Don’t Give Up! These words, immortalized in song by Peter Gabriel and Kate Bush, are also my mum’s favourite trio of words whenever I get dispirited. And the funny thing is – they seem to work.
It’s so much easier to consider throwing in the towel when challenges seem insurmountable. However, why give up something that you really love just because of a few hiccups?
Here’s what I’m talking about – last Sunday’s painting spree. I chose to paint a Dartmoor pony. (I used to live fairly close by to the moors and remember furtively collecting “pony poop” for Mum’s rose garden one blustery afternoon.) Moving swiftly from that image; the ponies are the cutest guys and girls ever. There’s something about their fat bellies, dumpy legs and flowing mane hair. Their windswept appearance makes me think they never have a bad hair day. To me, they’re the Farrah Fawcett’s of the animal world.
Well, enough about the ponies, and back to the painting. I’d been having a little trouble with my watercolours so far this year. Watercolours are pretty unforgiving – let’s make that VERY unforgiving. Although “lifting” off a mistake with toilet paper works to a certain extent, some mistakes just can’t be erased. (Just like life, I suppose.) Other painting mediums let you blithely paint over your mistakes and carry on, but not so watercolour. Watercolour bares everything.
In many ways that’s the joy of the medium. It’s not supposed to be overworked, overthought or over anything! It’s an unpredictable medium too. (Yes, that’s to be expected when you work with water.) But it can be incredibly frustrating when you like how a painting is developing and then a stupid decision, one bad stroke of the brush, or a blob of coloured water ruins your blossoming masterpiece.
So, you guessed it, that’s exactly what happened to my Dartmoor pony painting. I stuffed up. Big time. It couldn’t be rescued. My mood whipped into a tornado in a matter of minutes. (I would describe myself as easy-going.) Frustration and disappointment do that to you. But after my initial reaction settled, that little inner voice said: “Maybe it’s best to stop painting. You’re just wasting paper and what’s the point? You also ruined that one of the lop-eared bunny. Remember?”
That inner voice thing certainly lasts longer than a tornado of frustration. I felt the anger lift away in just a couple of hours, but it took days before I felt strong enough to face my inner voice of self-doubt. Self-doubt is insidious, destructive and soul-destroying. But in the end, my mum is right (as usual – Sigh!) So, I’ve convinced myself to keep learning and growing in both the joys and frustrations of watercolour painting.
And I almost forget, I’ve included a pic of my attempt (excluding the totally spoilt bit). I still think he has the most awesome hair!
Informatіve article, just what I needed.