Taking the Time

I've been doing a lot of thinking. I'm often caught up in my thoughts, but something in particular really hit me the other day. I was listening to the radio and they were discussing the possibility of certain stolen famous paintings being returned. The guest mentioned that if they could recover a Vermeer, they'd be especially grateful as only 35 paintings of his exist.

I actually love Vermeer. I know I paint often wild and fantastical things, and I tend to lean towards a more impressionistic style at times, but I really love Baroque painting. In particular, it's these artists' use of light that makes me want to just sit and look at the painting for hours.

Anyway, what struck me is that only 35 paintings... 35!!! A master of his work, arguably poor (he died in debt), but only 35 paintings. He worked slowly, maybe three a year or so, but he left a beautiful collection as his legacy. There seems to be some sort of balance in this modern age between quality and quantity, and being a prolific painter seems to be important to success. But then, I suppose it's how you define success that matters. Vermeer wasn't wildly successful, but his 35 paintings he has left are arguably a big success as they are simply amazing.

I've mentioned it before, but when it comes to painting I am actually a slow painter. I can do some smaller faster ones, but anything bigger and detailed like my white rabbit (below) takes months. MONTHS! Months and months.

"Tea Time" 16x20, acrylic on stretched canvas

It's not the actual physical time of painting, either - although that takes a while too (if you've seen the video of me painting this, you see how much I spend on certain elements where other artists probably layer quickly and move on. I am not satisfied with that, and I really push the paint and my brushes hard.)

It's the thinking that goes on. When I paint, I don't have it all worked out exactly how I want it to look. I feel like the painting kind of grows on its own. I know how I want certain elements to look, certainly, but there are many aspects where I feel like I'm open to negotiation and let the paint take me where it wants to. That takes time. Sometimes it's sitting there staring at it. Other times it's thinking about it while doing something else. But no matter where that time is taken up, it still IS.

I've finished these recently:

"Bert & Emmy" 9x12 watercolor and acrylic on 140lbs hot-pressed 100% cotton paper.
Currently up for open auction on facebook.

"Timmy" 6x6 oil on a professional ampersand wooden panel.

I also created a special page for my monsters, Whimsical Misfits.

This is part of the Traveling Journal, where this book is going all over the place to different artists and we each get two pages to fill however we'd like. This is my contribution.

Those three paintings did not take as long, obviously, but they probably still took more time than most artists. They're also simple pieces without detailed backgrounds or surroundings.

My Queen of Hearts is taking a long time:

Just snapped this quickly with my phone, bad lighting, sorry

But I realize it's because I want to get it right. I want to make another really good painting that feels like you could walk into it. A window to another world. THAT is what I want to leave behind as my painting legacy.

A window to another world. And for me, those windows take time. I feel such guilt and pressure because I am so slow. I feel that if I was better at this, I would be painting faster. Because of that, I find little things I can paint to distract myself and feel like I have accomplished something, but it's a false sense. I feel accomplished when I finish these deeper paintings, and I'm starting to realize that's important.

Even if I only paint 30 really spectacular paintings in my lifetime, I would be prouder of that than 2,000 fast ones that lack what I want to put into them.

I'm not sure exactly where I am going with this, because I'm not going to let certain things go (like the misfit monsters, or my fairytale I'm going to make via a series of paintings), because I like them. But I realize that I need to allow myself to take the time to feel accomplished, and that perhaps being slow is just something I need to accept rather than run away from or feel bad about.

Plot Twist!

Isn't that just a fabulous sentiment? It's how I feel about my entire life, every aspect of it. Whether I'm trying to lose weight, or paint the rest of the frustrating Queen of Hearts, or move out of this state, this is something I know to be true.

It all starts with a day dream and a wish for change, for something more, doesn't it?

I realize I spend a lot of time in my head, in my own world, in my dreams. I think that is why I am a painter. These gardens for my Alice series, I've walked them a thousand times in my head. These creatures I create? Those, too, are my new friends.

Speaking of which, meet Frank!

Frank wishes he was a household brownie. He would love to have a house to call his own, where he could clean and bake wonderful things. Yet, every time he gets a chance to jump in, somehow that darn tail gets in his way! Dishes tumble and crack, pans of cookies go flying, laundry is dumped into the mud! Poor, poor Frank!

I loved pulling out my oils for these creatures (taken from the sketches I made earlier.) Frank was the second creature I painted in, Mandy is the first:

Mandy is afraid of the dark. She's also afraid of water. And bright lights, and... well, Mandy is afraid of most everything. Luckily, she has her best friend, Mr. Snooks (the teddy bear) and he gives her the courage to face things, because she's never alone. Just don't make any loud noises, OK?

Drawing creatures is really enjoyable to me. I'm thinking long and hard about whether they are another diversion from my strong focus on complicated and detailed fairy tale paintings, or if they are a legitimate side focus for me to continue developing. I'm leaning towards development, but I need to be careful, and I acknowledge that. For now, I'm painting the rest of them, and then seeing how I feel. I rather like each and every one of them, they each have a story!

Something to think about, I suppose. Something I never saw coming. I suppose you could call this a plot twist!