Why do I paint?
In the last year and a half I have spent a decent amount of time taking art business courses. They all have different strategies, non of which I have implemented yet, but the common thread in all of them is uncovering my “why.”
It has taken many pages of journaling, hours of reflection, revisiting the lessons, and conversations with other artists. Mostly it has required a great deal of honesty with myself. But I think I’ve hit it, and that’s what I’m sharing with you today:
I paint because that is the best way I know to honor this life we’ve been given.
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I paint because that is the best way I know to honor this life we’ve been given. 〰️
The other common thread to discovering one’s “why” is tapping into some vulnerable, sad memories and being able to balance it with equally joyful memories. What lesson can be learned in all of those individual moments, as well as what ties them all together? For me it has taken some time to admit, but more importantly accept, my reasoning. Six weeks ago or so, it dawned on me, however.
When my best friend Danny died in 2006, that obviously shook me up. It continues to be a source of pain, while simultaneously providing me with some incredibly joyful memories of our relationship. Everyone who has ever known Danny can probably speak to something similar. His presence in our lives, whether it was for 15 years or 15 minutes, is truly unforgettable. And even though he is gone, there is almost a “6 degrees from Kevin Bacon” effect. I had no idea that a couple of my high school friends (we went to different high schools, mind you) knew him until after he had passed away.
In fact, I would not have met my beloved Allison had it not been for the memorial fundraiser dinners his family hosted for the scholarship fund in his honor. So even after death, he’s still working his magic from beyond.
And that brings me to the big lesson I had: regardless of what challenges life throws at me, don’t be closed off to the possibilities of chance. The same way that things we don’t anticipate can throw our whole life into a downward spiral, the reverse is also true. Beautiful things can and do grow from negative experiences.
How does this apply to art?
I find that when I let some control go, I end up making the most exciting art!
See, I even need to use an exclamation point. When I try to exert my will over the painting, yes it comes out exactly as I planned. But where’s the fun in that? As a colleague of mine told a non-artist when they quipped the cliche “I can’t even draw a straight line”
“Well, why would you want to draw a straight line?”
Sometimes we think that time and life are simply moving in a straight line, and when something forces that line to deviate we, rightfully, freak the F out.
Danny never had the chance to pursue his passions in life because it was cut short. Around the world and throughout history, death is quite literally the only guarantee we have, to use another old cliche. His story is not the only one. Many lines have ended without the opportunity for deviation.
And so I paint because that’s the best way I know how to honor the messy, but ultimately beautiful experience we call life.
If you’ve read this entire post, I’d love to know why you paint, or write, or sing, or do anything that makes you happy :)