ON THE JOURNEY OF CREATING

I thought I'd begin a series of blog posts exploring the many ways the act of creating enriches our lives. Along the way, I'll also share some of the pitfalls, frustrations, and unexpected discoveries that are part of every creative journey.

Although I'll often write from the perspective of a painter, many of these thoughts apply equally to sculpture, writing, dance, music, and virtually every other creative discipline.

In this first installment, On the Journey of Creating, I explore a curious—and for many, perhaps baffling—feeling that often comes over me after I complete a painting. It's an experience I've discovered I'm not alone in having.

I'd love to know if you've ever experienced something similar in your own creative work—or even in another area of life.

As always, thanks for reading,

Gerard

Happy creating!

ON THE JOURNEY OF CREATING

It’s hard to explain, but when I look at one of my paintings the day after I’ve finished it, I often get a strange feeling. I find myself wondering who painted it. The entire journey—the countless decisions, revisions, and discoveries that led to its completion—seems to vanish. I can no longer recall all the steps that brought the painting into being.

I know it sounds odd. The only comparison I can make is to driving a long distance. Once you arrive at your destination, you rarely remember every turn, every mile, or every decision that got you there. Somehow the process fades, leaving only the destination.

For a long time, I thought I was one of the few people who experienced this. Then I discovered that Dorothea Rockburne, the renowned abstract artist, felt much the same way. She expressed it far better than I ever could:

"A painting of mine works when it looks as though I had nothing to do with it... when something else took over." (Art is the Highest Form of Hope: & Other Quotes by Artists, Phaiden Press Limited, London, 2016)

That's as close as I've ever come to describing the feeling.