Yesterday, after writing out my fears of imperfection and my frustrations with where I was at in my creative journey, I headed into my studio, clear of mind, fresh of spirit, grounded in my body’s wisdom and knowing.
I had fun.
Sure, there were those moments where I wondered… hmmm….. where is this going? But each of those moments appeared as curiosity-filled elements of the bigger moments of pure joy in the art of being present and embodied in this moment, right now.
Did I mention… I had fun? ‘Cause I did!
And here’s the thing… I realized, as I was layering and wiping off, layering and wiping off, (I use a lot of baby-wipes in my art-making — you’re welcome Pampers) the ‘imperfections’ are integral to my art-making. They are part of who I am. A part I want to celebrate, embrace and allow to shine.
And that’s what my creative practice, both writing and visual art-making, teaches me every day.
To allow the artist within free and fearless expression, I must:
- Be curious
- Witness and embrace my fears
- Dive in and open up to vulnerability
- Seek imperfection
- Be present and revel in the moment
- Cherish, nurture and honour my process
- Let go of my ‘judgements’
- Celebrate all I am, beauty and the beast, yin and yang, light and dark
Thank you everyone for your wonderful and loving feedback to my angst yesterday.
What I heard you say rings true and deep within me: We gotta love the imperfections because there’s no such thing as perfect.
Years ago, when I was thinking of signing up for a painting course at a studio I often go to, the owner approached me and suggested I might think twice about attending that particular course. “It’s realism,” she said. “You’re going to end up frustrated as is the instructor. You’ll drive her so crazy with your need to redefine reality to your sensibilities, she’ll ask you to leave.”
I had to laugh.
She was so right.
I don’t ‘do’ realism. At least, not in my art-making.
I love the unexpected. The rough. The blurry. The ‘impression’ and imprecision of suggesting there’s a hammer without having to hit someone on the head with it. How they use that hammer, how they hold it, see it – that’s up to them. Not me.
Me. I’ll be the one in front of her easel, apron over her linen dress because she couldn’t be bothered to change, and because, isn’t it wonderful to wear your ‘Sunday best’ when doing something you love?
Ultimately, that’s what my art is all about. Self-expression for the pure joy of it. Arting-it-out for the love of being present in the moment of creation, that moment when my heart sings and dances in concert with the world in and all around me.
Oh…. and… this painting was inspired by Mother Nature. Yesterday, when I stepped into my studio I noticed that one of the robin chicks had stepped out of the nest and was standing on its edge.
It sat there all day, not quite ready to fly, but definitely testing the temperature of the air, the strength of its wings as it savoured the possibility of flight.
(It’s a bit blurry as I don’t want to get to close and scare her.)