Cranberry Lake Ice / Slump Resistance

Aha! Look at this! A painting!

It’s been a while, right? Yes, I detoured into strange dungeons for a time drawing trees in my sketchbooks, but I’m back to painting once again and there’s things to be said about it.

Before I do that, however, let’s have a look at the thing I painted last.

Cranberry Lake

This was something I put together over the course of a week back in the Winter – I can’t remember exactly when. I had been wandering around the edge of Cranberry lake one afternoon and saw children skating and playing hockey on it under the crown of a fiery hillside. An old rowboat stood poised on the shore as though ready to be launched by ghostly fishermen onto the ice, while across the way, purple and blue shade had begun to creep up out of the lake and over the houses like a tide.

I snapped a few reference photos and committed the rest to memory, then walked back to my studio to get started.

This one was a big struggle to work on, and to my eye, I can see the scratches of unnecessarily added labour all over it. Beset with more equipment failures, I had to go further than usual for each brush-stroke. I had to wait constantly for the software to catch up on every move, and often had to stop to chase down and eliminate unintended lines generated from skipping across the screen like a needle on a record. Reboots and battery failures at random intervals set me hours behind when they rolled through.

I think because of the technical challenges presented by this piece, I was left feeling like it was a bit of a mess when I was done. I didn’t like it, and because I didn’t like it, I sort of pushed it into the digital equivalent of the attic and hadn’t given it so much as a glance since.

I was also kind of terrified that I might be facing a final equipment failure which might take me out of painting altogether for months. These glitches were getting more frequent, and I could tell my operation was hanging by a thread.

The value of this painting and everything associated with it was steadily decreasing in my mind the longer I didn’t look at it, and the longer I put that off, the longer I put off wanting to try painting another landscape.

Or anything, come to think of it.

Why bother, right? Fighting with a dying computer to produce an ugly painting which might also result in losing my ability to paint at all? And Winter sucks and blahblahblahblahself-loathingblaaahhh.

Oh yes, the Winter had me now. All solitude, self doubt, and elaborate procrastination spirals piled onto the melancholy compost with the rest. Expenses carried on being expenses, but there were no art sales for Christmas after I went deep out of pocket for stock; my paintings weren’t generating much interest; and my funding was just coming to an end.

These are not conditions I historically tend to thrive under. I don’t think anyone does.

Welcome to the bottom curve of the slump; where all thy dread chickens come home to roost.

Spin ahead a few months, and I’ve climbed out and picked up my brush once again (with a nicely filled sketchbook of new, original work to boot). I’ve given this icy painting a second look, and it is not at all the boring outhouse deposit I thought it was. It’s messy, sure – but in a fun way; like weeds that look like flowers anyway. I’ve painted a new landscape since, and I feel confident in my abilities and where I’m going next with my projects – something unimaginable to myself a few months ago.

Which brings me to why I chose to write about it. This was a pretty major slump, and I really, reaaaallly don’t want to fall into it again. Now that it’s passed, I’ll be better prepared to react to the conditions that might cause another.  There’s reefs here worth marking down on the chart; for myself and for anyone else in the pursuit of making stuff. If you’re feeling stuck, blocked, or otherwise underwater, give these a try:

Read the signs: If you’re feeling defeated in your pursuit, have a look around at your circumstances and see what little adjustments you can make.

A sense of being shipwrecked might just due in part to your environment – physically, mentally, and socially. If Winter’s closing in, make sure you’re getting the nutrition, light, and positive social contact you need to balance out the difference. Get out in public spaces. Make sure you’re sleeping well and keeping hours that maximize daylight. Don’t let the household clutter of Winter gather too deep.

It’s the little things, and they add up in both directions.

Money isn’t everything (even though it kind of is): Unless you’re a retiree or have some kind of patron, you’re likely working directly toward a financial goal, or at least keeping a weather-eye on money with your creative pursuit.

While it’s important to pay your bills however you can, it’s not absolutely everything.

I mean it is. But it isn’t.

In times when the work isn’t there, make sure you are. Stay busy. Stay active. Stay loud. Keep making improvements to your craft and keep producing work. Do it in front of other people and make sure they see you do it.

If you bail out on making new things, you’ll only get rusty, lose confidence, and ultimately take yourself out of the spotlight.

Can’t get hired? Hire yourself.

No really. Go ahead and write yourself a contract to produce that dream idea you’ve been keeping on the back-burner. You can’t just spend your day looking for work and being mad and yourself that you can’t find it. It’s bad for you.

Just do that for part of the day, then go to work for yourself.

