Sitting on a pile

1.Possible, 2.Borderline, 3.Impossible. Thanks, Robert. Consolidating my slough of unfinished works into these 3 categories will improve matters greatly.

Once something has been in the stalled pile for a year I just overpaint it and, more often than not, the new piece is a quick seller. It seems that when I overpaint I am able to be more carefree about the canvas (it can only be improved) and the new image is fresh and lively. The bits of peeking colour from the previous image add interest.

I found one solution to being a “gunna” (gunna do it) — I found that I knew other gunnas who positively love and adore to be talking about their complex selves and why they are like that (you would think all that self analysis would be harder work than actually doing something), and, then I found out I am much much more positive and productive if I see less/none of them. Well, it works for me.

I paint in watercolours, oils and now also acrylics, usually producing some 50-60 paintings a year, of which 25-35 sell. To limit inventory creep I revisit older work and decide (1) rework it, if possible, (2) donate it to charity or as presents, or (3) destroy it. The process requires honest self-appraisal and decision-making as to the possibilities of correction, but is very beneficial in clearing out cobwebs and old lemons. Cheers!

This is of great help to me robert. I now give myself permission to get rid of those projects that are not going anywhere.they have dragged my self confidence down for too long.when i get this accomplished i envision a friendlier atmosphere. Looking forward rather than back is going to feel good. It amazes me how many topics you bbring to your readers. Thank you.

My problem seems to be a loss of the challenge presented by the initial concept. Each painting presents its own unique problems and challenges. It’s fun engaging these problems and overcoming them. Then, scratch my head, I lose interest and start looking around for another project. These unfinished ones stand in the corner casting a beadie eye at me and call, “Finish me, finish me.” And I with guilty heart say my favourite prayer, “Tomorrow.”

Oh my gosh, this post was reading my mind! I too enjoy the early stages of a painting and then often feel stifled before I finish. I am either at a loss to know how to correct a “dud”, or intimidated by the strength of a project which is going well, with a fear of ruining it. It is some comfort to learn that I am not alone. I recently painted over the top of a dud with a new solid ground and it felt very good.

Apparently I am in a minority. I have only not finished exactly two paintings. I think I didn’t finish those two because they were both quite complex and felt overwhelming at the time. One I am bored with and will re-prime. The other… hmmm… I think it might have potential! :) Thanks, Robert, for giving me the inspiration to reconsider that old unfinished painting and give it another look!

Dear Robert, I am always excited about starting a new painting. Well, excited and there is the usual anxiety about it as well. As I stare across a blank canvas, knowing the monumental task at hand, I wonder if I have one more painting in me. As I near completion, another feeling takes over. While there is sheer exhilaration, there is an impatient part of me that just wants the piece done. Done so I can hang it on the wall, done so that it will be part of a new collection I am showing, done so that people can come see it and there can be some exchange and finally, done so that it can potentially sell. Artists need to hone their craft for knowing when a piece is finished. Having a studio full of unfinished canvases and an artist running around like a weather vane starting yet another piece is really unsettling. There is fear in an artist who’s behaviour patterns like this. We are all trying to communicate something in our art. But when everything is unfinished it strikes me the artist doesn’t really want anyone to know what they are thinking. I would say to this artist, before you put a dab of paint on yet another canvas, go back and finish five older pieces. Then, at least, they will know what it is to finish something.

I can relate to Coco’s comments — I also have at least eight unfinished (but as having some potential!) paintings hanging on my studio walls. My hangup with finishing them is the feeling of wading through piles of chores that take priority in my ‘free time’ as a working mother as well as stuff piled up in my studio and around the house that keeps me from reaching the painting on my easel. Mostly figuratively speaking though. As cluttered as my studio can be, it is still a conscious choice for me to do chores before painting. A solution? To keep my studio ready and inviting so that the urge to paint doesn’t pass as I enter the studio and see what weed whacking I must do to pick up my brush… Then I feel my paintings will stand a much better chance to be finished.

Recently went to a talk by Robert Bateman in which he talked about his own process and made the following points. His best painting is always the one he hasn’t painted yet. He is always excited to start a painting and then gets bogged down and discouraged so he starts another one and is excited again until the same thing happens, so the process continues until he has about five going and then the first one doesn’t look so bad and he goes back and finishes it. He does admit that he does have some that have been sitting unfinished for a few years.

