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. "In any field, it's a plus if you view criticism as potentially helpful advice rather than as a personal attack." "My rejection at the Salon brought an end to my hesitation [to settle in Paris] since after this failure I can no longer claim to cope... alas, that fatal rejection has virtually taken the bread out of my mouth." I have written about the importance of setting goals in the past, and I’ve also written about the artists ego, but what I don’t think I’ve written much about is the head games that can happen, especially those revolving around rejection. Who doesn’t remember the childhood experience of teams being picked for sports in school? Maybe you got chosen by the teacher to be the leader and pick the teams (the jury), but more often than not you were part of the pack jumping and dancing; thinking “pick me”, “pick me”! That horrifying feeling of standing there with all your classmates hoping beyond hope you’d be picked first. Then the sinking feeling as person after person is picked ahead of you. The self deprecating thoughts that start to enter your head. The feelings of worthlessness; of being unloved and not good enough. It’s heartbreaking to watch a child going through that. Those early rejections play into the experiences an artist faces today. Not being accepted, even into adulthood, hits at our very core of emotions and basic human need for love and acceptance. It is why, no matter how many successes an artist has, the rejections always sting at least a little, and tend to be remembered a lot longer than the successes. Following a successful year in 2014, I had my goals set early for 2015. Some of my goals related to things I wanted to make submissions to. As it happened those things all fell early in the year. It also happened I received rejection notices from all of them within the same week. Normally I take rejection in stride. I know it is one juries opinion at that time, and given a different week or a different set of jurist’s, the outcome will be different. I also know the rejection isn’t a reflection of my work overall but of the suitability of those few pieces for that one event. Sometimes it isn’t even a reflection of those pieces, but is a numbers games where only so many pieces can be accepted and other artists have submitted work the jurists feel is stronger; and that is perfectly acceptable. 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?
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. “Line is a rich metaphor for the artist. It denotes not only boundary, edge or contour, but is an agent for location, energy, and growth. It is literally movement and change – life itself.” Go ahead and invest in yourself. Find a strategy that works for you, and pursue that learning with both seriousness and frivolity, but always with purpose. Have a long term goal or idea of how you want paint and what you want to say. If you focus your energy into that you will likely find it will translate well at the canvas, and will be rewarded by those willing to invest in you! Addition: This was written several years ago. I myself hit that roadblock that I mentioned. Life turned upside down and I didn't have the time or energy to invest in myself having a plan and I truly didn't know where I wanted to go. I am still on the very edge of that roadblock, just starting to make a plan and investing in myself.
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". |
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