I've been passionate about art ever since my first coloring book in my childhood. I began to doodle in class in fifth grade. Drawing facial expressions and caricatures became a regular passtime after that. I'm not sure exactly when the idea that mine is not art but doodle play took hold in my mind. I suppose because I downgraded my creativity, working on my art was given less time. Even so, I cteated many works overtime, and my collages took much of my time. Those required forethought and planned execution. My drawings, however, were spontaneous and intuitive. My hand moved with my unclear thoughts and where my soul drove it to. I knew when it was done only because my hand had stopped. Of course, sometimes my hand stopped because I got distracted. More often, my hand stopped when my work had reached its completion. It was a mystery to me what I would be creating while I'm doing it. In this immersive practice, my mind would process on the back end, while my soul would totally surrender to the unknown and my heart would be at peace. I was not patient when it felt wrong or if I didn't like my work. I would either abhort the project or I'd rush into a contrived conclusion so I could be done with it. Little did I realize for so long, this was impatience arising out of anxiety. The anxiety emerged from fear that I would fail, that my work would not be worthy. All these machinations only engaged one side of my brain. My drawings were always highly structured with strong lines. The left side of my brain was at work guiding my hand with logic and analysis of memory information . The irony is
I thought because my work was spontaneous, often asymmetric and intuitive, that my work was free styling. On the contrary, it was rigid and dictated with logic and analysis of the narrave in my hidden thoughts. That was why my works emerged organized and structured. I found an articulation of the hidden narrative at a glance, but my impatience and anxiety persisted since I had no insight.
Recently, I enrolled in an art studio working under two masters. I began working on the painting above when it looked much different. I had initially splashed many vibrant and random colors loosely thinking of a field of flowers. One definite thing I wanted was a sunset sky. The painting is still in progress, but it evolved into green meadows and a forest, under the late afternoon sky. I've been working on this piece for over a month, three days a week, two hours per day. It still has a way to go. Today I felt my impatience surge as I worked on the blue part of the sky. The impulse to compromise entered my head. Then I heard my inner twin telling me to keep on working until I get it right. I was no longer letting fear and harsh judgment dictate my process. It was a call for patience and I heard it. The challenge to stay the course for a greater outcome was no longer anxiety provoking. It is actually something to look forward to. I want to create a sky that depicts not just a lovely sunset, but to capture the mood of a sunset in my soul. As we say in Mexico, poco a poco va a mejorar, I'm learning patience with art and I'm honing the art of patience with each color palate and each stroke I apply.
How is your state of patience? I'd love to hear how you stay the course.
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