Navigating the 5 Phases of Rejection

"West 57th" - oil on linen - 9x12"
purchase info

I received notification today that my submission was declined from this year's Oil Painters of America National Show. (not the above painting)

I thought it might be useful to write a post about rejection right now, in the thick of the sting of it, before I have processed it and landed in a more empowering perspective.

Putting Yourself Out There

First of all - SO bummed! I was certain that this time, this painting (view entry) was getting in.  I was feeling super confident that it was strong and worthy of being in the show. That there was no way they'd say no to this one. Yep, I thought after 7 consecutive unsuccessful attempts to get in the OPA National - this was my year.

Having gone a significant number of rounds with this particular demon, I believe there are 5 key phases that lead into and eventually out of the experience that is rejection. The time spent in the middle phases varies depending on a few factors such as:

• emotional investment in your painting
• caliber of show entered
• what you feel is riding on your acceptance
• who else is in the club
• how many times you've been in the ring

Over time I have come to cycle through the stages pretty quickly, but I have never escaped riding the wave for a few moments at least.

Phase 1: Dear John...

Today the news came in via posts popping up on FB from some really great artists, "Hey, so thrilled that my painting was just accepted into the OPA National!"

Uh-oh, know what that means...logged on to check the status of my entry, scrolled past one accepted entry (Yay! Melissa got in!) after another (Yay! Sarah got in!) - all the way down to the "W's" to confirm my name glaringly missing from the list.

There is always a brief moment here when I think, 'Well that can't be right, they must've made an error. Forgot to put my name on. For sure, cuz I know my painting belongs in this show."

Ha ha, I wonder if they ever actually contact an artist and say, "Whoops, our bad, your are so in the show, we just screwed up on the acceptance list."

Phase 2: Owning It

For the most part, I have come to the place where it barely phases me anymore as I am confident in my work and I know that I am doing the best I can, but this time it knocked me around a bit more than usual as I really, really love the painting I entered.

So I walked around feeling heavy and down for a while and then I decided to be really present with whatever was rising up in response to the news, starting with getting curious about the overall sense of disappointment and negativity wanting to creep in and run my day.

Phase 3: Spinning It

Here's what I noticed my particular story is around this one:

There's this exclusive club of the best painters in North America. Every now and then they let me come to their meetings (I have been juried into a few regional shows), but they are never going to let me be a full fledged member of the club. Nope, no national shows for me. (Did I mention my friends - who are fabulous painters - are getting in?)

Phase 4: (Mis) Concluding

Therefore, I must not be very good. And if I'm not any good, then where's the fun in painting? And what's the point in painting? More importantly, I reaaaallly want to be in the club....but they keep saying, "NO". What's wrong with me? Oh wait, right, I'm not very good....

Rinse and repeat.

Phase 5: Shifting Gears

Of course none of this has anything to do with fact, but as long as I tell myself it's fact, it is a big dark cloud circling around me and pulling me in. If I choose to let it, it will feel like the truth and interfere with my peace.

The solution lies in the freedom to choose. I kinda need the pity party for a while so I can process the natural feelings that rejection triggers. For me this starts with a huge wave of 'so not happy', wallowing in that for a time, and at some point deciding I really would prefer not to feel this way. From there I start to get clear what the negative messages are, give them space to have their say, and mindfully reflect on their validity.

Then I ask, "What else is true?" This is the way out from under, back to center, back to what's important. "What do I intend as an artist? What compels me to paint? How far have I come since my very first painting?"

These questions inevitably lead to a deep satisfaction in what I have accomplished so far, and a sense of joy at how much room there still is to grow. These two things, and the fact that they will never cease to be a part of the experience,  are precisely what make painting such a rich and rewarding pursuit.

The rest of the game: sales, shows, awards, credentials - the many forms of external validation - while worthwhile, are secondary to my primary passion to see what cool things I can do with paint.

