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?

Gentle approach

Hello Little Bird

Original oil painting 20x16"

by Susan Roux

After being thrashed around by Scarlet, my hot ticket, I was determined to find innocence. I took Hello Little Bird to the opposite extreme. I needed to calm myself after the frustration and aggravation Scarlet the tartlet gave me.

I must admit that though my anger stills surfaces at the sight of her, I do think she's well done. I laugh thinking she may be the first in the series to sell. One thing for certain, she sparks conversation!

The art class that convened after she was painted was instantly in an uproar of excitement and laughter. I mentioned how I couldn't hang her on my wall because she still upset me so. Without hesitation, the gentleman in my class blurted that he would have no problem with her hanging on his wall! His eyes were popping out of his head. I think his forehead beaded with sweat. Comments of what this tartlet wanted rang sharply and continuously through the two hour session. Laughter on how she had control of me the entire time and my still visible anger permeated the room. Scarlet caused quite a raucous! At one point, I had to move her out of the gentleman's sight. She was too distracting for him to accomplish any painting...

By the end of class I had become the brunt of their jokes. Finally I picked her up and held her in front of my easel at the height she was when I painted her. Instantly the laughter stopped as they glimpsed the angle at which I was being stared at. That strong glaring attitude piercing down on me was extremely intimidating. Suddenly they understood my boiling feelings.

Next, an observation made from a beginner student, surprised me. She has only been painting since September. Her insight is keen and she mentioned that since I created her, there must be part of myself in her. Somewhere in my core is this floozy and perhaps I'm so upset with her because she exposes a part of me I like to keep hidden... Ouch.

Moving on to Hello Little Bird...

I started with a calm pose and changed a lot of things during the painting process. I was crabbing at a direction, a feeling, I wanted this painting to possess. I was unsure of what that should be. At the beginning I had a breaking wave in the foreground.

She didn't seem to want to pop like all my other girls in this series. Finally I removed the wave that lined up with the highlight of her skirt. She became a stronger image. I kept struggling with challenging focal points. I painted splashes around her feet. At one point the bird was nearly annihilated all together. A clear direction for this painting was not visible. Then it hit me. It was all about her approaching the bird. The splashes need to go. The feeling I was looking for was one of gentleness. A soft non-intimidating approach was necessary. The bird needed to trust her.

Finally with a clear focus, she quickly took on an angelic feeling. The drape of her dress reminded me of wings. I can almost imagine her raising her arms and watching them transform into beautiful, light-catching feathers in a vision on an angel that only the bird can see...