Sometimes I have great expectations of my ability. I have always been optimistic, which has served me well until now.
When I paint, I never know exactly what is going to be the final product. Usually, I'm happy with the outcome, with a few exceptions. But, I digress.
A week or two ago, I created a painting I was very enthused about. When I posted it online I received many (very appreciated) positive comments. I also received several emails, texts, and IMs asking to purchase the painting. I was thrilled. Certainly I could reproduce it (at least, one like it). After all, I created it, no doubt, I could create other works very similar.
So I sat down at the same table with the same paints, same colors, and same canvas. Inspiration was not the problem. Recreation was the problem. My first attempt was too pink. My second too orange. I was totally disillusioned by my third attempt. Now I was second guessing my ability. How could I not recreate something I did just a week or so ago?
The answer apparently was: easily.
I paint as a way to relax. I find it is an avenue of expression. However, in cases like this, it is an endeavor of total frustration and humility. What I thought was raw talent, what was true aptitude, ability, and technique, is simply just me and my ego being pretentious, smug, arrogant, grandiose, egotistical, and pompous. It all boils down to pure damn luck.
If you build it they will come, miracles happen to those who believe in them, believe you can and you’re halfway there. None of those who spoke these (so called) words of encouragement were ever a creator of original inspirational visual expression. I justify my work as personal expression in color. Talent is a 'hole 'nuther ball game.
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