Success & Failure

The really great thing about art is that there is seldom TOTAL failure in what the artist does. Of course, the oppositte is true for the novice: there is seldom perfection. Whether we are writers, artists, or cooks, most everything we do is a combination of success and failure. No matter how much we would like for our work to be simply the best WE can produce, sometimes the best we can do is LEARN from what we've attempted. As Richard McKinley says and as Preston King continues to remind us ME!!), not every painting is "precious."  So it is with writing as well. Not every poem "sings" and cliches work themselves in despite my best efforts. Do I always take the time to revise? More so than I used to, but not as much as I should. The key is still what I always told my students, what I still tell myself: hang in there. Persistence is not the only reward. In attempts we make, we are still happier and more gratified for the effort. If we were ever to reach perfection, what then? I shudder at the expectations. No . . . I paint. I write. I make mistakes. I learn. I try again. Not a bad cycle. Hakuna Matata. No worries.

I'll post the last painting I attempted, with notes, as soon as I take a picture of it. The notes will help me remember what I learned.

In the meantime, I decided to work on preliminary watercolors today, in my watercolor journal each student received in the workshop this past fall. The efforts here are not meant to be finish products, but help to capture the color, general shapes, values of  the subject. Adjustments can be made before putting pastel to paper. And there's something . . . nice  . . . about work that one knows does NOT have to be "right" or "perfect" going in. It's like a rough draft for a piece of writing. I can take it or leave it, change it, or refine it.

The Mailbox:

 

 

Clouds (NOTE: I LOVE skies and clouds; my dad used to call me and ask if I had seen the sunset, because on some evening, it was simply beautiful. I missed a lot of sunsets. These days, I see many sunrises and afternoon clouds. Following the watercolor is the original picture, taken from my phone; I mention that because they are NOT as similar as one might wish. Such is life.)

 

 

 

All I can say is that in my next life, when I come back slim--no, SVELTE--and organized, and everything else I'm not now, I'm going to have a camera phone with more than 3 megapixels. LOL!!