I am not a painter. I am learning to paint. I don’t want to paint like anyone else. I want to paint like myself. Like me. There is no other me. Why would I want my paintings to look like someone else made them? Why would I want my paintings to look like something that has already been painted? Why would I want to stand in front of a canvas and paint from a dishonest place, swipe paint with a liar of a hand and a dishonest heart? I want to paint like myself and no one else. This doesn’t mean that I want to make something that the world has never seen before. I don’t care about that. I’m not sure that’s possible. But I want the work to be original to me, as in, it truly wells up out of me, unaffected and true. I am private about my painting. It is a selfish pursuit. I’m also afraid. I think I am private because I am afraid. I am afraid to make ugly paintings but I know I will — I just realized this fact two days ago. I will probably paint one hundred ugly, meaningless paintings before I paint just one good and strong painting that is honest and true. If I can make that single honest painting after painting one hundred awful pieces of trash, I will be on the threshold of heading in the general direction of perhaps being a painter some day. But there’s something else you should know. I want to be honest about the entire process of learning to paint and I do not want to rush that process. I want to take all the time I need. I want to wade through all the failure that comes with the small successes and I want to see the breadth of my effort, appreciate my effort, appreciate the honesty of my effort, and I want to work hard and stay humble (which is harder than you might think). I might not make a wholly beautiful painting until I am eighty years old. That’s ok. I loathe the idea of rushing success, of being obsessed by success, of not putting in my time, of not working my heart out, of caring more about achievement than the actual creative work. I think rushing towards success creates bad habits and meaningless work. I cannot abide by that. I want my work to have meaning. I want to paint. So I am painting. As honestly as I can. I am as patient with myself as I can be. I don’t really know how to begin, I’ve been beginning for a while now, so I continue to start small, as I always do.
I do not want to make the marks I have seen others make, no matter how much I like their work, no matter how beautiful those marks might be. I want to realize what my own marks are and use them when I am painting. This means taking the time to loosen myself up, play, create like a child does. This means pastels! This means late at night, I sit down on the living room floor with my big sketchbook and I simply play. I allow myself no more than two or three minutes for each page. I unbind myself from self-consciousness and I literally scribble in oil pastels, chalk pastels and charcoal. I randomly draw shapes and forms without allowing myself to think too much. Sometimes I reach out and smear it all to heck. I roll my sleeves up higher on my arms and go crazy. I work for an hour. I create thirty pages of zaniness and freedom. I feel happy and poured out. I look over the thirty pages of work and try to notice any preferred forms, shapes, colors, smearing and shading — little details that catch my eye. I don’t take anything too seriously. If something is ugly, I don’t take it hard, I remember I gave myself two minutes to pour color out on a page and if the page turned out ugly, it’s ok. If ten pages are ugly, it’s ok. Ugly is ok. Ugly is part of it all. Ugly can be honest. It is what it is. I have, for the moment, unshackled myself from my fear. I am free of it. As I look over the pages of work, maybe, on some tiny section of one page I see something I like. Maybe I see something I love! That tiny thing that I notice, that tiny honest thing was worth the thirty pages of work. I am elated. So I do thirty pages more.
The work is worth the work and someday, I might be a painter.
Dear Jillian,
I can absolutely unterstand what you are talking about. Opening up a different door to express your creativity can sometimes feel like diving into a whole new element. It’s like exploring and searching for the right path. And in the end it’s all about learning through your experiences. Something new, another step, another view.
Stick with what you’re doing and nevermind the fear. There is so much creative blood pulsing through your vains. I’m sure it simply needs to get used to that chalk you’re holding in hands.
You’ll find your way!
Kathrin,
It does feel like diving into a whole new element. Part of the learning, when it comes to painting, is actually in the SOFTNESS of the paint for me. I have worked almost exclusively with metal for 7-8 years now! Comprehending how something soft is to be moved has been mind boggling for me! It’s exciting.
Thank you for sharing your thoughts here!
i love this so much.
so much.
xx
Darn straight! You may not be a painter per se, but you’re already a magnificent ARTIST!
It used to be a regular habit of mine, to scribble’n’sketch away purely for the fun of it… don’t know why I ever stopped. Thank you for this reminder and kick in the rump! I’m going to dust off my art box and play tonight.
Much love to you, dearest jillian!
Get back at it, darlin!
well, i have proof hanging on my walls that you *are* a painter.
and i hear ya’ on wanting your creations to be uniquely you.
love you, dear elf.
