I Need a Method

And a quiet studio sale

The day began with a frantic studio cleanup. I’d left a huge mess the previous evening. To my horror, I saw the pile of drawings and paintings grow even more, the studio even more crowded. My Ikea cart overflowing with palettes, and my sketchbooks no longer towering solidly on my shelves. Any minute they would tumble down.

Each day I tell myself it’s time to review the work and make decisions. What stays, what gets photographed and what goes to the trash but it seems like I can’t do anything else but sit down and make more.

I know I’m stuck in the generating stage and never move past it. Sometimes I go back to the exploration stage when I see something I want to learn but usually, I just make more stuff.

It shouldn’t bother me. I know. Having experienced a block earlier I prefer to be in a state of compulsive making than an empty vessel but I keep wondering what hides behind this compulsion.

I suspect it’s scarcity thinking, or fear of what I will find if I stop (none of it is good, there is still improvement to be made, and I’ll never get anywhere with this). I keep making to see if I will arrive at the end goal which is still unclear.

In the evenings after I have no more light in the studio, I move to my couch and keep at it on the iPad. I get angry because I keep drawing the same things over and over.

What is wrong with that?

When I take a peek at other working artists, I see they create the same things over and over with slight variations but I find it boring in my work.

It shouldn’t be a surprise though, the first drawing on the first sketchbook I ever made was a woman’s face. Such a long time ago. I followed one of those how-to-draw-a-head tutorials. Then I kept drawing female figures inspired by fashion, from life, from Pinterest.

Then I settled for a while on drawing from imagination.

This is where I’ve lived for the past three years, where I seem to be happy-ish.

The work never seems finished though. I move from one thing to the next and say: OK this is it. Then I move on to the iPad and say to myself: gah… I should only draw on the iPad and save myself all the money, mess and anguish until I return to my studio.

Are you exhausted by reading this yet?

I fantasize about spreading my work around a big space and finding the pattern once and for all. Maybe it will never happen. Maybe I’m doomed to run and never stop.

Maybe I need a method.