Painting #4

Today's painting was inspired by a drawing that Ella made on Friday morning. Often, she'll come into my room when it's time to get up, and come to find me writing at my desk. Then she likes to color a picture with my colored hilighters or my fancy black felt. She made a picture of these cone-like figures with feet and--what are those lines across? Arms? I liked the shape of them and wanted to make a painting that included them.

I've played enough with paints before to know I love working with a few mediums--acrylics, pencil, indian ink, which I purchased a bottle of on a whim sometime last summer. I wanted to do these figures in oil pastels and smudge the edges, but didn't have a chance to make it to the art store this week. Maybe the smudged oil pastels will appear in future paintings, but not today.

What I am really enjoying about this process is working with what I have. As a writer and songwriter, I spend a lot of time thinking about what I DON'T have to work with... I need to learn to craft scenes more clearly, or sew the pieces of an essay together more seamlessly; if only I could play the banjo or find a cheap out-of-tune piano. Blah blah blah.

The detachment that has come with my Painting on Sundays project has given the the "whatever" attitude to get some work done. Maybe this is what Keri Smith means when she says you have to have enought "fuck you". Maybe it's what Julie Doiron meant the other night at the Streaming Cafe when she said that to keep doing music, a part of you has to believe that "you're the shit". (pardon all the profanities!)

Anyway.

It's a relief to be creating from this place, and I am intending to transfer it into other areas of my life.

xox

Painting #3

I have to say, the bookshelf threw me. I'm not so into 3D.

But I'm enjoying the blotchy color and I like giving myelf permission to not have to do literal faces.

I began alone today, but the whole paint-needing-to-dry thing threw my time projection off again. I really need to get over this. I left it drying on the kitchen table, and got busy making soup, then went to finish it up quickly before supper. Or should I say, intended to finish it up quickly. As I started to squeeze colors, my 2 daughters couldn't resist. They promised they wouldn't get it on their clothes, and so I squeezed them each a little pallet. Iryn (age 7) painted a big black cloud (which seems fitting seeing as how she's been lately) and Ella (age 4) painted the two of us holding hands under the sun. The process was certainly not as peaceful as it had been earlier when I was alone, but it was good nonetheless. Maybe painting will become more of a communal thing around here than another one of my solitary pursuits. That would be fine with me.

Painting #2

Okay, so it's Monday and I'm only now getting a chance to upload this. But here's my painting from Sunday...

So I laid out a layer of color first, and then realized I'd have to let it sit to dry.

I got all huffy and impatient.

After that, I painted some colored circles, but then realized I'd have to break to let THAT dry.

Then Ella, my four-year-old came over and ran her fingers through it.

I'm learning something about myself already.

I have this, er, issue, where I think everything going to take, like, 5 minutes, when really it takes half an hour or more.

This time issue thing seeps into every aspect of my life and I'm learning that its resistance is something that creates a lot of unnecessary frustration in me, and steals a lot of joy.

I've been like this as long as I can remember.

I've always run up stairs, always banged myself against walls, always burned myself on the stove trying to get something out too quickly, always spilled my tea trying to fill it too full.

I've always tried to find the shortcuts. In school, I avoided homework until the very last minute. All my grown-up life I have created work for myself where I could control my own hours so as to avoid the pressure of deadlines. This has resulted in having nauseatingly long to-do lists, and, at the end of the day, never feeling like I accomplished enough.

But recently, I've been noticing how depleting this habit is.

I dream of having a measuring stick within myself. Of being able, at the end of the day, to say "enough", and feel happy with the work I DID get done.

Last Christmas, after spending the whole fall dreaming of having a few empty days to myself to write, I took a trip up to a monastery to participate in a silent retreat for 3 days. Even there, with other people doing most of the cooking, and only a tiny cubicle of space to care for (a bed, a small desk, a lamp) I still felt myself resenting the small tasks that needed doing - having to make my bed as part of the monastery rules, having to share in the preparation or clean-up of one meal a day. I still only got a small amount of work done, and I still ended each day feeling like I didn't DO enough, didn't accomplish enough.

This is when I realized that - clearly - I had a problem.

Was I going to live my whole life resisting the small, menial tasks like brushing my teeth, doing the dishes, preparing healthy food and tidying up after myself? Obviously the right answer was no, but I needed to re-adjust my thinking more than a little bit in order to stop resisting these things in favor of more creative time. It became clear to me that I had in fact been, very simply put, resisting life itself.

