the dominance I was trying to achieve. It was hanging, price $100, in a cooperative gallery, where I was the sitter for the day. I glanced at it and suddenly realized, "That is a good painting." I whipped it off the wall and subsequently entered it in many shows, winning several prizes and it helped me become a signature member of the Pennsylvania Watercolor Society . Don't throw out anything until you've had a long period away from the work so you can judge it objectively.

It's interesting that many of us, as creative people, suffer from Children & Childhood
Cahoon Museum of American Art 2007 the same issues. I'm reminded of the days when I used to visit a dear artist friend weekly - Jacob Knight - and try to acquire some of his work. He would use the same NHMS excuse. Several times I asked about what he might have available, only to be rebuffed softly, telling me that it wasn't good enough, or that it needs more work. This from a successful illustrator and painter. Then one day I asked again what piece he cherished most. Soon he came downstairs with a pair of paintings that he kept wrapped up in his sock drawer. The paintings were of Paul Revere and the Revolutionary War, and were used for a children's book several years before. They were beautiful and reminded me of Jacob in their innocence and style. I had to have them. Being a distant member of the family, I assured him that they would be kept safe if he let me buy them. He relented and, luckily for me, they are still safely hanging in my home today. Although he passed away over 12 years ago, I still visit him through the paintings I have acquired. They inspire me to paint daily with excitement and joy, although the result is certainly not perfection.

Rarely do I have moments of glee after finishing a painting, Dionyous Study
oil painting
3 x 6 inches but most often I'm looking to go to the next step, more refined technique, a different color scheme or a better, poignant idea. Since I find painting a continuous learning process - one of the great joys of painting - the thrill of the new is always on the next canvas. It's an evolutionary process.

I've become interested in monochrome paintings - Van Dyke Brown specifically - since winning the Gamblin Torrit Grey Painting Competition last year. It's all about values: high contrast, low contrast and full value rendering. I recommend everyone try doing one if you've never done one. And as a reminder, April is when Robert Gamblin issues the year's Torrit Grey paint, it's given away free of charge and his Torrit Grey Painting Competition is open to all.

I am often referring to this quote by Marianne Williamson Jazz
pastel painting (and adopted by Nelson Mandela) when I don't appreciate or share the work I am doing.

"Our deepest fear is not that we are inadequate. Our deepest fear is that we are powerful beyond measure. It is our light, not our darkness that most frightens us. We ask ourselves, Who am I to be brilliant, gorgeous, talented, fabulous? Actually, who are you not to be? You are a child of God. Your playing small does not serve the world. There is nothing enlightened about shrinking so that other people won't feel insecure around you. We are all meant to shine, as children do. We were born to make manifest the glory of God that is within us. It's not just in some of us; it's in everyone. And as we let our own light shine, we unconsciously give other people permission to do the same. As we are liberated from our own fear, our presence automatically liberates others."