How do you go from doubt to curiosity?

I don’t draw because I know I should, I draw because I want to discover what things look like.

“The minute you choose to do what you really want to do, it’s a different kind of life.” – Buckminster Fuller

The act of painting or drawing the world around us comes supercharged with both hope and doubt. Recording what we see immediately involves comparison and judgment. It can feel loaded. The deck is stacked against us. How can we possibly do justice to the beautiful immensity of what we see before us?

What is this doubt? It’s fear. Fear that the recording of what we see won’t stand up to the scrutiny of others or even what we imagine the outcome should be in our own heads.

What is this hope? It’s curiosity. The excitement that comes from discovering how what we see in front of us is translated by our mind and by our hand. The discovery of who we are in relationship to the world around us.

8paint Inspiration Friday - How do you go from doubt to curiosity?

Portraits from life over the years.

8paint Inspiration Friday - How do you go from doubt to curiosity?

 

When I sit down and paint a portrait of someone I know, I get to look at them again in a completely different way. I’m not drawing the story I have cataloged in my head about who they are, I’m responding to the uniqueness of that person sitting in front of me. The more sensitive I am to the nuances and characteristics of their features, the closer we become.

Seeing each plane of the face, and the subtle shifts in color and value, and recording them faithfully, brings that person to life on the canvas. What makes a portrait powerful is understanding how to see who is sitting in front of me and then allowing myself to get out of the way.

“That’s fine for you,” you might say, “but I can’t draw a face.”

Well, neither could I. But I love looking, and I’ve discovered that the process of learning is a lot simpler and less scary than thinking about what we don’t know.

Letting go of the need to be right (our doubt) and embracing the desire to explore (our curiosity) is an incredibly inspiring way to live.

If you could paint anything, what would it be?

What’s missing in your portraits?

How do you go from doubt to curiosity?

Are you just born with it?

Self doubt is the killer of creativity.

“It is not that I’m so smart. But I stay with the questions much longer.” – Albert Einstein

How many times have you heard or maybe even spoken the words “I wish I had just a little bit of your talent.”? At the heart of this statement is the belief that the perceived “talent“ is out of reach for the speaker. The words come from a misplaced and limiting belief, the assumption that talent is selective.

Now, don’t get me wrong. I recognize that we are all born with different attributes and gifts, and that’s a great place to start. It can also feel like a good reason to stop if we are willing to believe in our own limitations, but talent goes much deeper than that. Talent is born from hunger and curiosity. And that curiosity is available to all of us. Greatness comes as much from lack and dysfunction as it does from privilege and ease.

8paint Inspiration Fridays - Are you just born with it?

Our job is to move the conversation forward, not to finish it.

“What if they’re wrong?”

“How can I take this further?“

“What am I missing?”

“Who do I need to learn from?”

“Why have I stopped?“

“When if not now?“

Every real problem worth solving is paired neatly with what appears to be an insurmountable obstacle. But this is the beauty of our humanity, each of us share in the solution. And that solution is to keep leaning in. Learning, hoping, risking, trying, and trying again. Discovery lives right on the other side of the wall. We just have to find our way through.

A microcosm of this tug-of-war with doubt is on display almost every time I’m face to face with a new painting. There is a spark of mystery, and I jump in excited to find out what it’s about.

And then, sometimes sooner than later, there is the difficulty. The composition that I just can’t seem to solve, the expression that doesn’t feel quite right, the colors that can’t live together on the canvas. And this is where I have to remind myself to stretch and to show up. The solutions are somewhere.

Sometimes, the answers don’t come easily and the sprawling ugliness looking back at me from the easel begins to whisper insults, casting dispersions on my character and ability. And in those moments, who am I to argue? The painting isn’t telling me otherwise. Maybe I’ve lost my touch.

What I have had the privilege to learn is that there is more. It’s coming and it will be beautiful when it arrives. The simple act of continuing forward and staying present is the solution to the mystery.

What we should try to avoid, is saddling ourselves with the heavy and misguided belief that we have failed, that the answers aren’t there for us, or that our time for excellence has passed. We’re just not there yet, but we won’t get there if we allow ourselves to believe that talent simply isn’t for us.

Line your paintings up on the floor or hang them on a wall. Grab a sketchbook or a notepad. Write down three things that you like about each one. Be specific. The paintings don’t have to be any good. You can find something in them that is working. Start there. Start with a group of “there’s“. This is a jumping-off point and a great way to keep moving. The answers won’t show up if we refuse to ask the questions.

How do you dismantle your walls?

What gets you through the hard part?

Are you just born with it?

Does Inspiration Take Work?

Last week’s post started with my statement that “painting should be thrilling”, and it should be. But it’s not always that way. Sometimes it feels like work. And sometimes it feels like it’s not working at all.

“You can’t wait for inspiration, you have to go after it with a club.” – Jack London 

When I’m inspired to try something new, I take big bites. Like the young fever achieved from a heady combination of Saturday morning cartoons, orange juice chugging, and power-eating bowls of Honey Nut Cheerios.  The rush of the new is palpable, and it’s also fleeting. The afternoon would find me face down drooling on the living room carpet. But even at that tender age, I knew that I had to push through and reset or the weekend would be lost.

In the same way, starting a series of paintings is all thrills, with a full serving of energy bursts included in every box. The starts are magical because they’re new, and new is always exciting. But halfway through the process, some of the paintings will inevitably hit a rough patch. The novelty has worn off and I’m face-to-face with a painting that’s unwilling to give me anything back. The thrill is gone.

What does this mean? That I don’t know how to paint? That this painting is crap? Is this yet another confirmation that I should’ve been a dentist? All are possibilities for sure, but the real truth is that creating art, like anything else, takes work to do well.

8paint Inspiration Fridays Does Inspiration Take Work?

Breath in the beauty, breath out the paintings.

The solution is in the doing. Instead of seeing these mediocre paintings as failures and proof that you should never have been a painter in the first place, recognize the opportunity. If you don’t love it, there’s no harm in continuing to paint until you do. And the beauty is in there. Believe me. It turns out that the painting was just teasing you. Testing your resolve. You may only be a brushstroke away from a breakthrough.

Sometimes it means taking big risks. If we’re not in love with the painting at this stage, where is the harm in doing something radical and brave? Even if our new solution doesn’t work, that risk leads us back to paintings that are thrilling to paint, and painting should be thrilling.

Do you have some paintings that need another visit?

Is halfway good enough?

Does inspiration take work?