At what point do you just give up on a thing and admit defeat?
If you’re me, the answer is not until you’ve beaten it to death with a club, shaken it out and administered morphine. Then you place it your driveway and run over it with your car. Several times. After giving it mouth to mouth, you pour yourself some wine, relax a bit, and go light it on fire. Upon waiting a week or so for it to cool off, you put it back on the easel, grab a brush or any other weapon of choice and start all over again.
It’s not that I have a problem with failure. I am no stranger to failure and indeed, have learned to embrace it as my friend and my mentor; had I succeeded more often, I would probably not be the happy idiot that friends and loved ones have come to know and tolerate. Certainly, I would not have nearly as much time on my hands to indulge in such pastimes as painting and blogging. And blogging about painting. And whining about blogging. And so on.
But this one painting is giving me headaches, and has been doing so for months. I’ve given up on projects in the past, albeit reluctantly, but by god I just can’t seem to let go here. Until today. Today I painted over large swatches of real estate, eliminated some extraneous debris, changed colors and added metaphor. And still no joy. It is much improved, I think, but I know in my heart that while the operation was a success, the patient died.
But don’t cry for me, Argentina. It felt good to be painting again. I will take these lessons learned, and live to fail another canvas. The beauty is in the process. The canvas is just a souvenir. And even then, only occasionally.
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7 comments:
You're scaring me. I loved the painting that I think is the topic of this post. I loved the colors too! Can I come sift the ashes out of the driveway? I'm thankful I resqued the one I did. You're unmerciful. ;-)
Ohhhh the disappointment.
The funny thing is...now not only have you possibly painted something that will more than likely lift somebody up and inspire them...but you also blogged about it in such a way that you made me laugh and adore you that much more.
And if it was just for that alone, it was worth it and you succeeded more than you know. xo
Robbie's comment prefaces mine perfectly...
I was going to say that, as a writer, I often produce work that I think is dull or mediocre, only to have someone tell me it is some of my best work. And then there are times when something that I love falls absolulutely flat with whatever audience it's presented to. I wondered if things happened that way with painting, too. Apparently, they do. And, if that's the case, should something that someone likes ever be destroyed?
What a shame to have this failure haunting you in the OC when it could be sent far away...say, to Massachusetts...for a small (reimbursable) fee.
Aw gee, Gi. I love what everyone said, but especially what the tiny dancer said cause it's what I would have said had I been feeling wordy-like.
::giggle::
Gigi, that`s beautifully written.
V
A Painter AND a Poet?!?
I am impressed!
xxoo, Albert
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