Should I Give Up on a Painting?

Guys, I’m going to be honest - this painting was seconds away from not existing. 

I knew it was going to be a tough one, for the simple reason that the painting I finished prior to it was a breeze. Three hours, one sitting, done. Everything seemed to go right with minimal effort. There were flaws, to be sure (I see you, derpy right eye), but on the whole it just sort of...came together.

The price of such a magical, out-of-body art creation experience? The next piece is going to be a STRUGGLE. 

I’m not sure if it’s because it sets a false expectation for your process, or if you expend all your existing creative juju on the good piece, or if it’s just the universe maintaining balance. Whatever the reason, be prepared for an artistic roller coaster.

Cue this new painting. I was out of creative ideas, and couldn’t get a clear vision in my head of what to paint. This would have been a great time to tackle one of the many DTIYS’s I still needed to do, but apparently logical Emily was checked out for the day.

As a result of her absence, here is the chaos that ensued.

The Sketch

I finally sat down with a color palette (a desperate Hail Mary play inspired by my last blog) and a high-level concept, but still didn’t have an fleshed-out idea of what I wanted the piece to look like. This was the resulting sketch:

The composition was off, and I knew as I sketched out the flowers that I wasn’t going to have the patience to paint them. Goodness, I really hate flowers. But I told myself they would be loose and abstract in the background, so there was no need to worry.

It was in this duped illusory state that I proceeded to the coloring stage.

The First Color Layer

I wanted to do the painting in a watercolor style, since that had worked out well in my recent paintings. This style would also hopefully lend itself well to the abstract flower background (which I still blissfully thought was going to happen).

After some of the initial strokes, though, I detected it. That feeling. That awful sensation that spells doom for any piece: indifference. I was carelessly slopping on strokes, and couldn’t be bothered to zoom in or pay attention to my reference photo. And boy, did it show.

This is where I took my first step back to ask myself if I should scrap the piece. I had only spent about an hour on it, and knew that I hadn’t developed an emotional attachment to the subject or the message. If I’m not feeling connected to the piece, my audience won’t either. 

But I couldn’t bring myself to abandon it just yet…

Zoom It In

Then I remembered another fatal flaw of mine: I love details. I thrive on zooming in and rendering teeny tiny nuances. The subject was simply too far away in space to accommodate that desire - the details wouldn’t be visible to the eye if she existed in reality, so it wouldn’t be correct for me to paint them. Plus, I wanted her to feel like she was having a calm, intimate moment - and what better way to convey intimacy than to bring the viewer closer to her?

So, I zoomed that sh*t in.

Gosh, I love digital art. But I wasn’t out of the woods yet.

The Second Color Layer

Even with the zoom, I was still being lazy in my rendering. I decided that switching up the technique might help. I was trying to use the watercolor brushes like I would my opacity airbrush - maybe I just needed to appease my subconscious desire to paint in that style. So I gave that a go.

That went well, and I was feeling better about the piece….for a brief moment. 

When In Doubt, Abstract It Out

But then, the time had finally arrived. Even though zooming in reduced the quantity, I still had to deal with those dastardly flowers. 

I started blocking in the background, attempting to feel out the colors and shapes. 

To no one’s surprise, it didn’t go well.

I tried so many different techniques, but I knew the patience wasn’t there. I again wanted to scrap it. This simply wasn’t going to happen.

Guys, why? Why do I do this to myself?

This piece had already sucked so much out of me as it was. So I turned to my favorite standby: watercolor abstraction with a crap-ton of sparkles.

The Moral of the Story

This piece fought so hard for its existence, and although the subject looks a bit too much like me I’m pretty happy with how it turned out.

So, we come to the crux of this post: should you ever give up on a painting?

First, the good stuff. By not giving up on this painting, I was forced to:

• Acknowledge my personal preferences and comfort zones;

• Be more in tune with my artistic process, and understand how my emotions and actions while painting are trying to tell me something;

• Problem-solve, problem-solve, problem-solve.

The entire piece felt like a conversation with a therapist as I tried to tease apart why I was struggling and what I could do to fix it. It was a compromise between what I was and was not mentally able to do at the time (I see you, flowers - or rather don’t see you, because I didn’t have the willpower to make you). Did I push my comfort zone in this piece? Not necessarily - I think the initial sketch would have been a bigger step in that direction. But I wasn’t going to be able to pull that off, and accepting that was a learning moment.

That said, are there instances where it’s okay to give up? Absolutely. I think it also would have been okay for me to acknowledge that I was feeling uninspired and scrap the piece. I logged over seven hours on this painting - way too long, given the results. We don’t always have that time or mental energy to spend.

Bottom line? If you feel stuck, I would challenge you to try to push through. You might be surprised at the results! But know that there is no shame in not being able to take that rigorous journey, and permit yourself to make that call if it’s time to bow out gracefully.