Starting

“It’s not where you take things from — it’s where you take them to.”

― Jean-Luc Godard

“What counted was that I had, after years of running from it, actually sat down and done my work.”

― Steven Pressfield

My husband Tony has made our home into a bit of a haven. You see he has this thing for Sherlock Holmes and the essence of all things Old English Gentleman-ish. This has led him to create a sitting parlor in our living room, complete with bookshelves, artwork, unique chairs, a french love-seat with claw feet and a small dry bar, all centered around a roaring fire in our fireplace. He’s also mastered the art of making a good cup of coffee. All of this is a breeding grounds for inspiration and good conversation. I like to think artists emerge from the mortar between the bricks of our walls. I wish I could have everyone of you sit here with us. Perhaps one day.

Last night we sat together reading, hearing the crackling of the wood in the fireplace, and I told him he has created a magical place. I am fond of artists who get a vision in their head and are able bring it into living color. I know his Sherlockian home will continue to evolve and I’m glad I get to be a permanent fixture in the space.

As he got up last night to pour himself a small drink, and I do mean small because he likes to savor all the flavors he’s learning about, he said of his entire 8 bottle liquor selection, “I bought without knowing what I liked. I just knew what others liked.”

To which I replied, “That’s a good place to begin.”

But in this living room, nothing gets said flippantly. Everything has another layer of introspection available for the peeling if you’re just willing to do the work. And so I peeled back those words, and found another layer there that wanted to speak to me about art.

My friend Mandy said she tells the students in her art journaling class to look at and try a lot of different techniques and see which ones they are naturally drawn to. “It’s important to pay attention to what we’re doing in our art journals when no one else is looking. When no one else’s expectations come on us. These are signs and roadmarkers to where we really want to be.” (You can be inspired more by that here.)

When Bach wanted to learn how to create his own concertos, he studied Vivaldi first. When I wanted to put myself through writing school, I studied some of the greats.

My mind flashed to this old blog post of mine last night, and I was able to see it with a new layer of grace for myself and for my journey. So much of learning to be ourselves comes from studying those around us. Sure, there is an element of comparison that can be harmful, but there is also an element of humility that says, “I’m going to need some help here just getting started, otherwise I’m never going to get started at all.” Once Bach figured out the core elements of a concerto, he had the proper tools to create his own. Tony will eventually figure out his preferred palette with a dry bar, but a wise beginner is not afraid to ask questions and not above using seasoned research as a foundation to build on.

Over the years a certain look of visual art has come to the forefront of my tastes. This has only happened by exposing myself to a myriad of options, by knowing what others liked and starting there. Picasso, Rembrandt, Da Vinci, Van Gogh, etc. But now, I know it when I see it. I know my preferred style, and I want to spend some time sitting with the artists that do it well, so I can learn. So I can refine my palette. So I can key in on what makes a particular piece move me, and so I can figure out how to emulate that.

Let’s be honest though. Sometimes the romantic in me doesn’t want to study the craft. It feels like a dissection of beauty, and once I get to the bottom of it, I will have named all the smoke and mirrors for what they are and the magic of art will be sucked dry. But is it really that that stalls me, or is it the fear of trying to replicate beauty and accidentally making something ugly in the process? Of learning I can’t actually pull off what I’m attempting?

I think it’s more the latter.

And there has to be something to get me over that hump, or I just remain an admirer and never a creator.

I’m wondering if the thing that gets me over the hump is the permission to copy. To copy a craft, so that I might use it as a tool. To realize that in copying a craft, it’s going to be ugly at first. When my training wheels came off my bike for the first time I did a lot of screaming. Just ask my dad. And I remember gingerly picking myself up off the neighbor’s perfectly manicured lawn on more than one occasion.

Why wouldn’t those handlebars do what my mind was telling them to do? Because first my body had to learn the craft. Why couldn’t my soul soar like it wanted to with windblown hair around our little culdesac island? Because first my body had to learn the craft.

I’m not mis-reading my soul when my art doesn’t come out like I had in mind, I am just training my body first to learn the craft. We think we have tongues that can’t appreciate fine tastes. We think we have arms that weren’t cut out for handlebar holding. We think we have fingers that are too shaky to ever make the paint say what our soul tells us it should. Our soul gets fed up and impatient and it starts second-guessing itself because the body is saying it can’t keep up.

I want my autonomous gypsy soul to have patience with my body. And I want to study and learn the craft of the art that moves me without my soul getting all up in arms because it assumes that means I’m dismissing its unique voice. If my body tells my soul, “You are so brave, and I promise I’m working on making your dreams possible,” maybe it won’t be so disgruntled within me.

Maybe I even want to put myself through a self-led art school where I cut to the chase and get into the nitty gritty of my preferences. You’ve got to start somewhere, right? And the point is starting. (My friends would label this #dobravethings and Teresa would call this a #sparklydare. I call it necessary to my survival.)

Tagged as: art, artist, body, craft, perfectionist, preference, procrastination, skill, soul, style