I don’t know about that… 🙂 But I sure appreciate your encouragement!
Yes! I love every word you have written here. I’m so inspired!
Robyn!
I found your blog last year and pop by from time to time! Thank you for being here.
So wise, honest, encouraging, moonshooting words! You rock, always. 🙂
Maija! Thank you. I try.
yup
you’re awesome!
love the vulnerability and honesty in this post
it is about our own shapes
our own colours
our own expression
truth is
we are all creators
some of us have forgotten
but all can be awaken
this kind of out pourings help
your words inspire
thank you for that
I think I love you just that much more : )
love and light
Cat!
You are blinding me with your high beams! 🙂
Always love it when you pop by.
X
Felicitaciones!!! estas aprendiendo a ser principiante!!! con la velocidad de este mundo, todos desean tener éxitos inmediatos, pero las pinturas son capas sobre capas y podría decirte que aunque una obra parezca terminada siempre se puede obtener un giro más…una pincelada más. Te noto entusiasta, eso es bueno y muy trabajadora…conseguirás lo que te propones.
Sigo tu blog hace un tiempo y me encanta, yo hago el camino inverso, pinto, pero quiero aprender joyería y estoy trabajando en ello :D.
Me gustaría escribirte más extenso, ¡te interesaría?, tengo tantas cosas por decir de mi pasión por la pintura y estoy tan de acuerdo con tu postura de ser uno mismo sin copiar a otro.
Translation: Congratulations! are learning to be beginner! with the speed of this world, everyone wants to have immediate success, but the paintings are layers upon layers and could tell that although a work finished look you can always get one more turn … a touch more. You seem enthusiastic, that’s good and hardworking … get what you propose.
I follow your blog for a while now and I love it, I do the opposite, I paint, but I want to learn jewelery and am working on it.
I would write more extensive, would you be interested?, I have so many things to say about my passion for painting and I’m so agree with your stance of being yourself without copying to another.
I love what you wrote about “…learning to be a beginner…” — exactly what I mean.
I would love for you to email me more of your thoughts. thenoisyplume@gmail.com
I totally understand and whole heartedly support you and these stirrings of painting. 12 years ago or so, I gave myself permission to play with pastels, watercolor, sketching and eventually, paints. I grew up in a household that was loving, but not entirely embracing of making art. And, I had the dreaded, “not good at art” experiences in school. So, I salute you and quietly support these fledgling ministrations of your heart. xo
…and I support yours.
Boy, does this resonate with me! I am also a private, secret painter. It’s hard to even say that, I guess because I just do what I do and it sure doesn’t look like anyone else’s work! I do think it is all part of the creative continuum – I know my knowledge of jewellery design informs my musings in paint and my playing with color (which is what I call my painting) informs my jewellery. Keep on playing, Jillian!
BTW – A BIG congratulations on your show! Perhaps someone from the gallery can send pics for you to share (for those of us who will not be heading West anytime soon!).
Ah ha!!!
Private secret painter!!! I’m glad to know that you probably know EXACTLY what I feel like at times!
Thanks for the congrats on my show. It’s a big deal for me. I’ll see what I can do about pictures from the show…
I want to share with you one of my favorite quotes. It’s from an essay by Carole Maso (the collection is Break Every Rule and one of the best, best books I own): “If writing is language and language is desire and longing and suffering . . . then why when we write, when we make shapes on paper, why then does it so often look like the traditional, straight models, why does our longing look for example like John Updike’s longing?” I told a friend about this once and now it’s a running joke about creativity/originality (or the lack thereof) in any kind of art. John Updike has become a kind of code word/reminder not to be tempted to try to create like anyone other than myself.
Great quote.
Again, I think it’s vitally important to approach creative work from a place of honesty. But I’m not so silly to think that we humans aren’t going to express ourselves in similar ways. I know what I like. Now I am trying to find out what I PAINT like. I’m not trying to make something that has never been seen before. That’s impossible. But I want to be honest with my brush strokes. I know you know what I mean.
You do give us things to think about. Truly I admire your search for honesty in all you do. I sometimes feel bad because I can’t find the time and the quietness to really listen to my thoughts and inner feelings. It’s not right. I’m so happy that you have that and that you share your thoughts with us.
I have been playing but with a camera. It’s been so much fun alltho there is always a tiny stress connected to it as it’s what I study at the moment. I love that my head is now full of images, pictures that make themselves into photographs little by little with time and practise.