Life IS the yellow brick road. It beats OZ (the alternative). If canvas or watercolor paper is a mess, gesso over it and do another. Maybe painting faster will help getting things done.

I also have many unfinished paintings and don’t even know where to begin. I’m sole caretaker to my husband and since I’m at home most of the time, one would think that I could become more inspired to paint, but I’m at a standstill not ever knowing what will happen to my husband. Any suggestions.

I think the idea of sorting unfinished or old abandoned works is very wise. I did that last winter and have just began painting over works that I no longer want the world to see. One of the things that I do is to photograph the paintings prior to repainting over them. I haven’t been asked yet, but I figure that later I can show the photo of the covered painting to whomever purchases the new painting. One of my artist friends recently sold a painting that she had removed from the stretchers and flipped so that it became the back of a new painting. She told the woman who purchased the painting, that she was actually getting two paintings in one. I don’t know if that helped her to sell the piece, but I thought it was a pretty good idea, at least for those works that an artist doesn’t mind having someone see.

What about people like me who are often a poor starter but strong finisher! I often procrastinate and fluff around so much, wasting valuable time, then finish a painting really strongly, and recently outdid myself with a tight deadline finishing two paintings in a 23 hour day, which just about killed me! Both sold immediately — but the paintings I labour/persevere with, can take years to sell — or they get taken out of their frame, covered (the pastels) and put in a drawer. Or even put under the garden hose and scrubbed off — just one or two…. Thanks for all the great info and dialogue, it’s much appreciated and very much food for thought. I should just get on with it and stop pussy-footing what I know needs to be done, you have reminded me to re-read my Stephen Pressfield book.

I couldn’t have put it better myself. It sounded like it came right out of my head and I’m not so articulate.

I am an avid recycler and try to find a new use for everything. I struggle with the number of old canvases in my basement that will never make it to the finished state (nor should they). Many of my artist friends would love to find out what to do with them. If they were sanded and re-primed (with what?), where would they potentially go? Senior Centers, Boys and Girls Club, schools?

Today’s letter was right on the mark! Just what I needed. Thank you so much. I did clean and organize last week and made one pile, I was thinking I would break that down into two, but your idea of three piles sounds exciting and then the first pile would be an achievable goal, perhaps. Now what can be said for those big projects that are also sitting there staring me in the face–my method and style have changed so much since they were originally theorized, that alone should shake me up enough to get me started.

Sometimes you aren’t ready as an artist to solve the problems a particular painting presents. I’ve had a couple that two years later I could look at and say aha!, having learned from other paintings. As well as distancing myself emotional from areas I needed to keep!”

Sometimes I have a lot of fun doing a warm-up painting over a discarded picture, WITHOUT re-priming. Interesting brain exercise, focusing on what I want and ignoring the under-painting noise… and sometimes get something REALLY interesting!

As someone once observed; the single most important piece of equipment in a darkroom is a waste paper basket!

When I am not sure if a painting is done or not and don’t know what to do I take it is the living room and place it on the mantle (size depending) then I live with it. After about 4 days it is obvious what needs to be done and I’m motivated to finish it. What is also lovely out of my studio sometimes the painting will just say its finished!

Think of Bonnard who was famous (infamous?) for going into galleries where his paintings were exhibited and dabbing at them with a brush and a bit of pigment. When I was in art school, we called this “Bonnarding around”.

If artists look into their souls and are honest with themselves they will notice a pattern which crosses over into daily life. If we have trouble with finishing our artwork, it’s a sure bet we do the same in life. Art cannot be separated from who we are. Who we are in inherent in what we do. Many of my works are finished in one sitting. This doesn’t necessarily mean they are great works or even works that will see the light of day but they are finished. Finishing one work allows me to move forward. Art is more about feeling and the moment. Art is emotion. We feel and express today what is happening. Putting things off in your life only means these things will have to be revisited and finished some time in the future. Doing this leaves holes in your development. Tomorrow is for procrastinators. Look to see if this is a pattern in your daily life first before you can think of finish in your artwork. Fix the one and the other will follow.

Someone once said about writing that one doesn’t finish, one abandons it. Also, I suspect, true of much art. I have a Lazarus Drawer where I keep pieces that I know will one day be good but need a deep sleep for awhile. If I am stuck for a new piece I sometimes open the Lazarus Drawer and resurrect a good piece that had just been waiting patiently for me to get my act together.