And next year I'm getting in dammit! :-D

Taking Charge of Procrastination

"Door #3"
Oil on linen - 8x10"
purchase info

Do you find the hardest part of painting is getting started?

I can get to the studio and masterfully kill a good 2-3 hours before I ever pick up a paint brush. A lot of it "looks" like work, sorting through reference, cleaning brushes, checking frame inventory, etc...but it is definitely about avoiding diving in.

Pomodoro into the Deep End  

I just discovered a very cool procrastination buster. Some of you may have heard of it as it was developed in the '80's. (Ok I'm a little out of the loop).

It's called the Pomodoro Technique. Follow the link if you'd like more info, I won't get into all the details here, but I gave it a test drive tonight and found it to be surprisingly effective.

Here's the dealio: A "pomodoro" is a block of 25 minutes of focused, uninterrupted work (you must be vigilant with this) followed by a 5 minute rest. You decide in advance how many pomodoros a task will take, or in the case of painting, how many pomodoros you want to commit to stringing together.

For example, with the above painting I decided I wanted to commit to 4 hours of focused work, so 8 pomodoros. I downloaded an app that has an interval timer, set it to run for 8 cycles of 25 and 5, and dove in.

Here's What Happened

First of all, and most surprising, I came out of the gate instantly focused and engaged. Something about the commitment to the time chunks put me in the mindset that I had to get after it.

I noticed that it was challenging to break when the timer went if I was "in the middle" of something, but I honored the system and stopped for 5 minutes each time. After 3 cycles I realized the break was beneficial even if it interrupted the flow as it gave me time for valuable contemplation and a brief check out from intense focus in a more structured way.

At 6 pomodoros (3 hours) I began to ignore the break and paint on through. In the end I wound up painting a total of 6 and a half hours with only a couple of breaks in the last two hours. The good news about that is it was because I was on a roll and totally engaged - so the technique got my momentum going, yay!

I am going to play with this some more as well as read the book because I think there might be a key value in honoring the technique exactly as it was developed, and I'm curious what the creator believes about that.

I'll report back in on my progress. Would love to hear how it goes for you guys if you decide to give it a try.

About "Door #3"

When we were in NYC we rented the top floor of a brownstone instead of staying in a hotel. This room was halfway down the stairs and I loved passing by it each day. I found the warm tones created by the little table lamp, the old brass door hardware, and the radiating shadows all super captivating and just a little mysterious.

"Door #3" - detail

Show Up and Let Go

 "Girl Candy"
Oil on linen - 9x12"

In a recent post I talked about being flexible rather than tightly wound when life throws us curve balls. In this post I'd like to share what I have learned about how this theory applies to painting.

Askin' for Trouble

In the beginning of a painting, all is good as I start making marks and get things going, but soon, and almost always, I find myself in the "ugly duckling" stage, in that tenuous middle of the painting place where I am not at all sure of a successful outcome. This is when the door to anxious and stressed swings open, beckoning to me to "take charge", and I have found walking through it inevitably leads to my trying to wrestle the painting to the ground, a game I often lose.

A Better Approach

Instead of getting busy trying to predict and control what's going to happen next when in that uncertain place, there's an option to make the much more spacious choice of sensing and responding to what's happening. In this space, there is room for more than just us. The painting and the subject also have something to contribute if we take the time to contemplate and listen.

As you paint, the process of relativity begins, and the painting starts to take on a life of its own. It has valuable information to offer about what to do next, as does the subject, but if you are locked on to a rigid idea about where you want to go, and what needs to happen to get there, you'll miss the great info that is being offered up. It helps to remember that painting isn’t something you do to a canvas - it is a dance between artist, subject and painting, an ongoing conversation until together you have decided the expression is complete.

 "Girl Candy" - detail

Carolyn Anderson taught me: "Having a fixed idea about how a painting will go is like walking down a hallway slamming doors of possibility closed behind you." Valuable advice, it's a reminder to step back often and make room for curiosity and intuition to be a part of the painting process. Pay attention, be flexible, and trust - everything you need to know is right there with you.

