I want to thank both Michael G. for opening this one up, and Mike McC. for the great quote from Teddy R.

I used to worry more about the piddling and pencil sharpening and studio cleaning that I did in anticipation of starting a new painting. Then I had a creative consultant liken it to drawing a bow. The buildup of creative tension was described as a process of imagining the work, amassing whatever information or images--tangible or imagined--were to figure into it, pre-visualizing or rehearsing the first moves, and finally starting (releasing the arrow). I found I couldn't start without the other steps, but if I had done enough preparation, the final work came much more easily, as in Michael's experience.

I had told myself that doing the inner work wasn't really working, since I wasn't actually at the easel, and I wrongly castigated myself for "stalling." I've since relaxed about this, and let it happen. Even with a deadline, I try not to rush to the canvas until I've done the small study, etc. and found my way in.

To Mike McC's point, I tell my students that they'll learn more from a big failure than a small success.

Thanks to all for sharing on this one. We try to appear fearless, but it's not always the truth.

And at the beginning of the New Year, thanks for what I've learned from each of you.

Tom,

I think your creative consultant really hit the mark. It makes so much sense. I find there are times when it is almost impossible to sit in front of that canvas and other times when the painting almost paints itself. With all the other things that have to be done in the day it takes a shift of energy to start working on art.

I think we all have our own version of the so called "stall." I feel a lot like Tom on this matter. I think it's a natural process.

I mostly paint from photographs and I go through what I call the seduction phase. I will literally carry an 8 x 10 photo around with me for days or weeks. I will take it with me throughout the house and even to restaurants and stare at it. Over this time I believe that I am entering the painting.

The curious thing to me is that I go through a similar period to exit the process. I will carry the painting around from room to room and stare at it. I think that I have to have some period of time to emotionally exit the painting.

I can

:thumbsup: Mike, you said it in words that only you can. It is so funny the things we all do. I do nearly the exact thing that you do but hadn't placed a title to it and I like yours.

The difference is that I do not carry photos around but I start with many, do a narrowing down to about 10 and then further try to narrow that down 'til I finally feed that itch of creativeness within my very soul.

I then paint, bring it often into my house (studio just outside within a few yards) and set it where I view it often. But this is where I must be very careful. I tend to overwork the oil. I catch myself enjoying what I have thus far but maybe if I just touch this bit up a little, it could be better. Not a correction which would be necessary-only enhancement changes
WRONG---I have to really stop myself. Then release it and let it fly away.

I read somewhere and have been told to turn my work to the wall until I sell it or (in the case of it being a commission), until it is delivered. I must listen better.

Perhaps fear is the reason for procrastination. I have that problem occasionally. Never thought it was fear before.

"It's just paint," my teacher, George Passantino reminds his students when we get overwhelmed.

Also, I need to connect and fall a little in love with my subject. This immersion process begins long before any paint touches my virgin canvas and includes things as simple as listening to their favorite radio station or cd for inspiration. The contrived intimacy helps to melt away fear.

An enourmous amount of pressure also comes off when I offer a 100% money-back guarantee should the client be less than delighted. This puts the fun back into the portrait process.

As my darling British husband says, "No knickers in a twist!"

Love is my secret weapon against fear.