While preparing my paintings for the Shorewood Artists Guild show, I pulled everything out in front of me, all my curly papers gathered together for the first time. Little paintings, bigger paintings, big pieces that failed, sweet little unfinished pieces I had been disappointed with that now look so good, piles and piles of work. I’m so proud of the work I’ve done, the skills I’ve learned, the commitment I’ve kept to my late night art desk.
Painting, for me, is an exercise in hope. Hope that I’ll get it right next time, hope that the magical mistakes will indeed be magical, hope that a little more practice will firm up that new skill, hope that my people will LIKE my paintings. I’ll admit it, I paint for likes. I paint for myself, but also for the outer world, to say, hey, I’m here and I’m hoping you like me. All of us want that, in some way.
Validation.
Acknowledgement of our experience, our struggle, our pain, and our wins! Validation. It’s the gift and the curse. Powerfully uplifting when we receive it, devastating and corrosive when it’s missing. Why do we feel invisible without it?
I’m working on validating myself, thank you Therapy. I’ve chased validation for a long time, in my identity as a “real artist”, now it’s here and I feel great. Proud, energized, motivated and so supported. The art show night was a big win for me.
And, as life likes to do, it reminded the very same week that some validation we may never receive, despite how hard we try. Letting go of that hope is hard and sad. For me, that feeling cannot be painted over, it will likely linger for a long time. But I can stop begging for that “like”. That hope has to go.
But I can be proud that I was just as committed, did the work, and tried to improve my skills. Sometimes the canvas just isn’t there.