Beginning Again

Michael Rich takes a look at a creative fresh start

As the busy Holiday season winds down, I finally have a moment to breathe, to take stock and to look ahead creatively.   It’s a wonderful opportunity to start fresh, to begin again.  After a period like this where I have been away from the studio or in a fallow period of creativity, I feel very much like a beginner, and it is often difficult to find my bearings again in my work.  That is the truth of the creative process, the ebbs and flows that are part of life as an artist.  There are times when life interrupts our creative flow or when, no matter how hard you try, nothing good seems to happen at the easel.  There’s anxiety, boredom and self-doubt that are constant intruders in the studio, who’s voices need to be ignored or overcome that can inhibit us from even getting started.  I ask myself questions about the worth of the work that I am doing and often feel like an imposter.  I imagine that I am not alone in this thinking.  

One afternoon recently, I was wallowing in this mindset of negativity about my work when Monica and I went out for a walk to look at everyone’s Christmas decorations in the neighborhood.  In passing by one elegant house nearby, we saw a pair of my mixed media drawings through the window: work I had forgotten and sold long ago to a collector I didn’t know.  They looked great, and that body of work was all about media exploration and play using watercolors, gesso, crayons, and colored pencils in abstractions of the landscape. 

It felt like a little sign from the universe telling me that I am not an imposter but an artist who has been making work for a long time and that good periods of creativity can come and go.  It was also a reminder that the best of my work grew out of a spirit of play and curiosity rather than thoughts about exhibitions or the art market.   

 Pictured: March I, 2006, mixed media on Arches paper, 22 x 24 in : Collect here

 If I find myself procrastinating, spending time cleaning the studio, cataloging my inventory, or worse, scrolling my phone or the internet, it’s likely that I am in heavy avoidance mode.  I think I am doing useful things to support my practice when, in actuality, I am doing everything but my work.  I know that this is a manifestation of fear: fear that I am not a real artist, fear that I have nothing to say, fear that I don’t know what I am doing, irrational comparison to other’s creativity or, lately – fear that my best paintings are behind me. 

Rubbish! All of it! That is only an internal, destructive, undermining conversation in my head that is just awful to listen to.  I know better.  In the wonderful book, Art and Fear, (a book I love by David Bayles and Ted Orland) the authors write:

“The fear that you are only pretending to do art is the (readily predictable) consequence of doubting your own artistic credentials.  After all, you know better than anyone else the accidental nature of much that appears in your art...  It’s easy to imagine that real artists know what they are doing and that they – unlike you – are entitled to feel good about themselves and their art.  Fear that you are not a real artist causes you to undervalue your work.”

Dammit, I know that!  As an abstract painter whose work is made without preconception, I rely on improvisation. 

I’m supposed to not know what I am doing. 

When I work without fear, it’s all about play, searching, trying things out and making discoveries along the way.  My work is all about uncertainty and finding joy in the process. 

Working with abandon, while sometimes feeling like walking a tightrope, is the key to making work that is not self-conscious but authentic.

When I set all other things aside and am in the flow of working, I am actually hard at play.  All my work begins with a single mark.  Which material I use or what the mark looks like is not important.  What matters is that a mark was made and now demands to be responded to.  So, I make another and another and I am on my way.  Feeling like a beginner is the point.  It allows me to work without overly directing the outcome and requires an open heart and quiet mind. It’s a new year, time to begin again.

Happy New Year Everyone, Michael

P.S. From Monica: Happy New Year from me as well! Have you checked in on the main page of The Smart Creative? It’s a great place to jump-start your creative life after the holidays.

You can easily see and catch up on any posts you may have missed and where paid subscribers can find the post that houses the entire Abstract Watercolor Course. More information about becoming a yearly paid subscriber to access the course can be found in this post. This work-at-your-own-pace course offers an inside look at how I use different processes to work through ideas to create my artwork.

Feel free to send this post to a friend who might like it.