Be well and paint dear Jillian.
Well, sometimes the quest for honesty ends in failure. As “a person” says in his/her comment below, I don’t live in a vacuum. 🙂 I’m under influence constantly. I turn on my computer, read the blogs of my artist friends, look at the front page of Etsy, flip through an art book…I see it all and my little brain is a sponge.
But there has to be a way to wade through all of that and find a way to honestly express myself with metal or a paintbrush or my pen on paper…to honestly express myself instead of creating things that are direct reflections of the creative work of others.
Have you read “Gifts From the Sea” — I think it’s an important one to read if you are a woman, doing creative work, or a career woman, or a mother. And it’s quiet, which I like. Anyway, the author writes about how it’s essential for everyone, but especially for women, to seek out quietude. I agree. There’s more to it than that…you’ll have to read it to get the full gist.
Be well and shoot beautifully, Anna.
I’m…not sure if I agree with you to be quite honest. I totally understand that you want your work to be completely your own, I think everyone wants their to speak solely for themselves, but I only think that you get that if you were born/exists in a vacuum. The process of living creates collections of experiences and those experiences are made by interacting with other people and things in our environment. I think trying to fight that is futile and also you risk missing being inspired by many things the world has to offer!
I’m not sure if I’m getting my point across in a good way so I want to point you to an awesome book (see link below) that I think explains it a million times better. You may have read it already but I truly love it! Even if you don’t agree with this view, I hope you can see where I’m and Kleon are coming from and looking at it from another point of view for a moment.
Enjoy!
– http://austinkleon.com/2011/03/30/how-to-steal-like-an-artist-and-9-other-things-nobody-told-me/
Hey there! I sure appreciate you being willing to share your opinion here! I hope you appreciate my response. I’m not actually interested in isolating myself from the world or from the work of other artists. What I am interested in is figuring out a way to paint, to create, that isn’t purely a reflection of what I see other artists doing. I know there’s going to be crossover between my aesthetic and the aesthetic of others. I celebrate shared aesthetic, similarities between the work of different artists, I think those similarities are proof of our humanness. That we all suffer, rise, and are able to see the beauty and discord of the world around us. As I stated in this post, I am not looking to make something that the world has never seen before. I just want to make something that is true to me, born of my OWN experience.
I have to disagree with your notion that everyone wants their work to be born of themselves. I think some folks are perfectly comfortable recreating the work of others.
Thank you so much for the book link! I’ll check it out.
PS Why no name? Were you afraid you were taking a baseball bat to a hornet nest? 🙂 I try not to ever be offended by opinion…
I guess I’m just having trouble following the train of thought, thank you for trying to clarify though. Again I do hope you enjoy the book as much as I do. As for the name, I’m just use to not using my given name is all. Next time I’ll make sure to use Lisbeth Salander 😉
Dear Heart, you are an artist. It’s so hard at times to remind ourselves that we need not always excel at what we do, to gain satisfaction, joy, delight. Your photography, your jewelry, someday your paintings will be as finely tuned. The joy is in the discovery too, even if it’s frustrating as heck. We are so lucky.
I agree. The joy IS in the discovery. I guess that’s why I can create 30 pages of muck and find that one tiny smear of pastel that thrills me… 🙂
Some wise man or woman said:
“a writer writes”
I would also say:
“a painter paints.”
We are what we do.
(hoping you share more than a peek…)
xx
Well…I love that.
I facilitate art classes from time to time (teach sounds ridiculous to me- everyone has the ability to draw/print/make) and the hardest part is convincing people they know what they’re doing, and that the feeling of uncertainty and strangeness can be a good thing. Everyone with a heartbeat can draw and dance. A lot of people don’t try making things because they won’t look like everyone elses’ or the way it “should”. My only rule ever- other than taking care of your tools- is that we leave words like ugly, bad, and crummy at the door. Interesting is a much better descriptor- and lets you think about marks and pieces in far more compelling ways than if you’re worried about it being good or bad- a simple dichotomy robs us of nuance. Have fun in your adventure- nothing more thrilling than using new muscles (its good to feel like a an unsteady caribou learning your legs from time to time).
Warm fuzz from twenty below.
(I love reading the comments on your posts nearly as much as the posts themselves- what a fabulous collection of folks you’ve drawn together!)
I agree — we get some good comments here:)
Love your thoughts on this and especially love “a simple dichotomy robs us of nuance…”