The artist’s goal in the process of painting is to allow the artwork to grow. The attempt to perfect each part of the artwork often ends with the artwork's death.
From the very first moment that I started painting all I ever heard from any of my art teachers was to relax with the brush, try not to get to tight and keep the paint and the brush strokes flowing and free. Easier said than done. One of the constant companions of the beginning artist is often fear. And it is that fear that prevents the new artist from painting expressively. We tighten up and our brush work reflects that. And then we fall in love - with our canvas or some part of our canvas. That is the kiss of death for a painting because now we are so in love we can't change or move anything. And, as the painting grows, it must remain flexible. We have to be ready at any time to move something or take something out in order that the painting may work as a whole.
In many art schools, even in this day and age, there is a horrific custom that is practiced by some art instructors. I was visiting some friends at their summer cottage some years ago and one of their guests was an art professor. He proudly told this story about one of his students. The student had been working on his canvas for quite some time and was having a great deal of difficulty with it. As I recall the story, the student was not receptive the suggestions and comments of this art professor and the student was having a terrible time letting go of some elements of his painting. So, this art professor walked up to the student's canvas, took out a knife and slashed it!!!! Every time that I think of this story my heart just stops and I stop breathing. Better to put the knife in my heart!
While I do think this practice is extremely abusive and I want to know by whose authority this is a good and acceptable method of teaching, I also understand the concept of the exercise. I remember hearing such stories when I was in college from my roommates who were art majors. They explained to me, the fearful beginner, that you can never become so involved emotionally with your painting that you can no longer see it nor be able to make changes. We should always paint as if the painting might be slashed at any moment - always remaining just a little bit removed from the painting process, always ready to start over if the need arises. As my beloved teacher Helen Van Wyk used to say, "If you can't adjust, don't paint!!"
I learned this lesson at one of my first attempts at landscape painting. I wanted to paint outside and I wanted to paint like Monet. I had the painting skills of a web footed monster but that wasn't going to stop me!! My neighbor had a garden with a great variety of plants, shrubs and terraces. What heaven to paint there - and he let me come to paint whenever I liked! So I set up my equipment and was painting second of three paintings. My painting portrayed a house way in the background with a stepping stone walkway leading up to a thick, low brick wall which had a mailbox built into it. I spent hours on the perspective and was quite happy with how things were progressing. At one point I was painting in the brick wall and mailbox. Oh my!!! It was perfect!!! I had never painted anything perfect before!!! I couldn't stop staring this wall and mailbox that I had painted. I loved the brush work, the colors and all the shapes. I fell in love!
But then, in a shining moment of awareness, I saw that I had put the wall and the mailbox in the wrong place in the landscape. My heart stopped and I stopped breathing. How could I ever paint this again? How could I ever make these same colors and get this same effect again? For 20 minutes I was gripped with anxiety. I was paralyzed by my fear and apprehension. I couldn't paint. And then I heard the wee voice in my head - "Just move it!!!! You did it perfect once, you can do it perfect again!!!" So I did! And it did come out perfect again except for the fact that I didn't move it far enough and now I had to make it perfect 3 times in a row!! But I did it. The painting didn't blow up and I didn't dissolve into a pile of poo. Once I let go I was easily able to re-paint my wall and mailbox. I also learned that I would not wait 20 minutes to move something again. I would just do it and spare myself the pain. That moment of holding on almost lost me that painting which I did sell down the road. It was my slashing the canvas moment. I was somehow able to disconnect from my emotional attachment and make a decision that was best for the painting.
Paint is a very forgiving medium. I love to paint because the paint forgives me. I can mess up to my heart's content and then return to the painting with fresh paint, a fresh eye and apply corrections to any part that needs fixing. Nothing is every certain until my painting is signed. My day in the garden was one of the most important lessons that I could have ever learned. I don't know if I could have emotionally survived one of my teachers slashing my canvas. I didn't have the experience at that time or the emotional stability to handle such an attack. I am so grateful that I never had to go through that but every time I paint I think about how I would feel if the painting at my easel was destroyed before my eyes. If my answer is "my life is over I'm going to hell" then I am holding on to tight. If my answer is "I feel bad but I have another canvas in the other room" then I know I am good shape! Happy painting and remember to let go.
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