A week ago I was in the studio trying my hand at oil painting again. (I’m really really not the best of oil painters…) It was just the dreariest of days and soon I realized that the sky and ground base layer I was going for had turned to mud and I was just scraping the “mud” up and down on the canvas. I stepped back and looked at the painting. I looked out the window and back at the painting. I had somehow managed to capture how I felt in that moment, without really intending to. I was trying for something else entirely.
I most certainly did not create a “work of art” on what is probably now a ruined canvas, but it started me thinking about the definition of art. Most people see the tangible result of artistic expression, a painting or a novel, and call it “art,” but for me, the act of creating the art is the art. Anyone can learn the skills to follow steps and make something the same way someone else has. Artists create something new because they allow themselves to explore what is uncertain.
This idea is possibly why I struggle so much to come up with tangible results. I get pulled down trails of ideas and possibilities and find myself in completely unexpected places that I feel the need to explore. But if I’m being honest, that’s what I really want. I am not trying to become a successful marketer of stories or paintings. There are plenty of ways that I could actually make money without putting so much emotionally on the line.
No, I want to make art. I want to find myself in this short life I have been given, and that takes embracing the happy accidents.