There are times, actually there are lots of times, when I'm working on a piece and I wonder, "What the fuck am I doing this for? It's utter crap."
This isn't the histrionics of a diva seeking reassurance that her performance is in fact simply marvellous, but honest doubt. I should know better by now of course. I should have much more confidence and trust in my ability, yet I think it all too often.
I've been thinking it about the kingfisher I'm working on now. Pretty much as soon as I laid down the watercolour I thought that I had already wasted my time and I should have inked linework over the top instead of taking this risk. I've been thinking it this morning when I was laying down the coloured pencil over the top.
And then something happens, I'm not entirely sure what. But the image in front of me changed into something that almost breathed and moved it's wings. Okay, that might be taking things bit too far in the diva direction, but it does change, and suddenly I have a rush of confidence in what I'm doing, and I'm in love with the piece and the idea of it once again.
I've said often enough to students to have patience with their work and to not judge it too quickly that I really ought to know better. I know that as soon as you chuck the darks into a piece it suddenly jumps out - the contrast working I suppose. But there's also the fact that I work very closely to the paper and don't actually see what I'm doing as a whole. I see the mark that I could have made a bit better, but when I pull back, it just works as part of the whole. ... which is a long-winded way of saying that I think it's working I suppose ; )
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I'm busy working on my blog posts. Watch this space!