So Much for Best Laid Plans...

"Night on the Town"
Oil on linen - 9x12"

Late post tonight so it'll be a quickie.

First - 30 in 30, consecutively or otherwise, ain't happenin'. I was completely committed to finishing a painting each day I went to the studio, but that's not what happened. Each painting I've started has required more care than I could give it in a day.

So the choice became: figure out how to paint something I can finish in a day for the next 25 paintings, or embrace what's happening, and ditch plan A. No choice, I'm going with what's showing up. The reason I signed on for the challenge was to find out if I even wanted to paint anymore, after an almost 2 year hiatus. The answer is a resounding yes! I am loving painting, and that has not happened for a very long time. Something huge has shifted in the time away, everything is different now. Lots more to say on this, but will save it for a more energetic moment.

I am still honouring the commitment - with my latest revision. :-)  I am going to keep going until I have 30 New York paintings done, and will post as I go. Please keep checking in, I am loving all of your feedback, and glad to hear that lots of what I'm discovering is resonating with you guys.

In keeping with the new format, here's a detail of this piece:

What is Creativity?

"Window Shopping"
Oil on linen - 9x12"
purchase info

I have pretty much always believed that I am not creative. Technically proficient yes, creative no. A couple of recent conversations got me thinking more about this, and began to lead me to a new perspective.

In pondering what exactly creativity is,  I'm starting to think that it isn't some mysterious thing that we have to find within ourselves and draw out, some magical something that rises up from the depths when it's ready to show itself. It's occurring to me that creativity is simply about curiosity.

Focusing on the Questions

Instead of starting a painting with the intention of getting to the end of it, I'm noticing it's different when I focus on how many things I can get curious about going in. Things like:

• what exactly compels me to paint a certain subject, and why
• what is my specific, unique way of looking at the world
• where does my excitement to tackle a subject come from
• what drives my personal choice about what to leave in and what to take out
• what is my immediate response when I lay one colour, one value, one edge down beside another
• what's it like to really experience, moment by moment, the act of transforming a flat white canvas into bits of colour that tell a cool story 

When I forget about attaining a finished product and dive deeply into experience, I become connected with my authentic creative self. It's been there all along, but I was thinking it was something different. This is where I seem to be being led to, and the more I open to it, the more the act of painting is becoming a fascinating adventure. A successful outcome, when it happens - is icing on the cake.

"Art isn't a result; it's a journey. The challenge of our time is to find a journey worthy of our heart and soul." - Seth Godin

PS: A friend suggested I start posting some close-ups of my paintings. Here's a closer look at the detail in this one:

Curve Ball

"Wired"
Oil on linen - 8x6"

So my intention to use the 30 in 30 challenge as an attempt to paint more loosely took a hard left today. I had a big 'aha' moment (yay!) The whole pursuit of painting looser seems a little misguided now. It's not about painting loose, or tight, or any other way. What matters is to paint as much like me as I possibly can. (Okay that only took 50 years).

There is more here, but it has not gelled enough to articulate it yet. It's something about less trying and more trusting, less looking out and more looking in. I do know that everything has changed. Will let you know when I figure out exactly what that means.

As I was painting this image, I kept asking myself what was captivating me - and there are SO many elements: The brushed steel texture of the phone box against the shiny black receiver and background wall tiles. The notes of high key colour in the striped rail markings and on the yellow subway ramp. The little colour surprises in the labels on the phone. The dark horizontals and verticals holding it all together. And that awesome coiled metal phone cord - so fun to paint!

No idea what the next painting will bring - but I'm loving the adventure!

Staying Open

"After Dark"
Oil on linen - 6x8"
Click here to bid

Ha ha! Okay I used a totally blurry photo reference for this painting thinking that would surely force me to paint looser, and somehow I managed to find order in the chaos.

I have a feeling this journey to paint differently may be leading me somewhere other than where I intended to go....

