Beginners Mind

He stood there in front of the blank canvas with a little bounce in his heels, waiting for the moment to attack, like a cat waiting to pounce on it’s pray; the brush held loosely in his right hand. He had no idea what he was going to paint, it was best to just start, but sometimes starting was the hardest part. Only after he started would the inspiration come. He knew this well and yet every time there was a moment of hesitation, waiting for a sign, a feeling, or something mysterious to present itself.

Turquoise, that’s what I want! He loaded the brush with paint and let loose an initial spastic motion across the pure white canvas; swooshing and scrubbing like a madman until the white of the canvas was nearly gone. He threw the brush down and used his gloved hands to push the paint around and massage texture into the still wet paint. After about 20 minutes he stood back to look at what he had done. Interesting. What was there, waiting to come out? What was this painting going to reveal? He turned it upside down and walked backwards away from it until he was about 10 feet away.

He squinted his eyes and studied the wash of turquoise, the shapes and texture. He started to see a figure in the chaos that was prominent once he noticed it. It was an animal face, maybe. Or was it? He loaded the brush again with magenta and did a wash of color over a large part of the canvas, then yellow, then red…

The room narrowed down to the size of a small closet. His vision was no longer limited to his eyes and his awareness of his surroundings was reduced to a faint hum. He was in that place again where one enters into a dialog with God. The sacred space where selfless creation happens. Art has been made in all manner of places and states of mind but it’s this blur of time and space, called the zone, where the magic really happens. It can be hard to get here every time, and the portal doesn’t always open but when it does any artist will tell you that it’s hard to remember to eat, drink water and go to the bathroom.

The music stopped at some point but he barely noticed and was too occupied to bother to put the brush down and put on another album. He kept working for another hour before he came back to reality. He stood back and looked again at what was happening. I don’t like it. It has potential but something is off.

He rotated the canvas again, stood back and looked. Then again and again until he had tried all four orientations. The original figure he saw was still there but something else now caught his attention. There was an interesting wave of motion that was happening when he turned it sideways. A wild textural wave rose upwards from left to right and at the top was a geometric sun that shone down on a surreal impressionist landscape. Let’s go with that! What happened to the music? He paused long enough to put on music and take a drink of water. And he was back in it…

Later that evening after everyone else in the studio had gone home he was still working and something exciting was starting to take shape. I like this one! This has potential. He worked for another hour before he looked at the time. Jesus, 11:45pm. Maybe I should call it for today.

That night he couldn’t stop thinking about the painting and in the morning it was the first thing he thought about. I can’t wait to get back to it and see what happens with this one. After his breakfast and when some other obligations were fulfilled he drove to the studio with a fire in his belly.

I fucking love painting! How blessed am I to be able to call this my job. I’m living a dream that so many would kill for. Now, if I can only sell this new work I might be able to pay the rent!

He worked all day, taking a few breaks here and there and made good progress on the painting but it was slowing down now. The further into a work you get the slower the progress gets, or at least its harder to see. You can spend an hour on details that to many will seem barely noticeable.

People always ask the hilarious question, how do you know when its done? The answer is you don’t. You run out of time, you get bored with it, or stuck or maybe someone buys it right off the easel. In other words there is no distinct end. A work of art is never finished, only abandon, as the guy once said.

There are other paintings in the ether that need to come out. Time is limited. It’s better to make ten imperfect paintings than one you feel is perfect. And anyway, perfection is an illusion. It’s the mountain with no peak. Forget about slaving to perfection and just keep working.

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Let me know what you think, can you relate to this process? And don’t forget to check out my art if you feel inclined. Thanks for reading.