How a Sunflower Painting Brought Back My Creative Joy: Behind the Scenes in the Studio
Right now zinnias, dahlias, cosmos and marigolds color my garden and feed the bees, butterflies and hummingbirds.
I can’t bring myself to cut bouquets, knowing the wildlife relies on the flowers, but every day I harvest veggies and herbs for my kitchen. We’re especially enjoying the tomatoes and eggplants right now.
I’m trying to spend as much time outside as possible, bringing my work out to the patio table whenever I can. These perfect days won’t last. Perhaps that’s part of what makes them so sweet.
Last week I mentioned starting a new painting to chase away negativity and to celebrate finishing a big commission. It was just what I needed, spending time with paint and flowers.
As soon as my sunflowers started blooming, I couldn’t wait to paint them. I had an idea in my head for the painting I wanted to create and I was eager to start on it.
My sunflowers are now all bowing their heads, their seeds ripening, so I had to rely on photos as reference.
Working from photos isn’t my favorite way to paint, but I’ve done it a lot this summer. For this painting I played with color and texture, making a piece that was a bit more stylized than much of my art.
I painted it for myself. For the joy of it. As an experiment. As play. There was no hesitation and although at times I wondered if it would work out, I didn’t stop or overthink. I just painted. And when, halfway through the painting, I dropped my brush, splattering paint where it didn’t belong, I just kept painting.
As I worked I thought about how important it is for artists to explore ideas like this. How important it is to keep going with a painting from start to finish, even if it doesn’t seem to be working. It’s how we grow. How we learn.
In a recent Art Note, Tara Leaver pondered the labels “self-taught” and “formally trained”. In the end she concluded that every artist is self-taught. We learn through the process. We’re taught by the art itself.
I love this idea.
We all learn by DOING. By making art. By showing up and digging deep into the process and the materials. We learn when we’re open and curious. And we learn when we fail.
I think it’s one of the hardest things for beginning artists to accept. That taking a class or reading a book or buying the best supplies won’t immediately transform them into the artist they dream of being. I think so many beginners give up too soon. Proclaim they have no talent before they’ve given themselves a chance to grow their skills.
I have more thoughts to share about learning and growing and developing as an artist, but I’ll save them for another day.
While I worked on this painting I flip-flopped between feelings of loving it and being uncertain of where it was going. But I kept painting. Kept adding layers. Kept adding details.
Between painting sessions I’d wander into my studio and look at the painting. Each time joy and excitement would leap in my chest. And so I came to finish this piece. With patience. With determination. With joy.
Just looking at it makes me happy.
The commission I recently finished was challenging and it was fun. And it taught me so much. I refined my process of working from photographs with each piece.
My sketchbook was with me through every step. Planning paintings on its pages is one of my favorite ways to use my sketchbook. The spreads are often messy. The sketches rough and done with light pencil marks. I write myself notes and tape in color swatches and photos. Recently I’ve taken to making pockets on the pages for piles of paint swatches.
My sketchbook is bulging and every spread is dear to me. Again it’s about the process and the experience, not how the pages end up looking.
Dear reader, I hope you’re leaning in to your creativity. I hope you’re doing things that bring you joy. I hope you’re crafting and refining a process that is dear to you and savoring creative rituals.
This weekend, listen to what calls to you. Follow it, whatever it is, without hesitation, without overthinking and don’t give up, no matter the outcome.