The Proof is in the Paint

We all have that one thing that we are at least mildly good at that makes us feel a sense of pride when someone says, "Wow your really good at that." Personally, art has always been my source of confidence and most people who know me, including some rando Facebook friends, consider me pretty good at what I do.

While the praise and support from my professors and friends is awesome, it also comes with the anxiety of making exceptional work every time I pick up a pencil to draw. Whenever you stop practicing something, there is a chance you won't be able to snap right back into it. Much like a marathon junkie who hasn't seen a pair of running shoes in a few months, I am an artist who hasn't messed with paint since my high school art class. Naturally, I was both excited and terrified to start my new painting class this semester and see if I have what it takes to be the next VanGough, or at least paint a decent stick figure.

Last Thursday was the first time I've put paint to canvas in about a year and a half. From the moment I dipped the stiff bristles of my new brush into the thick swirl of Reeve's cadmium red, I was paralyzed with the pressure of painting the masterpiece that everyone, including myself, expects of me.

As an artist, there are few things more intimidating than the stark white stare of an untouched canvas. Something about the clean perfection of it all makes me doubt my abilities every time I start a new painting, which is something I haven't done in over a year.

The white surface is a direct challenge of skill, but it is also a starting point- a clean slate, if you will. There is so much potential in the fresh face of a canvas just waiting to be revealed through a few strokes of my brush. After a few minutes of sizing up the still life, I realized that the only way to unlock my own potential was to simply to just start, which is sometimes the hardest thing to do. I put away my doubts and fears and just sat down to take on the canvas, mono e mono.

So far, my painting is a half-finished blob of what the still life actually looks like. But hey, its only been one day of work, right? Even though it's kind of a hot mess right now, I am just happy that the hard part of getting started is over and now I can find my groove again. This process of delving back into an old talent has been and will continue to be a great learning experience for me. I have to basically prescribe the perfectionist in me with a chill-pill to take every Tuesday and Thursday as a way to stop fearing failure and start living more freely, even if it is just for a few hours each week.

One of my abstract acrylic pieces from 2009

Muh boi Snoop that I did for a friend in 2010