Since then, I have been trying to make peace with time limits. Trying to make my lists smaller, trying to be more realistic about what I can accomplish in what amount of time. Whether I'm at a monastery, or at home with my 2 young daughters to care for and laundry to put away, I still only have a few hours a day to devote to creativity. Any more than this sets me off-balance, causes me to neglect other important things like walks or housework or eating (which leads to a diet of cheesetoast and plain yogurt - not altogether unhealthy, but seriously lacking in veggies!)

Julia Cameron, drawing on her experience as a recovered alcoholic, writes a lot about the idea of "creative sobriety"; a way of living where you are setting do-able goals, and not burning yourself out. Her writing quota is 3 pages a day. For such a prolific writer, this is amazing to me that she has gotten so far on such a small amount of daily writing.

Painting every Sunday is a good, grounded practice for me. On the one hand, it reminds me that I don't need a lot of time, I just need to get something down to feel satisfied and like I am moving closer to something. On the other hand, it reminds me that not everything is instant, like photography (maybe that's why I LOVE it so much!) Some things take time. It is necessary to honor this process, and to approach it with patience and respect. As Barbara Sher says in her wonderful book Wishcraft: "Great deeds are made up of small, steady actions, and it is these that you must learn to value and sustain."

By the end of this year, for better or worse, I will have painted 56 paintings. I will be that much closer to being able to paint those images that float through my head, calling to me in my dreams.

Painting #1

Okay.

So it's Tuesday, January 5th.

I'm a wee bit lagging on the New Year's Resolutions thing....Between family gatherings and a headache and a surprise visit from a friend from out of town, I only sat down TODAY to scribble my intentions for the upcoming year.

One of my intentions is to paint more.

More, as in, more than once, like last year. Yes. HIGHLY disappointing considering it was on THE LIST of things I'd do more during 2009.

See, two years ago, I started seeing paintings in my mind as I'd fall asleep. Sometimes they were swirly patterns, sometimes faces, sometimes trees blowing in the wind. They were messy and colorful and strangely,deeply satisfying.

I have never really painted before - that is, since I was six and obsessed with painting Smurf Toadstool houses on big roll-out paper in Madame Piche's class. But everyone paints when they're six. However, last year, I wanted to start painting, badly. I pictured finding a little sliver of time 2 or 3 days a week to, you know, draw a picture, spread some paint around and...voila! The goal would be imperfection over perfection. Messes over meticulousness. Bravery over brilliance. I priced out canvases (yikes!), bought a tiny book, stocked up on acrylics, and prepared to let go....

This happened, as I mentioned, ONCE.

And why? Because this is what I do: I am constantly setting my jumps way too high, making big plans that inevitably set me up for frustration and failure.

Take recently for example: On January 30th, I started a blog called "A Year of Art". I intended to make a piece of art (a photo, sketch or painting) every day of the week and post it on that blog.

As soon as January kicked in, even just the THOUGHT of keeping it up made me want to take a nap. "There I go again." I thought. "Setting goals so high they're impossible to reach."

I suppose there's a pay-off to this. You get to slump your shoulders and give up. You get to blame something else--lack of time, the kids, too many wretched school newsletters to sign. This ensures that at the end of the day, you don't have to put yourself out there. Putting yourself out there, even to yourself, is FREAKY.

But the catch is that nothing gets done. And so long as you're relatively okay with that, it's fine. But I'm getting tired of it. Wasn't it Anais Nin who said: "And then the day came when the risk to remain tight in a bud was more painful than the risk it took to blossom."?

I'm not saying I'm going to blossom here. Please. I couldn't handle the pressure. But I am ready to open a little, to say that I want to paint, and to try, and to take the risk of making imperfect things.

And this is what I am slowly, oh, so slowly figuring out: that setting small goals is the only way anything gets done - around here anyway. Also at Mother Theresa's house, apparantly, because it was her that is known for having said: "We can do no great things; only small things with great love." And I have pinned this quote up on my bulletin board so I can stare at it every day.

So this blog is my small little offering to the art that seems to want to bloom inside of me.

I will not post something daily, I will probably not even make something daily.

But I will paint on Sundays. And I will post whatever I make here. And I may, if I feel so inclined, share my thoughts on creativity and other such things. Or not.

I look forward to meeting you along the way.

With love,

Kim McMechan