Art Ave Nov-Dec 2009

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Being An Artist: Personal Truth

by Lalita Hamill, AFCA, BA

I am panicking. The deadline is looming for this `being-a-professional-artist-and-parent' opinion piece. I feel overwhelmed by fragments of ideas and tidbits written in journals and on my voice recorder, which contains the background noise of my three chattering girls. Yet no topic seems to be gelling into a coherent, focussed article.

I am paralysed. Now what?!

“Even if I finish something,” I think to myself, “how will I know if it's any good?!” By `good' I mean it holds the reader's interest, has an emotional impact, and stimulates thought. Perhaps I was foolish to think I could pull this off. Being relatively new to `creative' writing, I lack the skills to judge what will work and what won't.

Now if this were a situation in which I had to complete a painting, I would have little trouble making the series of decisions required to get it done. Even when I first started painting, I rarely felt fragmented and overwhelmed in this fashion. Despite having hundreds of ideas, I was able to hone in on one composition and proceed. The more experience I gained (and continue to gain), the faster I was able to decide which colours and materials to use, and how to apply proper technique.

I know that when someone feels overwhelmed by a blank canvas, they can take a series of steps to start painting. If using a photograph, they can do a “tonal map” before touching brush to canvas, to increase familiarity with an image. Or paint a solid colour across the canvas, or complete a loose monochromatic under painting. Or create a grid and draw the entire image piece by piece. There are many tactical solutions to the problem of beginning and focussing. I'm sure that writers have similar tools to unstick themselves from writer's block.

These are useful tools, but they do not address what is at the heart of being an artist. Why am I sitting here, staring at a blank canvas? Why do I want to paint? What is true for me right now?

The answer to this might be anything from a desire to create a beautiful painting to a drive to bring about in the viewer such feelings of disgust and horror that they wish to avert their eyes but cannot. While guidelines exist for specific techniques, colour use, and composition, your personal truth is just that: it's yours. You are sharing something of yourself, which makes you vulnerable, and the stakes for such sharing are high: you want to do it right.

But if you're not sure what is true for you right now, I suggest following the lead of a preschooler, who can teach us a thing or two about uninhibited exploration and experiencing the moment without judgment! Or sit back and breathe for ten minutes. If you are not used to focussed breathing, your busy mind will tell you at regular intervals that you should be doing something useful instead of just sitting there.

In the process of trying to get an article completed, I was so wrapped up in the idea of producing a “good” final product that I lost sight of the process. My process. My truth. My reasons for writing. As I wrote about my panic, reflections, realizations, and possible solutions, this article unfolded beneath my fingertips. Struggling with my lack of focus has taught me that sometimes, just writing something is the right process. Whether or not this article is any good, I trust you to decide. I am, as always, interested in hearing your comments.

“Anything worth doing, is worth doing poorly, until you learn to do it well.” - Unknown


	Hamill Studios \| home I Like It \| Art Ave Sept/Oct 2009 \| Art Ave Nov-Dec 2009 Art Ave Nov-Dec 2009 Being An Artist: Personal Truth by Lalita Hamill, AFCA, BA I am panicking. The deadline is looming for this `being-a-professional-artist-and-parent' opinion piece. I feel overwhelmed by fragments of ideas and tidbits written in journals and on my voice recorder, which contains the background noise of my three chattering girls. Yet no topic seems to be gelling into a coherent, focussed article. I am paralysed. Now what?! “Even if I finish something,” I think to myself, “how will I know if it's any good?!” By `good' I mean it holds the reader's interest, has an emotional impact, and stimulates thought. Perhaps I was foolish to think I could pull this off. Being relatively new to `creative' writing, I lack the skills to judge what will work and what won't. Now if this were a situation in which I had to complete a painting, I would have little trouble making the series of decisions required to get it done. Even when I first started painting, I rarely felt fragmented and overwhelmed in this fashion. Despite having hundreds of ideas, I was able to hone in on one composition and proceed. The more experience I gained (and continue to gain), the faster I was able to decide which colours and materials to use, and how to apply proper technique. I know that when someone feels overwhelmed by a blank canvas, they can take a series of steps to start painting. If using a photograph, they can do a “tonal map” before touching brush to canvas, to increase familiarity with an image. Or paint a solid colour across the canvas, or complete a loose monochromatic under painting. Or create a grid and draw the entire image piece by piece. There are many tactical solutions to the problem of beginning and focussing. I'm sure that writers have similar tools to unstick themselves from writer's block. These are useful tools, but they do not address what is at the heart of being an artist. Why am I sitting here, staring at a blank canvas? Why do I want to paint? What is true for me right now? The answer to this might be anything from a desire to create a beautiful painting to a drive to bring about in the viewer such feelings of disgust and horror that they wish to avert their eyes but cannot. While guidelines exist for specific techniques, colour use, and composition, your personal truth is just that: it's yours. You are sharing something of yourself, which makes you vulnerable, and the stakes for such sharing are high: you want to do it right. But if you're not sure what is true for you right now, I suggest following the lead of a preschooler, who can teach us a thing or two about uninhibited exploration and experiencing the moment without judgment! Or sit back and breathe for ten minutes. If you are not used to focussed breathing, your busy mind will tell you at regular intervals that you should be doing something useful instead of just sitting there. In the process of trying to get an article completed, I was so wrapped up in the idea of producing a “good” final product that I lost sight of the process. My process. My truth. My reasons for writing. As I wrote about my panic, reflections, realizations, and possible solutions, this article unfolded beneath my fingertips. Struggling with my lack of focus has taught me that sometimes, just writing something is the right process. Whether or not this article is any good, I trust you to decide. I am, as always, interested in hearing your comments. “Anything worth doing, is worth doing poorly, until you learn to do it well.” - Unknown