I hate artist's block, and will always hate it. However, I do have to admit that the ensnaring gyre of creative lethargy, and self doubt that make up artist's block have sometimes served a purpose in my artistic life.
In my attempts to "swim sideways" and escape the current that has me trapped, I have made a few discoveries. My experiments that were meant to get at least something on the "canvas" have led me to new approaches, or techniques that I can later carry into those more creative periods. Even the attempts that have failed have taught me lessons. They've helped me accept that not every project I start will become a finished piece of art. Yet, even those false starts, or failures have a lesson, a purpose, and value.
The painting of Molly below, is an example of one of those experiments done during an artist's block. I usually start with the background of a painting (Here's another blog post if you're wondering "Why start with the background?") and was desperate, at the time, to find an easy way to fill space that didn't look as uninspired as I felt. Poking around the packrat areas of my studio, I eventually found a piece of paper doily left over from a previous still life setup. I got lost in tracing each one of those delicate holes, and eventually managed to create a background as dainty, and gentle as little Molly was. I've since used a different ornate, but not distracting pattern in the background of another successful portrait, and plan to continue to collect interesting patterns for use in the future.
I'm currently stuck in another bout of artist's block. One of the most recent attempts to break loose is the still in progress fox experiment below. It's a wildly uncomfortable trip into the world of acrylic painting, and leagues outside of my comfort zone. It certainly has its bright spots though. I've been able to play with charcoal in the drawing process, and I get to use some of those wildly expressive full arm movements that my established style of watercolor painting won't tolerate. I'm taking it very slowly, and would be thrilled if the painting succeeds, but I've also accepted that it may end up in my pile of fails, and false starts.
Most importantly, those unhappy periods of artist's block have taught me to truly appreciate those opposite periods filled with ideas, and creative drive. It's all too easy to take for granted those paintings that practically paint themselves. Perhaps, to balance out the menace of the dread artist block, we should come up with a name for those periods of creative vigor also?
For now, I must remember to remind myself of the subtle value of artist's block while I take a moment to tread water, and regain a little strength before starting yet another attempt to "swim sideways."
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