What if the mess is the point?
The other day in the studio, I made a big mess.
Not the good kind of mess that turns into a textured, exciting painting you just need to tweak — I mean the kind of mess where you take something that had potential… and accidentally push it one step too far. (Or in my case five steps too far!)
I decided to commemorate the occasion with this photograph
Before this studio session, the painting felt quite exciting. Maybe not 'there' completely, but full of promise. I was just concerned that there were too many small marks and I wanted to add something larger. So I added a block of green, but then felt it needed to be larger... maybe larger... maybe just a bit bigger....and then: "Oh crap I've covered the whole thing in a murky dark green!" lol
I think this is one of my strengths as an artist - I never settle, and I don't aim just for the surface impression. But our strengths are also our weaknesses and I do have a tendency to push things maybe a little too quickly, with this result.
If you’ve painted for any length of time, I’m sure you know this feeling. I'm sure you've asked yourself 'what were you thinking?' as you stare at the ruins of a once-promising painting.
But here’s the thing I’m reminding myself of — and maybe you need the reminder too:
This isn’t failure. This is the just what artists are supposed to do.
It would be so much easier to find something that works and then just repeat it forever. But we are artists and we don't get any satisfaction from repeating ourselves. That means every painting is a foray into the unknown. We venture out without a map or any directions and we trust that eventually we'll hack our way though the brambles and find our destination.
Sometimes I think we would be better off thinking of ourselves as scientists. A scientist doesn’t expect to find the cure on her first try (or her 30th). What she expects — and even relies on — is failure.
Because every failed trial teaches her something. Every experiment moves her just a little bit closer to the answer.
And that’s what I’m always doing in the studio — experimenting. Each painting is a series of questions. Some of those questions lead to discoveries; some lead to dead ends; but they're all necessary.
None of us can get to something new and exciting without pushing past our comfort zones. And yet we so often give ourselves a hard time. We say we've 'ruined' a painting. We tell ourselves we should have stopped sooner.
But here's how I know what should have happened - it did happen. It's really that simple.
So when I look at that “ruined” painting now, I don’t see it as a mistake. I see it as part of the path. One messy, overworked, valuable step forward. The next attempt might be better or it might be worse. I can't know unless I keep going and see what happens.
So if you’re in the middle of the mess right now — I just want to say: keep going. You’re not failing, you’re doing the real, unfiltered, honest work of being an artist.