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The Angst Of A Relatively Angstless Artist

By April 9, 2012 7 Comments

filipiniana drawing 2b

How long has it been since I’ve made my last, legit and framed commissioned work? It should be around 5 years, thereabouts.  Every time I bump into old friends from the industry, I get asked how my art is doing.  I usually respond with a stiff grin or by stuffing my mouth with a bit more food while darting my eyes in all directions if only to avoid answering the question.

I’ve been in a real, deep creative slump for the last couple of years.  And it’s such an awful place to be.  I have been highly prolific in the kitchen, though.  But my paints have dried up, my brushes have stiffened and my sketchbooks have gathered dust.

I began my art career when I moved to Baguio in 2002 — a mountainous region in the Philippines somewhere up north.  It is cold, it gets foggy and at certain points of the year, it drops to 7 C.  Not bad for a tropical country.  Life was simple, time moved slow and I began to paint.

The art teacher in the  school I taught in took a liking to what I thought were mere doodles:  my work

“Really?”, I said.

I can’t even remember how and why she saw my work.  But it was because of her constant prodding plus the relentless encouragement from her husband (a great percussionist, I must add!) and my colorful flatmate (another creative soul in my life).  Shortly after, I had my first ever art show in 2003.

Later on, I got thrust into the different art circles of the city as I went back to the concrete jungle of Manila.   Somehow, I got lost in the hype of press releases, the need for a detailed CV and the pressure to fit in.

At the core, I never felt that I really belonged in any of the circles.

My work is not profound — and I doubt it ever will be.  It will not spawn an analysis worthy of an analytical essay.  It’s not even something that will make you ask, “Hmmm, what were the artist’s intentions behind the painting?”

 

Me? I looked outside the window and I saw mountains.  So I drew just that while listening to the soundtrack of “Rent”.  🙂

My drawing — it is what it is.  Eventually, because of my style and choice of colors, my work got boxed in.  Then, I, too, felt boxed in.  And that is never a good thing for any artist I know.

Over time, I got different kinds of feedback — what to do, where to study, who to talk to, how to compute the value of my work per square inch, and which editor to approach.

Really, all I wanted was to draw.

I simply got overwhelmed with too many instructions around that it led me to stop altogether.

However, I do have a friend who happens to be a successful gallery owner who carries Sotheby pieces and auctions paintings worthy of royalty across the globe.  Somehow, he has never given up on the thought that I will (and should) paint once again.   He has taught me that one valuable thing that I still carry with me today:

“Please don’t study art anymore.  If you do, your authentic style could disappear.  You already have something that makes you different, and that is sincerity.  Your sincerity, the imperfection — that is your art.”  

His first question every time we meet is,  “When are we having your show?”.   He’s probably been asking me that question since 2004, and I’ve produced nothing more than a lopsided grin.  “You have too many excuses”, he would joke (but I know he really wasn’t completely joking).

I set up this blog early March with hopes of posting brain farts about art and food.  What I didn’t expect was that my work will actually be recognized by strangers across the world.  I put up my old paintings in the posts as a reminder to myself of what I was able to do, hoping that it will motivate me to pick up from where I left off.

It’s been a month since and with the support of some friends from the blogosphere,  I can already tick off two of my blogging goals:  to blog from the heart and to draw inspiration from like-minded people.

I believe now is finally a good time to pick up the brush… and start drawing all over again.

🙂

Join the discussion 7 Comments

  • susangeckle says:

    What you’re going through might be perfectly normal. I also tend to have the same cycles of intense output and creativity, maybe 3 years, followed by several years of slump. I still work, but its of the going-though-the-motions variety.

    Maybe as artists we build up a reservoir of ideas, look at others work, assimilate everything. Then we have a creative outburst.We work, work, work The fire burns out. Then its time to fill up the well again.

    • Jar Of Salt says:

      It’s nice to hear thoughts from other artists, especially from those who can related to my current state of mind. Thanks for your insight — it means a lot, really 🙂 I keep a small notebook in my bag and have kept myself afloat by doodling in restaurants or during idle moments while traveling. I’ve always admired uber prolific artists and have wondered how the ideas just never run out. It’s amazing!

  • A journey begins with one step and usually the first step is the hardest. Don’t fall into the trap of setting expectations for yourself. Have fun doodling for even ten minutes today. Experiment and relax. Reward yourself with the joy of color. You don’t need to make a masterpiece but I sense a need to get off the starting block for your own sense of well being. I told a friend how stressed I get when I paint plein air and she just said, “It’s all toys in the sandbox. Just have fun and forget about getting it right.” So my suggestion for you is to go play in the sandbox, paint for the trash bin or whatever mind set will let you relax and just put some miles on those brushes. Go on…

    • Jar Of Salt says:

      You’ve hit the nail on the head, actually. I do have tendencies of wanting to get things right the first time around. I think painting en plein air is a true gift — with a great sense of perspective and eye-hand coordination. I usually need to see it on something flat, like a picture, for my brain to register the image to my hand.Thank you — I really, really appreciate your words of wisdom, to hear thoughts from people who understand this creative inconvenience. Lately, I open my sketchbook in hopes of filling it up once again. And the act of opening it to begin with is probably my first step (this could be promising!)…

      • You have no idea how much I understand what you are going through. Every day…really! Every day I have to tell myself to get in there and start painting. Don’t do another load of laundry, or waste time on the computer, or dust the top of the refrigerator. or, or, or…But once I get in there and start I can’t stop. It is crazy, but true. You aren’t alone and you aren’t perfect (I took a guess on the second one). Just start. You don’t have to sketch to blog or show anybody. Just do it. “If it’s worth doing, it’s worth doing badly.” (I find myself almost hysterical over that one because it is SO easy for me to get bogged down in details) You are on you way!

  • Coach Sue says:

    Inspirational reflections. You’ve made choices you need to and what worked for you. There will always be someone who has an opinion of what you need to do. What I have learned is to take what is useful and leave the rest. I’d say you’ve been taking a break to find yourself and create within and with another media. You’ve slowly brewing your own new art and what you’ve learned will come out in your new creations. Here’s a blog I wrote that might be useful to you and others.
    Thank you for sharing your art.
    http://couragetoadventurecoaching.wordpress.com/2011/08/27/fresh-air/

    Sue Bock
    http://bestlifeafterbreastcancer.com
    http://couragetoadventure.com

    • Jar Of Salt says:

      Thank you so much, Coach Sue. It was a most awkward and uncomfortable journey of being unproductive but the good news is, since I wrote this post, I managed to fill up three pages of my once-idle sketchbook! It was through the support and encouragement of people like you here on the blogosphere that made me remember how to take that first step. It is the much-needed breakthrough in years 🙂 Your insights mean a lot as your post serves as a good reminder to be in the now — and to embrace everything about it 🙂

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