Previously Published February 2017

Everybody hates criticism, especially when it comes to something so personal as the artwork we've worked so hard to make. But without criticism an artist may have no incentive to improve. Many artists already possess a certain level of insecurity in regards to their own work. We are always our own worst critics, but when negative comments come from some unknown person we tend to let their words weigh heavy on our minds. For a lot of artists, this breaks them and completely destroys their confidence, but for others, it is just the ticket to taking an honest look at their own work and making the changes necessary to get to the next level.

This was demonstrated to me recently when I had some works critiqued. One of the comments I got back was that my landscapes lacked focus and meaning. Instead of getting upset and sulking around for weeks at a time, I took a good look at my work and tried to understand why the viewer had thought that. I could see in several paintings that the focal point was weak. I may have known what it was about, but it wasn't obvious to the outsider. I'd gotten too hung up on the references during the painting process, and forgot to use my own imagination and judgement to tell the story.

I decided to rework a couple of the paintings and see if I could 'fix' the problems. I no longer had the references images and worked from my imagination, letting go of accurate representation. It worked. I was able to strengthen the paintings and learned a thing or two in the process which will serve me well going forward.

One of the thoughts I'd had while reworking these paintings, is that I am not suited to alla prima painting. My works are always much stronger if I go back and rework areas when the paint has had a chance to settle, and the original reference image or idea has faded from my mind. I don't know what made me think finishing a painting on the same day was the way to go, because for me it isn't.

While it's always nice to have our work appreciated and lauded, never shy away from criticism for the important clues they can hold for advancing your work. Paul Arden said: "Do not seek praise. Seek criticism". I believe you will learn more from criticism than praise. Just make sure to consider the source before taking any negative  comments to heart.

A peer, or fellow artist, is a more valued source of criticism than your spouse or parent who has little art education. While the neighbour may be ready with an equal dose of good and bad comments, they are (unless experienced in art) responding to their own sensibilities, likes and dislikes, more so than the specific technical qualities of your work.
​

Even though I know all of this, sometimes I have falsely built up a whole story about the outcomes and benefits of being involved in one event or another, that I’ve placed too high of value on it. Because I’ve built it up so much in my mind, when the rejection comes it hits hard. When that happens I liken the mental and emotional process I go through, being much the same as a grieving person in letting go of their expectations and hopes. Do these thoughts seem familiar to you?

1.  Denial: This rejection makes absolutely no sense. My work was perfectly suited for this event. There must be some mistake. Maybe someone has made a mistake and sent me the wrong letter. Surely they will sort it out soon enough.
2. Anger: Who was the jury? Surely they don’t know anything about art. To heck with them. I don’t need to be a part of their silly little event. I’ll show them and be successful without them.
3. Bargaining: Your internal conversation starts asking “what if I’d written a better statement (asked a higher/lower price) (submitted different work) (spent more time on those paintings)”. Next time, I promise to do …….. if I get accepted.
4. Depression: This is the most dangerous stage of the process; and it is the state where many people go first and then get stuck. The voice starts saying “I’m not good enough”, “I should get a real job”, “I’m never going to make it as an artist”…… Often, this is when we quit painting altogether at least temporarily. We walk around in a funk, our confidence so shaken we dare not even try to show up at the easel.
   
   It is here where you need to reach down deep and rationalize the effect this one (or in my case three in one week!) rejections really have on your career. This is where you need to honestly look at the story you built up in your mind about being involved in this/these events. When you wake up tomorrow will you be more or less of an artist because of this? Sure it looks good on the resume to be accepted into some prestigious event, but is that event prestigious to your collectors, or is it only prestigious in your mind?
   
   Will the next person that buys your art care if you were in this exhibition or that? Probably not. What they will care about is that you are creating art from your soul, and it touches theirs.
5. Acceptance: Only when you realize you can still have a career without whatever you were rejected from, can you move on and get back to work. This is when we set new goals, reprioritize our work, and take an honest look at where we’re at and what we need to do to reach that next level. This is where we get our confidence back. We form new ideas, work to improve our skills, and forge on with a stronger determination and resolve not to let future rejections shake us up so much. Until the next time…... 

​It is easy to say “do not take rejection personally”; but it is personal. It means you have tried. The easier saying is “do not take rejection to heart”. Rejection notices means you are taking risks. You are putting yourself out there. You are TRYING! Keep trying; and when success comes celebrate it for all its worth!

​Maybe for someone starting out the goal is “I want to learn to paint”. So the student goes out and buys paints, canvas, and brushes and begins to paint. But their goal is too broad and general, and they’ve failed to invest in themselves by building a solid foundation first. They haven’t identified where they want to go in their own work, or how they can get there.

