Fear - Does it EVER go away?

[Michael Georges]

I have a commission that I started yesterday - after sitting on it for over a week because I was afraid to start it. It is not a big thing, just a lady and her dog done in charcoal - and yet, it intimidated me for seven days. I piddled, I paddled, I went Christmas shopping - anything to avoid starting that painting.

Yesterday I just sat down, picked up a piece of charcoal and made a mark. Before I knew it, it was three hours later and the dog was almost completely done - and the fear was gone.

Go figure.

I have the book
Art and Fear and have read it. It is very insightful and true, but it still bothers me that after doing portraiture for so long, even the simple commissions still have the power to scare me.

I have heard other artists who have been in the field for many many more years than I mention that they still get scared of paintings.

How about you?

[Michele Rushworth]

A big pristine white canvas intimidates many artists, I think. I wonder if that's one reason why some of them tone it first.

[Morris Darby]

Michael, I have been battling that same fear, thinking somewhere along the way of my career it would melt into a seasoned confidence. I know my skill level and sometimes it even surprises me, but there is that haunting anticipation with each new commission. But, it's not practice anymore, it's the real thing.

My confidence was much higher when I sat sketching at the town square and people would walk behind you and compliment and be amazed at the work in progress. It was good practice. Now, someone has handed you an enormous check for three-quarters of the amount you quoted as a half-hearted joke and you are sitting alone in a small bedroom you call a "studio" with a dry paintbrush and the clock ticking.

Of course, Michael, shame on you for scaring us amateurs like that. For a minute there, I thought you were serious. (grin)

[Jean Kelly]

Michael, I'd like to loan you my mantra. Fear becomes anticipation, anticipation becomes excitement! Repeat 10 times daily.

Jean

[Rochelle Brown]

Could it be guilt?

Often times I feel the fear and when I think about it, for me, it comes partly from guilt. Why? Well, for one thing I personally don't know where my next commission is coming from.

Should I be somewhere working on promotion or marketing? Are my friends and family disappointed because I didn't pick a more conventional way to try to make a living? Will I be successful at this piece or mess it up, making the client unhappy with my work, perhaps after hours of labor? It is not pleasant to think of these things but for me, these are the causes of my fear.

[Marvin Mattelson]

Fools rush in where angels fear to tread. And I've rarely been accused of being an angel.

[Patt Legg]

Can I ever relate to this topic, right down to doing laundry or windows instead! Believe me, I'd rather be painting.

I have to say that with me it is usually there - this dreaded absence of courage. My hubby will question this, which I must say, doesn't help matters too much. Not being an artist himself but a realist by nature, he says "just pick up the brush and paint". Hum-m-m, well.

I will say that I feel better to hear all of this, as though seeing it in print from others in some way makes me feel more well, uh NORMAL. It can be a lonely sight sitting out there in front of an all white "painting to be".

But nevertherless, be brave my friends, be brave. It's only your life we are talking about.

[Patt Legg]

Oh, and I forgot to add that the other dreaded fear is presenting the portrait, which I am about to do in a couple of weeks.

I will be presenting the 9-11 firefighter's portrait to a new found friend, his widow. Knowing the predicament, the reason, well ... you bet I am plenty shaky about it all, though very proud to be part of it. Anyone with suggestions of how to gain a little confidence here would be most appreciated.

[Joan Breckwoldt]

Thank you, Michael, for starting this thread. I have only painted a few portraits (pastel and oil) and I am happy with my results. But, still, every time I think about starting another portrait I put it off for such a long time. There are so many distractions in life! (read: excuses!) I always feel like the last painting that I did, and was pleased with, was just a fluke and what if I can't do that again? How silly, really. It's the practice that is so valuable.

I too have the book 'Art and Fear' and it helped to read in black and white that my 'problem' is just human nature.

It also helps me to remember that success means persistence. I feel there must be many talented artists in the world, but those that are successful are the ones who keep at it!

Thanks for sharing,
Joan

[Steven Sweeney]

Michael, I can't attribute this thought to anyone in particular, but I've read it so often that perhaps I'll get past the copyright lawyers. It's often said that courage isn't the absence of fear, but the willingness to proceed in the face of it.

It's also said that someone who doesn't have the sense to be afraid in the face of danger or even uncertainty and the unknown is falsely courageous and often foolhardy and sometimes so silly that no one even takes them on. The fact that we tend to have a cultural admiration for that behavior -- especially when it works out (though we're perversely willing to make fools of the failures, too, as if we couldn't be or haven't been fools) -- doesn't make the "artist's block" any easier. Makes it harder, actually.

I think your reticence isn't a problem at all, but an indicator of professional attention and concern. In writing circles, it's called "incubation". You know what you have to say, you know what you want to say, and you know where you're going with what you've got -- and you put that into the pot to boil around for a while.

You do it during your day job, and you do it during your sleep. Connections, phrases, words, and images, come to you. Some of them surprise and excite you -- you suddenly see all kinds of new ways to proceed and make your point.

You frantically search for endtable lamp chains at 2 a.m., pens that work, and you jot those notions down on grocery receipts, or pink slips telling you that you'll be painting a lot more next week. You've read of other professionals' taking 2 or 3 days, or longer, to sort out the setting-up and the get-going. We've all seen, too, the folks who charge in with bravado and no plan. It takes a real pro to make that pretty, and, well . . .

From Joe Singer:

Can a portrait be painted by rushing in helter-skelter, plopping the subject down in the nearest chair, squeezing out paint, and slapping out a reasonable likeness of her?

You bet it can -- and too often that's just how portraits are painted. But this is morally reprehensible.

You can't edit anything -- by which I mean you can't fashion it or accept advice -- until you've written the rough draft. The rough draft is what all the wannabes will never produce. ("I could writa book," they'll tell you, over cocktails. "Wish I had time to paint like you do!" they'll say. Goofballs and airheads, I say.

It isn't a small thing that we're doing here. It's a courageous thing. Most of us approach every commission with a mixture of confidence and gut-twisting fear. But if we don't, we're fools, because the fun isn't in the sure thing, it's in the risk. Otherwise, Wal-Mart has an arts training program.

Let's hear it for rough drafts, and first lines, and charcoal sketches and oil sketches, and getting going. Ninety-nine percent don't get that far, so if we're looking at your progress post on this Forum, give yourself a pat on the back, and then get back to work.