Even if you’re self employed with playing cards and Japanese pocket change (I paid myself with the King of Diamonds and a 500 yen piece) you’re still getting better at what you do, your portfolio is increasing, and you’re giving someone who may love your work the opportunity to find you.

Looking back over a month, you’ll feel much happier and more accomplished for working on that pet project during the hours you might otherwise have spent banging your head against the wall. Where there might have been a string of solid defeats, you can carve out your own victories and rise a little higher each time.

Get a second opinion: You may think you’ve got it all figured out. You know your situation. You know your habits, your mind, the particular quirks of your process. You’re the expert, right? You know it all, and you’re certain that this is how it is, and how it must be.

Yeah, no. Not even.

You might pride yourself on keeping a healthy, balanced view of the world and of yourself, but that’s something that’s going to be challenged with some regularity – particularly in stressful times. It might erode quicker than you think when adversity’s been hanging around long enough.

If you find yourself full of self doubt and anxiety about your situation, your work, or who you are, your opinion is probably already compromised. Get an outside view from people you trust. Chances are, half the worries circling over your head will be shot right out of the sky, freeing up room for the positive activity you want to get back to. If you leave it only to yourself – particularly when you’re not at your best – you’ll end up with only the most cynical, limited, and prejudiced version of the truth.

Nobody has ever agreed with Eeyore except Eeyore.

Analysis is good; action is better: Once you’ve got your second opinions and you’ve straightened out all the tendrils of the problem, the next part is doing something about it. The trouble is that this can be an incredibly difficult thing to do if you’ve been wrestling with it for a while. You might feel burnt out, or fear that you’ve become dull or incapable.

The solution that I’ve found in these instances is to set up a practice of something related to your craft; one that involves being in a particular place outside of your usual routine and includes a specific, limited set of supplies. A sketchbook in at the beach, say, or a pad of writing paper in the garden. Once you’ve put yourself bodily in the space you’ve set out with the supplies you’ve brought, you might find it much easier to dip your toe back into the water than you think.

I mean, you’re already there. Just inches away.

Put yourself there without any expectation and eventually, you’ll start to associate that place and those tools with a positive, productive task. Over time, these practices become habits that stay with you regardless of what your head-space is. Repeated use brings confidence and diminishes fear regardless of the size of the thing you’re doing. You might find paintings less terrifying, for example, if you keep drawing weird trees in your sketchbook every day.

 

The conditions that produce a bad slump time in dump town are common and easy to see coming. It’s when they start hunting in packs over the winter that you’ve got to watch out. Once they pile on together, they’re harder than ever to shake.

Take them on one at a time, and go on the offensive. Go look at the work you’re proud of; go see another human from time to time (my apologies if you’re not human – go see a wolf or an eel); go take a long, long walk; keep your media diet positive (skip the Smiths and cable news); and stay busy doing the next thing – even if it’s tinier than anything you’ve ever done.

Make it small and simple. Stay busy with it.

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Flowers in my Books

Much of my recent sketchbook work has been done whilst out at the neighbourhood diner, or hanging out with friends at their house in the midst of pre-sale, pre-travel renovations (something you can read more about over here at Jill’s travel blog).

At least two of these drawing sessions took place in their epic gardenscape since the days have grown longer and warmer. Rather than turning inward, I tried to capture what I saw in front of me using a limited palette of coloured pencils.

blueberries

The strange orange/blue/green frosting of unripe blueberries.

Instead of finding the specific colour I’m looking for, I dash straight at it with the building blocks of that colour; the primaries that build others. I don’t even think as I’m doing it. It’s autonomic.

I haven’t done much in the way of major paintings since diving into my sketchbooks, but I’m confident that my next painted work will carry the strengths I’ve discovered in this medium.

Pot

These are original works on large sketchbook paper, suitable for framing and display should the urge strike you to buy one. In lieu of that, if you enjoy reading my writes and seeing my scratchings, feel free to throw me a coin or two. My hat’s just over there.

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Whatever More

Aaaaand here’s another batch of these unholy trees or rocks or candies or whatever they are.

trees30

After months of what seemed like a hopeless, Pyrrhic war with depression and anxiety, I snapped completely out of it yesterday and I can’t explain why. Nothing had changed in my life in any positive way – I just wasn’t under water anymore. I could breathe again.

The only thing of note that actually happened yesterday was that my seasonal allergies finally kicked in. That’s hardly a trigger for positive, upward motion is it?

And yet there it is, and here I am.

It’s like having spent months locked in the darkest, hottest, most boring room you can imagine; and then *boot*, you’re outdoors in the breeze again with the world moving like a carnival around you.