On that note, I'm embracing the wisdom of  Lao Tzu: "A good traveler has no definite plans and no intention of arriving."

Here's a look at the photo reference:

30 in 30

"Glee Drive-By" - Oil on Linen - 8x6"
Click here to bid

Leslie Saeta has thrown down the gauntlet, challenging any takers to paint 30 paintings in 30 days. I believe she means in January and I have a couple of other demands on my attention this month so almost passed on this one, but she's inspired me so  I've decided to modify the challenge - 30 paintings in 30 (non-consecutive) days. This will be a great opportunity to take a run at some of the New York reference I have been avoiding getting my teeth into.

The Bigger Challenge

The main concern has been how to paint this subject matter loosely as it seems to compel me to put on my crash helmet and seat belt and hunker down in the back seat when what I really want to do is take a battle stance on the hood with a sword or some other equally daunting  weaponry raised in the air - charging down the highway at breakneck speed slaying dragons and conquering intimidation.

The Plan

So the plan is 30 New York paintings in 30 days, no bigger than 9x12 and mostly 6x8 or smaller, to see if I can't find a way to tackle this subject matter in a fresh, loose way. This first one out of the gate is still pretty tight, but the intention was loose, which is half the battle, and there are some loosey goosey bits, so overall I'm calling it a win. On to the next!

Take it to the Next Level in 2013

"Two Plus Two"
Oil on Linen - 16x12"


















 How much did you stretch this year? Did you inch carefully out of your comfort zone or take a bold and daring leap? Will artistic growth be a priority in 2013?

I love this time of year because it always inspires me to reflect on the year past and set my sights on where I want to soar to in the coming year.

Know Where There's Room for Growth

This painting is a great example of where I am limited and how I want to grow. The end result was not what I intended. I wanted loose, painterly passages of thick and thin, expressive brushwork, an abstract quality up close. I got tight, controlled, careful, contained, photographic. I was playing it safe and it held me back from 'finding out'. It always will - can't have it both ways. Dammit. :-)

There are things I love about this painting, but I want something more for it. So I'm going to take another run at it and overshoot for loose, see what happens. An experiment in stretching with a focus on non-attatchment. Will let you know how it goes.

Once You're Clear - Embrace the Challenge With an Open Heart

There is value in finding a way to be in joy with a painting whatever shows up - while still keeping your eye on a higher bar. There is no value in feeling angst and frustration if what you're doing isn't where you want to be, and yet we all succumb to this occasionally.

What I have found is the more willing I am to carve out painting time that is focused on nothing but growth - no commercial or ego demands at play - the more at ease I feel with my results, whatever they are. And the more connected I become with the knowledge that becoming a skillful painter is a journey that has no end.

2013 Workshop Schedule

I have just finalized my workshop schedule for the upcoming year. Have lots of cool and varied learning opportunities on the books. I hope you can fit one into your schedule - I'd love to share a captivating part of the journey with you! Please follow this link for more info.

How to Get Your Best from Workshops

Drawing demo from mannequin

Are you wide open to new learning when you take a workshop? Or are you maybe, even just a little, caught up in looking like you have a half a clue about what you're doing...


Embrace the Adventure

Just finished teaching a 4 day portrait workshop at my Canmore studio. At the beginning of my workshops I always encourage students to  think of it like a laboratory for learning, a place to try on NEW things, to explore territory that is foreign and unfamiliar, and most importantly to have ZERO expectation of going home with a "successful" painting. And then we all agree to celebrate frustration and fully welcome it when it inevitably shows up.


Bring Your Warrior Spirit

These things can be a hard sell, as they require a willingness to check your ego at the door, never an easy feat. My group this past week was whole-heartedly committed to it, which made it super fun to teach them. I was blown away by how hard they worked (pretty much had to kick them out of the studio each day) and stoked to watch them make leaps and bounds of progress.

This kind of "willing to fall flat on your face" commitment to learning serves our growth as artists more than anything else we can do. If failure becomes an important and valuable part of the journey forward, rather than something to be avoided at all costs, then the real learning can begin.