I try not to look at the stacks of unresolved paintings around my studio. It’s a corner I clean around — no telling what’s hidden back there. When the stack gets overwhelming or I have someone coming to see work, I get them out, one by one and take my electric finishing sander out and give them a thorough going-over. Often times, surprises emerge and as soon as the imagination is allowed to take charge, they are dusted-off, the paints come out and a new piece emerges. It’s always worth a try. If they are stretched, I remove the canvas to sand. If nothing emerges worth saving, the stretcher is ready for new canvas.

The prescription you offer around unfinished art is just fine, but few artists have that kind of luxury. We have certain addictive habits like eating. And we are sufficiently modest to want to wear clothing. As acquisitions editor of a publishing company for many years, I was often asked by aspiring writers, “How do you get over writer’s block?” My prescription is simple. Sit down and write. And write. Even if what you write is utter drivel, keep writing. Eventually the muse will kick in. Great art seldom springs full-blown from the artists creativity. Most great art is the result of plain, old-fashioned, odorous sweat. I know that doesn’t apply to all artists. Each of us is an individual. But the malaise affecting many (perhaps most) aspiring artists of every genre, is procrastination and sloth.

You received some excellent advice from Robert. May I suggest a final method of disposal. Have an incineration party. Give your friends the opportunity to exercise their critical eye about what is to be thrown away and what they’d like to keep. As for you, I suggest you keep on painting. The world needs a lot of firewood.

I listened this morning to the interview between you and Leslie Saeta and Dreama Tolle Perry’s art program. It was great to put a voice and personality to all the years of your letters. How you keep up with the writing, responding to the public and handling your own career is beyond me and I love multi-tasking. I enjoyed listening to your thoughts and insights about what it takes to be an honest and working artist during the recent radio interview. I always learn something by your words, I always am reassured by your words.

I am listening to your Link. I will listen many times to this one Still listening & excellent — rich juicy motivating content

To Joan Boswell-Gauthier: Although your question was directed to Mr. Genn, I hope it will be alright to offer you a couple of suggestions without knowing the exact situation. Here are my thoughts. The first suggestion is not to paint…that is too complex for now. Here are two ideas involving a drawing book. Taking the drawing book into the presence of your husband and, if possible, draw him. It may help what ever communication is possible. The slow looking required for drawing and the actual drawing may allow you to find some peace. The second is to do a scribble drawing while you are with him. This often leads to an idea worth developing that will inspire you to carve out some time for yourself. I truly wish you well.

“Many poems are never finished, but rather, abandoned.” Many of us do this — visual artists, writers, others. We must follow through with our individual intentions.. Many times abandonment comes about, sometimes it is easier in these busy times, yes? Ideas are lost. Too bad. New revolutions shift. We should consider all works as works in progress. NY

I suspect that most painters approach a canvas with a ‘great idea”, which only rarely achieves its potential. Sometimes the work’s deficiencies only become clear when the work is finished, sometimes they are glaringly obvious early on. Sometimes a painting is rescueable; sometimes not. I approach each new canvas with both trepidation and excitement, but I’ve learned that given my temperament, the painting has a better chance of being completed if I paint the “boring bits” first: sky, background, whatever. This keeps me interested in the subject and excited to be working on it.

Like Robert, I have basically three “sections” or groups of where the art I have worked on, end up. The best, most successful, if not framed right away, when dry, go into a stack of over 200 gallery quality paintings. The next “stack” are those that have not been solved, and are still lacking some major element, be it shapes, texture, value pattern or whatever. And the third grouping are those that just never got close to any goal…almost a waste of time! The best, get signed, and respectfully either framed or put in the “saved gallery paintings”…because they have a quality that I hope to obtain. The next batch, are almost finished…but seem to be lacking major elements, and at the time, perhaps I was too close or maybe not close enough, to what was going on, in my head, and my heart, and out my hands. Like this fall, went out to a side road in North Idaho, with some gals from Spokane, and another friend who lives north of the fields on Boyer. The piece came together almost like magic!! When I got home, found 4 or 5 other paintings, that were “almost” good ones….and so, being autumn, decided to pull them out, and work on them…pulling autumn colors into them, more than they had, and applying what I had felt and learned on the plein air piece I had just done…tickling them into finish!!! And when dry, they all will find a nice frame to set them off. Then, there are those little guys, who just never seemed to click! And at some point, these get sanded down, giving me a new surface, with the old paint…and to which I usually stain the sanded areas, for the foundation of a possible future success. BUT, I never make major decisions of DESTRUCTION, for any work, until I can be removed long enough, to give it a chance…because in the past, after tossing or burning a “failure”… finding some photo of it, saw it for the first time, and realized I had lost a little jewel! Sometimes we can get in the way of our successes…one way or the other…the wisdom, is “KNOWING when to hold ’em, when to fold ’em, and when to walk away”!!!!

