You know, in September when I started this blog, I thought that one of the side benefits of writing about my art making would be that it would force me to make more art. OK, not “force” but, you know, apply a little pressure. Some small amount of persuasion to be creative on a more regular and more productive basis since there were people “out there” reading what I wrote (well, theoretically anyway).
If anyone is keeping score out there (and seriously I have my doubts that anyone is paying that close of attention, but if you are, then cool! and thank you) you’ll know that there are a few art projects I’ve written about here on this blog that, well, have sorta kinda never come up again.
Hate to admit it, but I have lots of “works in progress” that aren’t really progressing much, with the exception of Fortune Favors the Brave, which has been my focus lately (deadlines take precedence, that’s my excuse).
I have let some work languish, and I feel badly about that. I got bored, frustrated, disgusted (that might be a little harsh, maybe “displeased”) or some combination of those.
(On the positive side, at least the projects in question didn’t necessitate purchasing a small kiln and all sorts of other expensive supplies that never got used…a story for another blog post…)
Remember the Love Letters to myself? Back in December I wrote a post about letting go, and in it I included a bit about this series of small, quick, fun pieces I was creating and then mailing to myself (if you didn’t read the post, then this will sound sad, and it kinda is). I started these 3″ squares in November, with the idea that I would create one a week. At the time I wrote about them I had completed four.
To date, I have done twelve. If you do the math, although you don’t need to because it’s obvious, there should be a lot more than 12 by this point. And it’s been weeks since I did the last one.
I do love them hanging on the studio wall, pinned up with gold map tacks, and I do love the idea of hundreds, creating a big sparkly quilt on the wall. But I don’t know, Life happened, they stopped being fun, and I lost my momentum.
Then there is the Still Life series. No. 1 was finished at the end of 2014. No. 2 was finished early 2015. Numbers 3-5 (that I wrote briefly about at the end of this post) never actually became real, physical pieces. The beginnings of one are on the computer. Does that count? As for Still Life No. 6 (mentioned here and here, back in March)…I just sorta stopped. Frustrated. Not liking where it was going.
Where There’s a Will There’s a Way
Bear with me, I’m weaving a metaphorical tale here, but if you get bored just look at the pictures and jump to the end…
Right along with the story of the quince bush we tried to kill, we have a Cecil Brunner rose in our backyard that has a mind of its own and is finally flourishing after 15 years. Not only that, it’s blooming in its original spot in the garden and not the place we supposedly moved it to (evidently we need to learn more about digging up plants).
We planted the rose, in honor of my mother, next to a huge tree stump that had been left in the yard by previous owner(s), figuring that it could climb and cover the stump eventually. It never really did well, had a couple random roses bloom eventually, but then we had to remove the stump before it just fell over and demolished the fence (and potentially a car in the neighbor’s driveway next door). So we moved the rose next to the studio, put up a trellis on the side wall for it to climb.
A few years back the rose by the stump came back. Just a couple rosey tendrils with thorns, no flowers. We stuck a decorative iron thingy over it, not having the heart to kill it or move this new version. It existed like that for a few years, not doing much.
This spring, not sure what happened (we certainly didn’t help it along), but all of a sudden there were shoots that sprung up over 20 feet, resting in the lower branches of the pine tree! It was like Jack and the Beanstalk.
I was just going to cut it back, but because we are lazy people, the next best solution was to buy a trellis and just let the new shoots hang over it.
That photo above is a miracle. Fifteen years to get all those flowers! (Hi Mom!) (the bush by the studio did bloom for a couple of years, but a really cold winter killed all the branches, and it had to start completely over from scratch…no flowers on the new iteration yet).
So what has this rose to do with unfinished art work? I see it as a lesson in tenacity and perseverance. Fifteen years to get this amazing, flowering, climbing rose. This is what we envisioned on the tree all those years ago.
The plant just kept doing its (latent) Jack and the Beanstalk Enchanted Bean Thing underground, year after year. I need to just keep at my Artist Thing. Hunker down in my element, keep working. Give the art work time. Abandoning an idea is ok, but don’t quit just because the work becomes tedious.
If you want the end result you envision, hunker down and do the work. It will take time.
With the Love Letters, I think it’s not just boredom, it’s a lack of commitment, not being in it, totally, for the long haul. I know what I want the end result to look like, it just takes a consistent time commitment. Even when it’s not fun. Either that or make it fun again, but if I want that wall full, I need to commit to that end goal.
With the Still Lifes, I’ve actually been thinking about them a lot, working out ideas on how to make them more interesting to me and also better. Thinking about what the end pieces will look like, trying to up my game, and figuring out how to get there.
Also, I now have another deadline! 🙂 I’ve been invited to participate in a group show, in a new (to me) gallery, in summer/fall of 2017. I’m super excited about it, I envision my Still Lifes hanging there, but I will need actual pieces to hang on the walls, so…
I just have to keep at my (sometimes Enchanted) Artist Thing.