Focused engagement at work

How do you create optimal value from a workshop environment? Please share your #1 tip in the comments below - we'll all benefit from the wisdom!

Vancouver Opening

Degrees of Expression
October 29th - November 11th, 2012

I'm in a group show with some of my fabulous painting friends that opens tonight on Granville Island in Vancouver. The work is a diverse group of over 90 paintings by some very talented artists.

Please drop by to say hi between 6 and 9pm tonight if you can make it, would love to see you there! If you can't come tonight, the show runs until November 11th at the FCA Gallery.

The artists in the show are Sarah Kidner, Jean Pederson, Gaye Adams, Suzanne Northcott and Janice Robertson.

Developing the Skill of "Confusion Endurance"

"Eggplant and Lemons"- workshop demo - 6x8" (sold)

Robert Genn just wrote a great post on perfectionism, and how we are unique in our ability to either use it to our advantage (adaptive) or let it wreak havoc in our painting lives (maladaptive).  Check out his post - he offers up some great tips for addressing the issue.

Confusion Endurance - What It Is

His post has prompted me to write about a topic I have been contemplating for a while now. I recently read a book called "How to Think Like Leonardo DaVinci". In it the author states that all successful creative people have one thing in common, something that DaVinci had in spades: it's the quality of confusion endurance. LOVE this term, it is absolutely brilliant and it is something every artist can benefit from developing further.

Confusion endurance is the ability to get curious and roll up your sleeves when presented with a problem to which the solution is not readily apparent, as opposed to avoiding, procrastinating, getting anxious or just plain shutting down in the face of confusion.

How Confusion Gets in Our Way

From both personal experience, and what I have observed cropping up in the painting world of most of my clients, I feel I can safely declare this to be the number one reason for a lack of flow and momentum in our studio work.

I believe the need to check email, surf the web, put on a load of laundry, take the dog for a third walk in the middle of our painting day (or perhaps as a means of delaying getting started in the first place) - can be directly attributed to avoiding that uncomfortable feeling of being confused, stuck, or unsure of how to proceed - and lacking faith that we have the answer within us.

It's not so much that we don't have the answer immediately available, it's the idea that we should have that has us swinging into the world of panic, discomfort and unworthiness - or as  Robert likes to call it, the "Imposter Syndrome".

A Better Approach
What if we met the discomfort head on, with a sense of adventure and exploration, and a focus on this moment - rather than what might or might not happen as an end result?

Painting asks us to cultivate our capacity to be with confusion, to not label it as a problem or something to move away from, but rather a spacious place where all kinds of wonderful, currently unknown things are possible.

If we bring that, and a judgment-free faith in our own creative process, trusting that all we need is a desire to try things out and see where they lead - then open-hearted curiosity can take precedence over the idea that the goal is to be clever, skillful or accomplished enough to have it all figured out now.

A note from my other world:

I am co-facilitating a Women's Retreat in Canmore on November 17th and 18th. The focus will be on gaining tools to address conflict from a place of clarity and authenticity, strengthening your ability to respond from a place of wisdom rather than react from fear when triggered, and shifting limiting perspectives to ones that are empowering and filled with possibility. If you're interested in more details please follow this link.

25 Truisms of Plein Air Painting

"Warm in the Storm"
Oil on linen - 8x10"
(sold)

This was painted on a gray, blustery day this summer. Didn't plan on putting all the colour in, just kinda went that way.

This post is inspired by lots of personal experience - including some masterful whining - and from noticing, in teaching over a hundred plein air students this summer, that for artists new to the plein air game, there seems to be an idea that it is supposed to be, hmmm - easier.

