The Painting in My Head vs. The Finished Product
Last evening, I sat down to create "The Way The World Is."
An ambitious title, well-suited to a painting meant to express a deep truth I've come to learn.
But what the painting started as- a vision in my brain, a day or two prior- bares vague resemblance to the finished, titled piece that was created.
Why is this?
Is it because I'm not a good artist and cannot replicate? Or is it something else?
It's something else.
Along the way from the original idea to the finished piece, each painting of mine undergoes a creative process where more ideas spring to mind. With each brushstroke comes another idea for a different one, one that wasn't accounted for in my original vision of the piece.
Often, the original vision that comes to mind for a painting is very simple. Typically it's too simple for my personal liking, but I embark upon the journey of creating it nonetheless and after seeing what happens next a few times, have come to entirely trust this process. I have seen, time and time again, something begin as an elementary idea in my mind transform into a complex and eye-catching piece, that is, in its own way, somehow simple.
And I do not criticize the original vision, because if I did that, I would never start it.
The original vision for the piece is but the first idea for the piece. More ideas follow in a steady stream once I have a paintbrush in-hand, as the true vision begins to crystallize on my canvas.
Being an artist is a lot like being an archaeologist- interestingly, another career that I wanted to pursue as a child. It's digging away at a piece that you don't know exists. When a vision for a painting strikes, it's as though I'm digging in the sand and suddenly my brush hits something. You continue digging- and painting- in order to discover what the rest of your find has in store.
Another painting that this process was very evident in was "Juice." "Juice" was one that was inspired by the man I love. (LINK TO PREVIOUS BLOG)
What began as a simple idea for a single orange ball on a solid black background became something else entirely and way better than what my mind could have ever dreamt up.
This is a profound process in art and I know of two of my favorite artists who have explained this very same process with accuracy, Anselm Kiefer and Pablo Picasso.
I was a relatively new artist when I discovered these snippets by two of my heroes. I took both of them as extreme validation and reassurance that I was on the right path.
Surely, if my process unknowingly mirrored the greats, I wasn't far off from where I should be.
Not that art should ever be a basis of comparison. It's not for that. It's for the simple validation that the methods and processes that I was employing to execute my art were, without knowing it, similar in fashion to those whose art I have admired most in my life.
I don't count anything a coincidence, and I don't think I'd be an impactful artist if I did.
Learning that other great artists' works underwent this same transformation from the "original" paintings in their heads to the "finished" ones hung on walls was a vote cast for me. I took it as a nod from the Universe.
"Keep going."
So if you are an artist who is reading this and you are questioning (or even slightly curious) if what you are doing is "right" when you produce something that is 99% foreign to what you set out to create, I have no answer for you except: you are in relatively good company.
And keep going.
TRISHA WILES