Painting yourself into a corner

If you've ever seen the old--really, really, really old--US TV series I Love Lucy, you'll recall the episode in which Lucy and Ethel are redecorating a bedroom. They decide to do it themselves because tightwad Ricky Ricardo, Lucy's bandleader husband, is too cheap to pay painter/paperhangers. Needless to say, Lucy--or was it Ethel? Well, one of them--ends up pasted underneath the wallpaper before it's all over.

Last week, I felt I had done much the same thing with a painting. I had reworked it and reworked it and reworked it. When a friend asked this morning what I had done with it, I said, "Well, so far I haven't slashed it."

I also did some really crummy work at life drawing on Tuesday night at Krowji Artists; not the fault of the model, nor the venue nor anything except just substandard seeing and producing by me. I got one respectable portrait out of it all, yet another aspect, I have concluded, of my favorite model's most mobile face.

What have I learned from all this?

First, when a painting goes wrong...just wrong...no matter what your friends/lover/spouse/cat say...abandon it. Do it early. Stop wasting time on a losing proposition. That's why, for oil painters, god made gesso. For watercolorists....other side? Scrap? Colour tests?

Second, not every line that drips from your fingers will be Rembrandt class. Really? Really. Get used to it. Stop beating yourself up. We simply don't know anything about what Rembrandt threw away or painted over.

If you have a model whose face or body vexes you, keep at it. It is your major learning experience. I mean, what do you learn from repeating what you already know you can do? Only maybe, just maybe, don't yell out in the life class, "Alex, stop THINKING! Your face is changing." All models' faces change during a pose, some more than others, though. I have concluded that your most difficult model will be your best teacher...just as my hard-headed, stubborn, intelligent horse was my best teacher for that skill. I got dumped over a good few fences first, though. Still...he taught me everything I know about jumping horses, enough that I have been able to teach others for decades.

I think models might be the same. So (note to self), after the next rotten drawing/painting session, pick yourself up, dust yourself off, and start all over again. (And no, there are no other cliches I'm planning to use today.)