Procrastinate
Procrastination In Art
I have never finished a single thing that I did not begin (did someone else say that?). I want to finish what I start, but the start of a new work sometimes, many times, has more delays and false starts than a track meet for narcoleptics.
In my own efforts, there are three things that I need absolute clarity on before I can begin a work and see it through.
They are the purpose, the idea, and the mess.
The purpose is the “why”
The idea is the “what”
The mess is the “how”
The work is done when I have formed a mess into shapes, values, and colors that - as simply as possible - convey the idea (moods, phrases, shapes, and proportions) while keeping hold of the purpose (my personal inspiration).
If I begin with a really clear idea and try to be exacting at the start (avoid the mess), I end up frustrated because of the stiffness and lack of honesty.
If I begin with a beautiful mess just to get going but lose touch with the purpose, I make work with no spine, no honesty.
If I have a driving purpose - something that really matters to me - but cannot articulate the idea in simple terms, I am confounded by a lingering feeling that I am not good enough and why should I bother.
A clear purpose, a simple idea, and a mess.
To begin a painting, I obliterate the untouched linen surface by either applying thin, runny paint and then wiping it off to stain the surface, or I begin drawing a loose layout of the shapes and divisions. (Usually a stain then a layout.) This looks like the first step in painting, as it is the first time any paint has touched the surface, but really, I have started the painting long before setting down to paint.
Writers can relate, I’m sure. The heart is always ahead of the hand.
Why write? No one needs what we do. No one is reading. Why paint? No one cares about it. No one is collecting. (Let the reader understand…)
If I really think like that (and I do), then why do it?
Purpose. Somehow the work is linked to prayer. It’s hard to articulate, but it's a strong enough push that drives me to work, that compels me. I have the belief that life has purpose and meaning. That makes all the difference. I’m not sure what the purpose of anything is if we are just cosmic burps.
What about ideas? There is nothing new…
That is true. We live in a sliver of time. People living with us today haven’t been exposed to all the great ideas that have energized humanity throughout the ages. We have but a few years, and that time is taken up by trying to stay out of ditches. We don’t have a lot of exposure to different ideas, so what we do is needed now as much as ever in human history. We don’t use our parents’ calendars. We get new ones. New day, new people, new-to-them ideas.
The mess is the reconnection of our bodies to our ideas and purpose. For painters, the kickstart they need after a slump is just putting out paint and mixing it around. No pressure. It's just paint - brushes gliding over the palette, mingling pigment and oil. Beautiful swirls and surprises. Little impossibilities being worked out. The lean but limber state before applying experience and letting perfection take a back seat.
For writers, the mess would be the same lean and limber state that comes from holding the pencil, hearing the sound made by writing. Keyboard sounds for some, typewriter sounds for others. This physicality is so important. We are body and spirit. Beautiful messes.
So that’s how I deal with procrastination.
I use an imperfect, messy start full of sensory touchstones to ground me in reality.
I work from the mess to remember that perfection is a lie.
I allow the messy imperfection to help clarify the idea (the first idea isn’t always the best)
I constantly check my progress against my purpose. “The why will get you to the how.” - Dawn Whitelaw
Dispassion Defeats Procrastination
The danger isn’t just delayed progress or missing deadlines, but the subtle way this emptiness turns my eye onto myself, increasing my self-centeredness and the accompanying thoughts of vain insignificance.
Most of us are guilty of spending too much time scrolling social media simultaneously happy and depressed. We are happy because we love art - good art of all kinds. It is amazing to so easily see inside studios or see what a writer has to say. As someone who occasionally paints, I’ll post some works, some good, as a kind of journal, but I find it all too easy to really want people to like my pictures, my posts. I even hope people will positively react to images that I know aren’t great. Same is true here on Substack.
If I’m not biting my lip over my last post, I am sinking into a stupor over the great work I do see. The sinking thoughts approach like a nurse with bad news.
How did I get here? Where did these unrealistic expectations come from? When was I poisoned? Whodunnit? How do I get OUT of here?
Vanity. What’s it all for? These kinds of thoughts are debilitating. From my experience, stepping away for a while - a self-imposed period of purposeful procrastination - is a great way to turn off the negativity and turn on progress.
Dispassion
When a work is done or nearly done, it doesn’t feel like a runner crossing the finish line, lungs heaving, body bent or sprawled, triumphant. It is a forced acquiescence. It feels like a sentence hanging in the air - the emdash of the process. You get the point of that sentence, but more could be said. I am happy to have the next thing to move on to, but I also want to look back just a few more times…just to be sure. I want it to be the bird that grew up and flew the nest.
This is where separation is valuable. A painter may set a work aside in a location where they can only give passing glances to the work in limbo or some may turn its face to the wall for months or longer. These glances, these side-eye passes from the hallway are crucial. Our minds can build up a picture from glances in the way a friend can lovingly, patiently drop tiny hints about something I’ve done wrong.
Writers can shelve a work for a week or two. Put the work in a drawer. Turning it upside down to get a different perspective as a painter may do won’t help…I don’t think.
A few things that I have done in my purposeful procrastinations to help get clear and get moving and come back fresh:
Break something - keep something you are working on as an experimental piece. Try out different arrangements, techniques, and processes on this. Let it all out.
