I’ve been working on a body of work that I will display in my very first art show this August. I’ve done over a dozen practice sketches that I’ve been mostly happy with…and then about a month ago I started my first piece. It’s a lot larger than what I’m used to working on and I realized today that the reason why I’ve been hating on it recently has to do with the change of perspective I have when I’m sitting Infront of this large piece and not having the entire surface right under my nose. Why that didn’t occur to me before is…well…puzzling.
Being that it is not only my first show, but that my intention is to also try to get it published as a book, and to top it off that I have people counting on me to portray them as they hope to be portrayed….shit that’s a lot of pressure! Two words come to mind: performance anxiety. I’ve worked on this one piece approximately twelve or so hours. My fingers have been gentle and careful and delicate which created something that was soft and subtle and light. Except that’s not who I am. That’s not what my show will be about. That’s not what I hope to portray and it’s not overly pleasing to my artistic taste.
I’ve been so afraid of ruining this piece that I totally made a piece of shit. Another thing I learned today. And so without scrapping it, I just started manipulating it into how I enjoy creating and it transformed into something I will be proud to display.
I read a quote on Facebook today that said something like; “when you question what you’re doing try to remember what you felt when you began.”Brilliant.
I’m terrified of this show, of my lack of talent and ability, of my amateur hand…but even more so I’m terrified to quit. Terrified to squash my drive. To stop before I get to the finish line. I’d prefer to appear crazy. I’d prefer to seem like I’m aiming too high, dreaming too big than to not dream at all.
One done. Eleven more to go.