A jug of cold water instead of warm vinegar. A skull made of open windows and not smoked iron.

Today I’m left scratching my head, wondering what happened.

 

In the hour of it happening, my mind was once again flooded with all the projects I wanted to get back to, and a sort of second-chance kind of gratitude that I could now remember what it was like to be a person again.

It’s frustrating in that whilst in that state of depression, you can’t even comprehend happiness, joy, or anything beyond the oven-like intensity of it. Now that I’m out again (at least for a day) I can see horizons I’d forgotten existed.

I’m inspired again. My blindfolds are shed and ankles cut loose from the church-bell that I left somewhere under the waves.

I’m not one to look gift horses in the mouth, so I’ve been busy all day and night making plans, smelling roses, and sighing heavy sighs of relief. Like a fugitive, I’ve been running to put distance between myself and whatever wants to throw me back in.

 

Trees 34

Meanwhile, my sketchbooks continue to fill up with this tree-like nonsense.

I’ll keep this journal of mine updated as plans and art continue to pour out. In the mean-time, I’m looking forward to whatever day I find tomorrow.

Yin-Yang

The other night I dreamt I was on a moon that orbited not the planet, but the lake near my house. I could see everything from up there, but I myself could not be seen or heard – except in notes I made from paper airplanes. They had to be thrown hard enough to curve along the surface of the moon two or three times in full orbit to make escape velocity.

From there, who knows where they landed.

trees29

Here’s another exploration of organic shapes, lines, and colour. This time lighter balances against darker – not as intrinsic elements, but as shades of the same thing.

 

Wooden

Three pencils, a blank sheet of paper; my hands and mind. This is what comes about in the span of a pot of coffee.

trees28

It kind of feels like exploration – which is good for me. I’ve often felt quite bound to material subjects when I paint; trying to capture a likeness to something already known. This isn’t that.

Any resemblance to persons living or dead is purely coincidental.

Sketchdrop: More or Less

I’m still exploring the organic, maze-like surfaces of trees – and in the process I’ve gone further in the direction of abstraction.

trees 23

In one case, I tried turning stumps into moons. There was something about the way the knots and layers of bark were coming together that reminded me of craters.

Some of these drawings were done in a group setting with friends. Others done while swilling coffee at the neighbourhood diner.

Oh, and here’s a bonus drawing of Rodin’s great sculpture in red pencil. As perhaps my last post might explain, I’ve been lost in thought, and this seemed – at the time – to be the best way to express heat and the muscular struggle and weight of thought without actually admitting anything.

I’ve really got to stop being so oblique. It’s one of my most frustrating qualities.

The collection of these grows steadily, and again, I find myself with the material for a legitimate show in the works. Once I have a venue, I’ll put them on display and make them available for sale.

Vancouver Island from Willingdon Beach

If the title and the image don’t speak for themselves on this one, I don’t think I can help you. That said, this is a blog – not twitter or instagram, so I feel compelled to put in a paragraph or two.

What do I have to say for myself?

Beach

I’m not feeling very well these days. I have to admit, though I’ve struggled with depression and anxiety for most of my life, these last few months have been much heavier and harder than I’m used to.

At first I thought it was the Winter, but that’s well over – and though my employment hasn’t been steady lately, I’ve managed to make it through this year so far. That said, each month feels like a gamble now – and I’m getting used to living with less and less.

I don’t like that I’m getting used to it.

I’d fight battles and win them, but now they’re coming up as draws; and though battles are being won, I think I’m losing the war here. It’s dawning on me now that I’ve spent so many of my years fighting  that I’ve missed out on a great many other things in life while I was busy surviving behind a shield.

Today I think I won something. I woke up at the bottom of the ocean, but I stood up and went out into the sunlit forest, down through the trails to the beach and came back with the above drawing.

I’ve also admitted all of this in public air; which feels shameful even as I write it. It’s still a win.

What perhaps were funny quirks in my twenties are now threatening to strangle me right out in my thirties. I don’t know how help is sought, but I’m working myself up to seek it out now. Meanwhile, I’ll keep drawing, painting, writing, and trying to make an honest dollar out of all of it somehow.

Next time I won’t be so maudlin. Unless I am; but if I am, I’m going to make art out of it.

How?

There are a great many metaphors and images that I’ve collected over time in attempts to describe what this feels like. I’ve thought about drawing them one by one until I have enough to fill a book.

Meanwhile, though, I’ve got this island mountainscape. It took the scorch out of my brain for a couple of hours to draw it, and soon, I’ll return to bigger, more elaborate works.