Remember the sensual part of your work. Just mix colors. Put pencil to paper. Hear the sound of it, feel the tool in your hand. Try to remember the most simple joys of what you are doing. Make it prayer. We are body and spirit, after all.
Teach.
Experiment with materials.
Spend some time thinking about what you do not like about famous works.
Remember that you are writing your life.
Whatever is done, distance from the work is good and will make the work better as it cultivates dispassion and acts like passing rain that clears the atmosphere.
I used to take lengthy breaks after finishing a painting. It seemed natural at the time. I believe the distance cultivated honesty among the voices inside that push and pull in one direction or another. So many voices. So many examples to follow from books we read, how-to articles, workshops…so many voices, and we need a break from them.
Read a book. Walk the dog more. Take hikes. Make your own supper. Plan your Christmas spending. Write to a friend. Binge watch a show.
Do anything except return to the work without a plan, without a direction of travel - see “when to quit” below
Good procrastination can clear our minds, sharpen our self-criticism, and toughen us up. No one is looking for us. The silence after a work is done is proof. No one calls us excitedly begging to get a preview of our next article or painting. If we show up on Instagram or YouTube, yes, we may get a little positive feedback, but the numbers are always lower that we want. On Substack, it is the same. People are most interested in their own lives (shocker) and a time away from showing any work may be just the thing we need to remind us of what is actually important. No one is clamoring for us, and if they are, they deserve a well-considered piece of work.
My time away from painting is often filled with learning about writing a story. (I’d like to write a novel before I die.) It is a good distraction that still offers creative challenges and nourishment. I may watch a couple of movies that I’d forgotten I wanted to see or just spend more time outside.
Whatever you choose to do, make it like prayer. Do it with purpose. Don’t let life be something that happens to you.
When To Quit
We are coached to persevere, to work through problems. Inspirational quotes fuel us for an hour or two, but at some point we have to weigh the cost of the time spent figuring something out against just starting over with new ideas.
No one wants to be a quitter. We want to fight, to overcome. The struggle is what strengthens us - a chick against the egg, a butterfly against the cocoon, a son against bitterness, a daughter against expectations - all are made better by continuing to struggle against the things that seemingly restrict us.
I want to keep every painting and have the original purpose shine through in glorious layers, velvet ridges and colorful shapes - translations of a language that I’m learning.
But most times, I am just not poet enough to call out the beauty.
Many of my efforts end up lacking the luster, vibrance, and fullness of the vision. Calling forth physicality from the ether is a translation process, and I am a poor translator, a poor conductor of the richness found when plundering the depths of my inner man.
How do I know when it is time to quit?
We have limited resources. Limited panels to paint on, limited time in the day, limited time before a deadline, limited focus, limited patience with external forces, and limited abilities. Therefore, I need to think through the following things in order to make a decision:
Am I too close?
I need to be completely objective about the work. What follows depends on my truthfulness with myself - no time for emotional attachments. If I lose the ability to see the physical product apart from the intellectual and emotional parts, then I need to (at the very least) stop working. I may just set it aside for a while and return (like I mentioned in the previous post on procrastination), but distance is needed in any case. Distance and dispassion. Our minds and our hearts can lead us far astray if they are not masterfully coordinated with skill. Few of us have this mastery.
Is the end product worth it?
I need to know if what I’m struggling with will provide the payoff that I want if I keep pouring energy into it. If the payoff isn’t really good - if I only break even in quality and satisfaction - then I need to scale back. I need to move on from the energy suck. Perhaps a smaller painting or shorter writing would fit better. Brevity solves a lot of problems. DO GOOD WORK, but match energy with the return.
If the payoff is negligible - scale back or quit.
I feel like a concrete example here would help. I have a big show coming up. I can submit up to 6 works but must submit 3 larger works. Because of the limitations mentioned earlier, I need to pour a LOT of time and energy into my 3 main pieces while maintaining good quality in the smaller 3 pieces. Knowing that the 6 pieces cannot get equal time, I spend quite a lot of time choosing what images can be done in a weekend and what images need a month. They will all be the best I can do, but they do not all get the same attention. As I said, brevity solves a lot of problems. Plus, I may not even be able to complete 3 smaller ones. I may only get to 1 or 2. I may have to quit the idea of 6 so that the 3 main works can be their best.
Next - Is the love gone?
When I look at my work, I know if it has the energy of skill and truth within it. It can be felt. If it is easier and easier to ignore, consider moving on. Life is short. Not everything is a lesson in perseverance. Sometimes we just start out with passion and realize that it was just a fling. It would have been better as a short story, a poem, even, and not a novel. It would have been a better 6x10 instead of a 24x42.
If the love is gone - quit.
Am I at Peace?
Has the work negatively impacted my peace - my sleep, my patience, my mood? If so, step away or quit. We are more than our work.
We are all trying to use material things to reach for the timeless immaterial, the vapor of the breath of God.
So, these are the things I think of when contemplating quitting a work.
Quitting can be good and productive. It can move us toward the path we need to be on instead of the one we were infatuated with. Quitting can help reveal our true love, straighten our priorities, and give us peace.
Summary:
Procrastination happens. It can be good. Quitting is appropriate sometimes. Apologies for grammar and logical errors. And WOW, a lot of text. A LOT of text. No pictures. Wow.