Things Are Rarely Perfect for Our Dreams

I recently started watching Landscape Artist of the Year (2016). I remember hearing about it, but I didn’t bother watching it even though I do enjoy these calm British artist/crafter competition shows. My reasons for not watching it had nothing to do with the show it’s self. I couldn’t face those artists, the existence of them, out there in the world living wonderful artist lives.

I found it depressing, because I wasn’t living that life. I tried for a brief moment and enjoyed it, but I also let it go too easily.

Back around the time the show started, I was making art. Painting most days. Watercolors, acrylic abstracts and eventually moving to encaustic medium. It was wonderful. I participated in local art markets and sold a few things to people not my friends or family.

But then things changed. I reached a point where I felt I was churning out paintings like a machine, not selling enough to even cover the cost of supplies and wanting to do new things that just were safe or possible to do in my bedroom. (working with encaustic medium requires hot plates, open flames and ventilation). We had wild fires burning near our house and were on level 2 evacuation preparations. Everything important, including my art and supplies, got packed up and moved into storage. When we were able to bring things back home, things stayed packed up.

I did get out my watercolors, a pricy selection of tube paints, because watercolor doesn’t need much space or dangerous tools, only to discover that every tube of paint had dried out and hardened. While this doesn’t mean they are a total loss, they can be saved, it was another obstacle that I didn’t have the right tools to deal with. Another blow to my already fragile art practice. It’s been several years. Those tube paints are still waiting to be saved. I miss them. I’ve bought a cheap set of paints just to have something to play with, but it’s not the same.

I miss those days of making art. I miss painting even when I’m doing other creative things. Like I miss writing whenever I’m not writing. Or photography when I’m not photographing things.

I couldn’t watch Landscape Artist of the Year because it was just to depressing. Now, I’m finding it inspiring. I love seeing all the different kinds of art being made. It makes me itch to be painting.

When I go on road trips, I take my art journal with me. Then never journal anything while traveling. Part of this is feeling like I don’t have time to be still long enough to make a little painting. Always having to get to the next stop. It’s not reflective of the way I want to travel. This year, I think I’ll do things a little differently. At least as far as painting goes. I don’t know that I will accomplish the slowness level I’d like with traveling.

My creative attention has cycles and I like being able to work on different kinds as they draw my curiosity. Which is totally OK. What I have to watch out for is ignoring a creative expression because situations aren’t perfect or I can’t do things in the exact way I want. But in reality I’m so tired of making do. Making do with no space to do the work I want to be doing. Making do with not having the tools/supplies to do the work I want to be doing. While art can be made anywhere out of anything, it can be hard when you can’t do the thing that you are dreaming of.

In these moments, and they are just moments, it’s important to keep making art in whatever way you can AND keep yourself open to opportunities that will move you toward making the art you are dreaming of. Those opportunities might not be perfect. They might be side steps or back steps. They might appear to have nothing to do with art at all.

We can’t allow ourselves to get stuck in the “I Can’t”. To shut ourselves down to the immense amount of possibilities swirling around. Because they might not look like we think they should.

I am so guilty of this kind of stuckness. Of knowing I want to be doing something and then doing nothing to move toward that thing because of small imperfect conditions.

I know I love painting. I want to paint more. What have I been doing to help that happen? Absolutely nothing. I’ll never get anywhere like that. Even if I can’t do the exact painting I want to do right now, there are still paintings I can do. By taking the time to paint, photograph, write, whatever, I’m telling the Universe that I’m ready to do more of those things. That this is the way I want to spend my life. Then opportunities for those things show up.

Another thing I find myself doing is not allowing to do the creative things I want if I’m not doing it for money or think there might be some way for me to make money from it. I treat buying art supplies as if it is a waste of money instead of an investment into myself. I never think buying yarn is a waste of money. Yarn turns into useful things, even if they are things I won’t wear. But art is also a useful thing that I’ll never wear. There is not real reason for me not to invest in myself by suppling myself with art supplies.

My point with all of this is that, most of the time the reasons we use for not doing the things we want are silly. There is always some small step we can take in the direction we want to go in. Even if it isn’t a straight line.

Where am I being silly about not doing the thing I really want to be doing?

What is the worst that can happen?

Where am I participating in my own misery instead of moving toward joy?

Our current system of society requires we stay in our misery. But we don’t have to be willing participants in our own abuse. Create the thing. Create it badly. Ugly. Messy. Joyfully.