Why I keep coming back
For the past couple weeks I've been exploring different directions with my artwork. I found myself returning to a style I developed a few years ago.
I don’t see painting as an activity so much as an inner conversation. But not with those voices that discourage or negate our possibilities! I'm talking about the kinds of questions we ask ourselves that need an honest realization.
A few years ago I was using a process that involved layering papers, sanding the surface, and then adding washes of color. The results were surprising and beautiful, but the process could be hard on the body. Part of me wondered, is this technique finished with me or is there more to the conversation?
Clearly, the question couldn't be answered intellectually. It needed to be answered by doing.
So I painted a smaller version just to see what I could see. It was a little like the song, The Bear Went Over the Mountain (to see what he could see).
What struck me as I looked at the finished piece revealed much more than the original question. Instead of certainty, I got recognition.
Recognition of direction, of nuance, of so many more opportunities than I had been aware of.
When I originally created paintings this way, I was entranced by how I kept seeing new elements in what the painting was doing. Now, making another painting in this style showed me how it aligned perfectly with the technique of asking questions that I teach others to use - usually questions that can't be answered without consulting a deeper source within us.
That's one of the most compelling reasons I paint.
Because using art to answer questions like “what do I do in this situation” isn't really about making art. It’s about bypassing what’s in our mental feedback loop so that our own inner wisdom teaches us something that resonates and confirms what we need to know.
Painting is a conversation starter. Usually it’s between the maker and the viewer. But a way in very few of us know about, it can be a conversation with ourselves. A dialogue where we begin with a question, without knowing the answer in advance. With painting, a color suggests another color. A shape changes what comes next. Something unexpected appears that I never would have planned.
And so it is with asking ourselves a question, or having an intention, before we start making art. What begins as an exercise in putting color, line and shape on paper becomes an invitation to notice something we didn’t see before.
I've discovered that insight seems to work this way as well.
We usually ask ourselves a question and immediately try to think our way to the answer. We weigh our options by searching for certainty. We make endless lists, often putting the same questions on new pieces of paper thinking that will magically give us the answer. Yet many questions, especially personal ones, don't respond to that kind of mental effort. Instead, those questions reveal themselves through participation.
By being open to see what wants to be revealed rather than pushing to make something happen, listening is the way in. This is how we receive answers without having to analyze. We ask a question and then pay attention to what emerges.
I certainly don't return to painting because I'm disciplined. I return because that's where I can stop trying to manage my life and start directly participating in it.
This is why I’m such a big proponent of simple art-making to help make decisions that come from our own inner knowing rather than logic. Painting (or sketching or doodling) reminds me that not everything important can be figured out simply with words.
Oftentimes, it’s the images that appear on paper that reveal what words alone could not. And the delight and satisfaction in experiencing what’s really true for us far surpasses any Ben Franklin list of pros and cons we could attempt.
Maybe you’d find this process something worth exploring, too.
I don’t see painting as an activity so much as an inner conversation. But not with those voices that discourage or negate our possibilities! I'm talking about the kinds of questions we ask ourselves that need an honest realization.
A few years ago I was using a process that involved layering papers, sanding the surface, and then adding washes of color. The results were surprising and beautiful, but the process could be hard on the body. Part of me wondered, is this technique finished with me or is there more to the conversation?
Clearly, the question couldn't be answered intellectually. It needed to be answered by doing.
So I painted a smaller version just to see what I could see. It was a little like the song, The Bear Went Over the Mountain (to see what he could see).
What struck me as I looked at the finished piece revealed much more than the original question. Instead of certainty, I got recognition.
Recognition of direction, of nuance, of so many more opportunities than I had been aware of.
When I originally created paintings this way, I was entranced by how I kept seeing new elements in what the painting was doing. Now, making another painting in this style showed me how it aligned perfectly with the technique of asking questions that I teach others to use - usually questions that can't be answered without consulting a deeper source within us.
That's one of the most compelling reasons I paint.
Because using art to answer questions like “what do I do in this situation” isn't really about making art. It’s about bypassing what’s in our mental feedback loop so that our own inner wisdom teaches us something that resonates and confirms what we need to know.
Painting is a conversation starter. Usually it’s between the maker and the viewer. But a way in very few of us know about, it can be a conversation with ourselves. A dialogue where we begin with a question, without knowing the answer in advance. With painting, a color suggests another color. A shape changes what comes next. Something unexpected appears that I never would have planned.
And so it is with asking ourselves a question, or having an intention, before we start making art. What begins as an exercise in putting color, line and shape on paper becomes an invitation to notice something we didn’t see before.
I've discovered that insight seems to work this way as well.
We usually ask ourselves a question and immediately try to think our way to the answer. We weigh our options by searching for certainty. We make endless lists, often putting the same questions on new pieces of paper thinking that will magically give us the answer. Yet many questions, especially personal ones, don't respond to that kind of mental effort. Instead, those questions reveal themselves through participation.
By being open to see what wants to be revealed rather than pushing to make something happen, listening is the way in. This is how we receive answers without having to analyze. We ask a question and then pay attention to what emerges.
I certainly don't return to painting because I'm disciplined. I return because that's where I can stop trying to manage my life and start directly participating in it.
This is why I’m such a big proponent of simple art-making to help make decisions that come from our own inner knowing rather than logic. Painting (or sketching or doodling) reminds me that not everything important can be figured out simply with words.
Oftentimes, it’s the images that appear on paper that reveal what words alone could not. And the delight and satisfaction in experiencing what’s really true for us far surpasses any Ben Franklin list of pros and cons we could attempt.
Maybe you’d find this process something worth exploring, too.