For me, my investment in self takes many forms. There are the books – not technique based books though – those get put aside and forgotten quicker than yesterday’s failed canvas. But books about ideas, theories, and the thought processes of other artists. There are a few workshops. All carefully vetted to make sure it meets with my long (or short) term goals. I have a short list of artists I want to study with and I don’t sign up for a workshop just because it’s offered, but because it matches my goals. If you take every workshop ever offered all these different styles and techniques end up on your canvas, with the result that your work may lack focus and intent.

Not every investment is so serious. The biggest investment is a commitment to daily practice and play. For this I turn to the sketchbook. I occasionally look for fun workshops or lessons that are totally unrelated to the work I do on canvas, such as children's illustration. This is at once frivolous, but there is a more serious underside to this work. It is exercising the visual muscles – kind of like yoga for the hand and eye. One of the common threads I have identified in almost every contemporary artist I admire is that they came to painting through a career in illustration first. Every time I find a new artist I love their bio invariably says “illustrator”.
​

Informal study (or even a formal study if one was so inclined) into an unrelated style or discipline offers an artist the opportunity to learn a different way of expressing yourself visually. This kind of no pressure play can lead to surprise discoveries which can be used in your more formal work, and opens doors for your own unique voice of personal expression. 

My artistic ‘yoga’ practice had taken the form of daily portrait doodles for most of the year in 2016. Why the human face when I’m focused on landscape paintings? The face offers the opportunity to easily judge accuracy and allows me to explore a variety of methods for creative expression. In this exercise I was not looking to produce laboured or artistic drawings. I know I can do good charcoal drawings of people. What I wanted was quick sketches to capture an expression, emotion, or characteristic of a person. My parameters were that a) they had to be quick b) small – just a few inches c) at least one a day. But I usually ended up doing several a day. I drew faces from a variety of sources; a couple of online portrait groups, vintage mugshots (my favourites), myself, family…. I drew happy faces, sad faces, goofy faces, young faces, old faces…. Some were good, some were downright horrible.

The investment of time and energy doesn’t really offer a clear progression of improved ability. That’s not the goal of this type of exercise. It’s to explore expression and to find out what factors contribute to likeness in an illustrative sketch or caricature. It also continues my exploration of the power of line. This year I am focusing my illustration and sketches more on the landscape and figure, working out ideas for expressing concepts and abstraction within a representational realm. It is a little more focused and serious than the portrait sketches of last year, but still offers some frivolity in that I can explore different ideas, styles, and methods of mark making within a small format that I can (hopefully) transform into poetry on canvas. 
​

The artist's ego is a tricky thing. It tends to live at either end of the spectrum between "my work is garbage" or "my work is brilliant" - often it's both at the same time. It's no wonder artist's are often portrayed as flamboyant, flaky, and just a little bit crazy. 

While in the process of building this website, I was combing through some older works. Works like "Lead Thee Weeping" and "Song Sparrow" which have long since left the studio. I didn't have the confidence back then to know these were really good paintings. I kept working to create better paintings, taking the advice of many different peers, which steered my works towards different styles. More control, better or more accurate representation of the subject. Better composition. On and on....... But in my quest for betterment, I lost my voice. I lost the quality that made these paintings special. 

I look at these paintings, and many of my other earlier works today, and wonder what the heck I was thinking, and why I didn't have the confidence to just stay the course in this more impressionistic, or expressive, style. I love these early works now and wish I could paint like that today. 

The opposite is also true though. I look at some of my work that I thought was brilliant at the time, and wonder what the heck I was thinking. Some of those works are truly cringe worthy. So now, when I've finished a painting which I think I've done a really good job with, I wonder if it's just my artist ego. Is it truly a good painting? Why is it good? Maybe it isn't. I second guess and overthink my thoughts.

I hear so many artists expressing the same things, so I know this must be a common phenomenon within the arts world. I hear very accomplished artists, who I admire, express doubt in their own work. It's no wonder though. We artists can do a dozen really good paintings, and then the turkeys come out one after another, and we feel like somehow, overnight, we've completely lost our ability to paint. 

I think part of the lack of confidence in ones art stems from outside influences. How often do we observe ugly work being given high praise, and beautiful work being totally ignored? Family and friends will (usually) always like what you do, even if it isn't very good. Art instructors often offer lots of praise and encouragement rather than kind honesty, so it is very hard to have an unbiased, outside opinion of your work. How do we know if our ego is being over or under confidence? How do we know when it's telling us the truth? Does it even matter?

I have reposted an old blog post written at the time I made "A Dream Of Joy And Sadness".  See the previous post "Telling Stories".