Even though I was ready to go to bed and read a couple of hours ago, I stayed up and played at my art desk. I’ve been making “mother sheets” — just big mixed-media pieces where I play with techniques and color. I’ve got several of them; I decided to make postcards out of the first one I made.
I’m not through with them yet. I think the stencils need outlines, but that’s a relatively new technique for me and I’m always a little leery of doing that. I guess I’m afraid that I’m going to mess them up, and they’re fine the way they are.
But that’s the thing — they’re fine. Like everyone who creates, I want every creation to be more than fine! I want everything to be a masterpiece, even though I know it doesn’t work that way.
I’m familiar with the idea that if you want to create something good, you need to create a lot of that something. I’m reminded of the story of the ceramics teacher who let his students decide whether they wanted to be graded on the quality or quantity of their output during the semester. One could either be graded on the number of pieces produced or on the quality of one piece. Interestingly enough — though perhaps not surprisingly — the best work came from the students who created the most work.
Partly, of course, that’s because practice makes perfect. But I think another part of it has to do with the freedom and detachment one can develop with the work. If my goal is to create 100 things, then I have more freedom to play and experiment than I do if my goal is to create a few really good ones. That freedom provides a space for us to find our voice and develop our own style.
I tend to be kind of precious about my creative endeavors, always wanting to create something beautiful. It’s hard for me to remember, sometimes, what I’m really creating for: the sheer joy of the process. I love to have paint on my hands (painty paws, we call them at our house) and to just get lost playing with color, tools, and techniques.
That’s why I create.