“The birds they sing at break of day, ‘Start again’ I hear them say.” Leonard Cohen

My greatest comfort level is walking into my studio and seeing a stash of paintings waiting to be finished. I think of them as my warm-up pals, friends who need help… reasons to experiment and get the kinks out before starting a new work. Shoving a wet brush full of juicy watercolor paints into a yet to be completed nearly done painting can bring life to a static subject and sunshine to a dull day. Some of my best work has evolved from this process!

Sounds like your 68 yr old college friend is having a wonderful time. I’m envious! I bet he’s truly interesting, and still brimming with wonder.

In my early years of learning how to paint watercolors I created a host of works that were not very good. Rather than than throw them out, I saved them as means of watching myself improve and this was in itself inspiring. Additionally I would go back to some of these saved not so good pieces, study what was wrong and then experiment knowing that the only thing that could happen would most likely be an improvement. Watching the change occur before my eyes was wonderful. Fooling around with this kind of an open mind can find you much needed new ground.

Your audio interview was one of the most valuable, down to earth, common sense things I have ever heard. Rather good to hear Robert’s actual voice after reading his excellent English over and over.

I am a student starting out and I like everything I do. Does this mean as I get more paintings done I’m going to get disappointed?

I enjoyed listening to the show in the US called, “Artists Helping Artists”. It was absolutely in character with what you’ve said in your Twice Weekly Letters…. and very helpful. I am still a weekly letters fan, and often discuss the letters with my cronies at the “artspa” group I paint with!

As a watercolor artist, I have a day when I pull everything out and take a second look. The result is either alter, crop or tear up. Sometimes I’ll keep one and paint on the back, but only if I’m not totally dissatisfied with what is on the front side. I don’t want any painting out there that I would be ashamed of down the road.

My “unfinished” stage is mental. Sure, I have a half dozen stashed canvases (over thirty years) that never made it past the conceptual/preliminary planning stages … but I either finish them or the rest never get that far. If I can lay it out on canvas the painting usually follows quickly. It is those compositions that go up against the wall of problem solving that stalemate me. I am more likely to finish a painting and go back weeks or months after completion to correct issues I didn’t see until much later. It’s not a problem of abandonment, it is one of procrastination. I guess ….

For Joan Boswell-Gauthier… I have been where you are now. My precious husband had cancer. I knew well ahead of time what the outcome would be. I made as many bridges as I could when I could. I became a ‘pink lady’ and joined the local art league, took art classes at our community college. What a difference it made. I had something to fall back on when the inevitable happened. I also had the joy of caring for my father after his stroke. I also was blessed with a grandchild during this period. I took care of the child and my dad. Bye and bye he passed away and the grandchild started kindergarten. I was lost… I went from a frantic pace to nothing. That was awful. I was depressed for several months and finally came out of it. When my husband became ill 10 years later I was determined not to let that happen again. My art, the auxiliary and my church duties saved me. Make your bridges now as soon as possible so you won’t have to go through what I did. May God bless you… I’ve walked where you walk. pat

What if? What if there were a page where artists sitting on piles could submit a painting, and the rest of us could download, make some suggested changes in Photoshop, then reupload? Is that a crazy idea? So much easier to look at someone else’s work. Would we gain something in the process to help whittle down our own piles?

Regarding Claire Remsberg’s question, “Where you (Robert,) got the trivia: ‘80% of the active artists are women’ “…and, “What are the present and future implications?” I have a premise: Women are standing in the way of their own greatness. What percentage of the 80% female activist number are Berthe-Morisot-great? 80% of the Berthe Morisots of the present still get little greatness attached to their work because 80% of the peers are women. Women languish in attaching more significance to acceptance by their peers than a penchant for great art. Berthe Morisot by-passed the dam and went full speed ahead, a female counterpart of, Picasso, perhaps? My wife of fifty years, also an artist-with-sales and I have fun with this, probably because we agree on the premise, and agree upon what we consider great art…well, most of the time. :>)