Studio Blues

Okay, so June has been a terrible month for me in the studio. With summer coming up, I’ve been supply teaching extensively over the last few weeks in preparation for a stagnant income. This means studio time has been few and far between—sometimes just sketching on my lunch breaks, adding a layer or two after dinner, and doing a lot of staring at artworks that feels like they are taunting me.
I have over 20 pieces of artwork on the go right now, and honestly, they all feel terrible.

This is a first for me. I’ll be honest.

I usually have multiple pieces in progress so that, depending on the mood or emotion I need to express, there's always something to work on. But being 20+ pieces in and feeling like none of them are driving me forward? That’s new.

I think I’m in my own head a bit. I’ve built up next year’s show so much in my mind that every time I step into the studio, it feels like it has to be productive—which, of course, makes it the exact opposite.
I know ugly or “bad” artwork is very much part of the creative process. It’s necessary for learning and growth. But still, it feels like I don’t have time to fail right now. And because of that, everything I make feels... ugly. Like a puzzle missing key pieces.

Take this one landscape of Stormhaven I’ve been working on—for two years! I’ve never spent that long on a piece before. I’ve reworked and reworked it over and over again. I’ve sent it to friends and family, pleading for suggestions—or hoping someone will take pity on me and just take it away. But still, this painting sits in my studio. I’ve hidden it away for the better part of 2024, and apparently, now I think it’s time to try working on it again.​

How it started

What it looked like when I put it away for 8 months

The current iteration as of this blog post

I’ve been told to cut it off the stretcher and move on. I’ve been told to gesso over it and start fresh. I’ve been offered other suggestions on how to “fix” it. But me and this painting, we’re arm-wrestling our way through oblivion.

And for some reason, I can’t seem to let it go.

So here I am—stressed about a show I’ve built up in my head as career-defining and fundamental to my practice—wrestling with a painting that, at this point, is probably laughing at me.
Does anyone else do this when they have other priorities? Pick the most annoying task and refuse to move on until it’s done?

I know, just like with running, you need bad runs (or art days) to appreciate the good ones. But a whole month of slogging through it feels like the 50km race equivalent of desperately wanting to give up after three sets of 45-degree hills.

Instead of my knees hurting and every downhill threatening a full-body tumble, I’m waiting for the moment I’ll just sit on the studio floor, stare up at what I now consider a monster of a painting, and have a good cry about it.

I foresee a desperate act in my future. Maybe I’ll throw paint at it and turn it into an abstract piece. Or maybe I’ll find the mindset—and energy—for the tedious shading needed to salvage some of the congealed forest I accidentally turned into one massive bush.
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I know social media makes painting look like an aesthetic technicolor dream, but honestly, my time in the studio this month has felt more like wading through mud in a rainstorm—while being eaten alive by mosquitoes and deer flies.