Trusting instincts

A Marilyn Moment

Original oil painting  28x22"

by Susan Roux

Painting is unusual. Most things, do them long enough and you almost become an expert.  I know this like the back of my hand. Sometimes you feel you could even do them with your eyes closed.

Not true with painting.

It seems no matter how long you paint, or how good you get at it, there are always those pesky paintings that give you a run for your money. For some unknown reason they just won't come together. It's like back paddling, never pushing you forward. You begin to feel like you're just moving paint around. Colors that were once alive, dull. The more you layer, the worse it gets. At some point you might even consider wiping down the entire canvas. It's how I felt yesterday while toiling on this painting.

But...

Frustration can be your friend. Seriously. It doesn't feel like it at the time, but when you get to the point where you're ready to just trash the entire canvas, freedom and spontaneity take over. The big brushes come out. There's fearlessness pumping through your veins. That "I don't give a care" attitude can propel quantities of emotion onto your canvas. With big bold strokes, you find yourself hacking into your work. Where you once delicately painted detail, you now obliterate with a single stroke. Oddly it seems to be better. Either that or you just feel better unleashing. The painting takes an unexpected turn. A clearer direction, perhaps a new direction announces itself.

Often a new day and fresh eyes help. You might even put off going into the studio. After all you're expecting to see a terrible mess, but it usually isn't as bad as you remembered. Those bold strokes of late yesterday seem to compliment. That's when you know your gut took over. There's an empowering drive in trusting your instincts. It's comforting to see your instincts didn't fail you.  Even through bad days behind the easel, the creative you persevered. There's wonderful energy in that. Part of you suddenly becomes reassured.

When the going gets tough the tough get going. Kevin Mizner recently posted about keep on working especially when everything is going wrong. He never brings it full circle to connect with the painting process, but it's implied.

Where do you land on this? How long do you work a painting? Do you try to salvage or does it get dumped as soon as it begins to go awry?

Are you trusting your instincts?

Utter frustration...

Its been an interesting day, to say the least.

Toby and Leslie are evolving. I added more color to his face and worked hers some. I lightened the background to the left of his ear. That helped. The proportions are still off. If I could make a vertical fold just left of her nose and bend it to reduce the size of her face as it approaches Toby's, I'd be doing pretty good. Unfortunately this is not paper and I can't move the right side closer to the left like that on my canvas.

Here is a superimposed version of the painting and the actual photo I'm working from.

It clearly shows some major problems. When I line Toby's face up she looks like this. When I line her flowing hair up, she looks mostly correct, but he's all askew.

I was advised by the master to begin anew.

Say what?

I'll repeat it. I was advised by the master to begin anew. I did not take to these words lightly. Verbal resistance was my immediate reaction. In the end it all came down to how much I wanted to push myself for the sake of learning. I've never been one to settle for mediocre, so in complete frustration, I grabbed a new canvas and got to work.

I won't put you through the exasperation and groaning I experienced yesterday, but for those of you who heard I never came to blog, this is why. I was very busy in an angry sort of way. Suffice it to say, my attitude wasn't pretty.

Here's the new version. (Yeah, again my colors are off. The camera just doesn't understand what's on my canvas...)

Here's the new painting superimposed with the photograph.

Do I need to say anymore?