25 Truisms of Plein Air Painting

1. There will be rain.
2. You will be cold.
3. There will be sun.
4. You will be hot.
5. It will be windy.
6. Your easel will fly.
7. Bugs will bite you. Right on the back of your neck just as you are laying in the key highlight on the water.
8. People, curious people with no sense of personal boundaries, will appear from out of nowhere behind you and enthusiastically exclaim, "Hey! Can I see what yer doin'?" Usually just as your painting has entered the ugly duckling stage.
9. You will fight with your gear.
10. Your gear will win. 
11. You will bring way too much stuff.
12. You'll vow to downsize.
13. It will take a very, very, very long time for this to occur.
14. Your painting will look nothing like what's in front of you. Most of the time. This can be good. This can be bad.
15. You will learn and grow and improve each time you go out.
16. It won't feel like it.
17. You will feel frustrated, lost, confused, hopeless and very much like a total beginner. Alot.
18. You'll feel like you will never get it.
19. You will get it. 
20. You will develop superpowers of sight.
21. You will build character.
22. You'll have rich experiences that will turn into treasured memories.
23. You'll deepen friendships through the bond of shared adventure.
24. There will be a sense of passion, joy, peace, inspiration, connection, and wonder available to you every time you go out.
25. 24 is the very best part. And the easiest to lose sight of. Unless you forget easy, forget comfortable, forget outcome; and tune in to that.

Upcoming Portrait Workshop

"Moyra and Mary" - oil on linen - 16x20"

I will be teaching a 4 day portrait workshop in my Canmore studio this November.

The focus is to help you to really step up your game around seeing and accurately recreating what's in front of you. Our attention will be on:

• careful drawing based on seeing your subject as a series of clear, simplified shapes 
• making value and colour choices that come from accurately seeing the temperature changes that exist within the light and shadow areas of the subject
• how to use a variety of hard and soft edges to turn form in a convincing way

For details and registration, please click here.

The Joy of Unpredictability

"Passing Through Queens" - 12x24" - Oil on linen
Juried into the 2012 OPA Regional Exhibition and awarded Best Landscape in the 2013 AIRS Annual International Representational Show.

Do you ever find that in your painting world, and in life - when things start to go sideways your response is to get constricted and anxious? And that this is usually followed by focusing on what you don't like about what's unfolding, and how you need to fix it, change it or stop it?

In my coaching practice I often work with my clients around developing the skill of flowing versus resisting when the wheels start falling off. This is a tool that serves us in every aspect of our lives, and I recently had a great chance to work with it myself.

The Curve Ball

I was in New York city with a few friends and we set out one evening to go to a Broadway show. We decided that taking the subway would be infinitely faster than trying to get a cab at rush hour, and headed down to the nearest station to jump on a train.

During the ride some lovely New Yorkers (don't let them tell you they're not friendly - and they will try to) engaged with us in a conversation that led to the fact that we were on the wrong train, going in the opposite direction of Broadway. Yep, we were headed for Queens, speeding farther away by the second from our $200 seats for a show that started in 30 minutes.

The Choice

This was certainly a situation that warranted panic, and one of my companions slowly, quietly took charge of that department, while also managing to join forces with the other who had taken on the necessary role of recalculating the steps needed to get us to the show on time, with a grace and composure that was admirable I might add.

Since these two roles were covered, I opted for embracing the experience of being lost in New York City, hurtling entirely away from the intended direction of travel, and blissfully uncertain if we would make it to the show or have some other wonderful adventure in its place. Into the land of wild curiosity, wide open to possibility - exactly where the really great stuff happens.

The Magic

As we leapt off the train at Queens and were racing down the platform to catch our next train, we were gifted with the sight of the gorgeous evening sun shining through the city and bouncing off the tracks, wrapped up in a moment of perfect composition that we were running at top speed away from in order to get somewhere else.

I was fortunate enough to have my camera with me and managed to capture the critical details on the fly. I LOVED painting this piece, my first of New York, and one that wouldn't be if we hadn't gotten lost. In the end we made the show, and I got one of my favourite pieces of reference from the trip. And now to top it off, it's been juried into a really great show.

Always good to roll with the magic.