Destroying and Re-creating

Yesterday I was in the studio destroying paintings.  Well, not exactly destroying, but in the middle of my process it would certainly have appeared that way.  I have a show coming up in September where I will be showing my two series of work that were exhibited in London and Poland.  There are two paintings with which I have never been completely satisfied.  As you may recall, I had repainted my original paintings, which were on board, onto canvas for the London show to facilitate shipping.  In doing so I sometimes was able to improve on a painting, but I didn’t always succeed in a second version that I liked as much as the first.  Often I would try to change one aspect to improve a painting, only to discover that there were other aspects that I hadn’t re-created successfully that made the painting work.  I couldn’t see that clearly until my second attempt provided a contrast.  It wasn’t that the painting didn’t work on its own.  It just wasn’t the original.  Ultimately I had to accept that it was OK for my second versions to stand on their own as unique and separate paintings even if their inspiration came from a prior painting.

But now, I eyed them and contemplated whether I dared to take a paint brush to them.  Is a painting ever done?  It seemed that my semi-abstract paintings were the most challenging.  The originals often had happy accidents that resulted in an effect that I couldn’t seem to re-create. Then in a moment of bravery I began to destroy my paintings.

I find that it is very difficult to destroy in order to create, yet some of my favorite work has arisen from such actions, once totally painting over a painting and turning the subtle image that remained into a new artwork. I admire people who don’t hesitate to start anew, confident that they will land on their feet.  I’ve had to learn to take those leaps and there is always a swallow-hard moment that precedes them.  Whether it is painting out a painting, or leaving a job to venture out on one’s own, each requires an act of letting go, ending one path to find another.  I suspect there is a constellation of traits that define those of us who struggle with such choices.  I’m a bit of a packrat, not good at getting rid of things.  I keep them for history or because I might want them some day or simply because I don’t know what to do with them.  But I admire my friends with streamlined lives and aspire to at least move in that direction.  I think it is by letting go that we make room for the new and that is true in life as well as in paintings.

Five years ago I made that leap in my own life, leaving a career in finance to focus on my artwork and family and cultural history.  And there were quite a few swallow-hard moments that preceded that.  It wasn’t that I didn’t paint or explore family history while I worked, but I did it in a different way, not as intensely, not as focused and not as much in the flow, letting the process unfold.  I do consult periodically, but my new life has gradually been expanding to fill the available space.  In the period since I left my job I’ve gone in new directions.  I did my first solo show, followed by many more and then several international shows.  I began to do public speaking about my artwork and family history and discovered that when you enjoy what you do, it is a natural next step to share it.  And when you are passionate about what you do, that enthusiasm is contagious.  I discovered the power of story and began exploring that further in my artwork and I started painting in series because a stand alone painting wasn’t enough to tell the stories I wanted to tell.  Before long I was creating multi-dimensional projects because the stories demanded it.  I began to partner with organizations and individuals and I accessed technology, creating web sites, video-editing and yes, blogging.  Often I traveled to find the stories I painted.  In recent years I’ve spent a total of four months overseas in eleven countries.  Had you told me five years ago that was what I would be doing, I might have not had so many swallow-hard moments, but I would have missed out on the joy of discovering each new opportunity on my path.

So I’ve learned that letting go of “good enough” while hard, is a necessary step to get to something that I may find more satisfying, whether in a painting or in my life.  And as for those paintings, I left my studio pleased with my newly re-created paintings.  We’ll see how they appear when I view them with fresh eyes today.