Because I haven’t released a new painting in a while, I did not want to publish yet another post promising something new down the road. So, here’s a new piece: a weary-looking grizzly bear in the snow. I’m calling it Bedtime.
I had planned on sharing a different painting this week. Here’s why that changed.
Over the past twenty-plus years of my art career, both as a syndicated editorial cartoonist and a digital painter, there have been plenty of times when something I’ve drawn hasn’t worked out the way I had planned.
The beauty of digital drawing and painting is that it’s often easier to fix mistakes. I can create a new layer, play around and experiment; if I don’t like it, I delete it and try a different direction. Most creatives are familiar with happy accidents, something unexpected that improves an image. It happens all the time.
There’s always an element of discovery in any illustration or painting.
On the flip side, an image can sometimes become an exercise in frustration. Years ago, a bighorn sheep painting had me pulling out my hair. No matter what I did, I couldn’t get the curl of the horns to look right. They were either too flat, distorted, or just wrong, and every time I messed with them, I’d have to spend hours repainting the detailed texture I ruined.
It’s hardly a unique story. Every artist I know goes through this. For traditional artists who paint with oil, acrylic, watercolour or airbrush, it’s even worse. Sometimes, they try to fix something that isn’t working and get to a point where they’ve just ruined any chance of recovery. The canvas ends up in the trash, and they start over.
I began a painting of a group of Ring-tailed Lemurs months ago. I thought it would be finished this summer and again this week. I can’t begin to estimate how many hours I’ve spent on this painting. It has been one disappointment after another. But I finally got through the other work and deadlines holding up my progress and recently spent several mornings on it.
I was within what I thought was two or three hours of finishing, then realized I didn’t like it. That’s a hard truth to admit when I have invested so much time into a piece.
On my iPad, I took it to my buddy Derek at Electric Grizzly Tattoo. He’s a talented and skilled artist, and we sometimes ask each other for an unbiased eye. I can always count on his constructive criticism and willingness to help me produce a better piece of art. I do my best to return that generosity in kind, and when asked, offer my own thoughts on his paintings.
While Derek liked the individual faces, he agreed that the composition had problems. It was tough to hear, but it confirmed what I already knew.
After I got home, I spent a couple of hours messing with it, still trying to save it. But it was a gut-punch realization that I’d almost have to start from scratch. If I released the painting as is, knowing the obvious problems, even if others like it, I would hate it every time I looked at it.
So, while I’m not quite back at square one, it’s close. I’ve been sketching over the piece and trying new things, and I’m already much happier with the composition.
Reworking it, however, meant destroying what I had already painted. I must redo all the fur and hair, the detail in the muzzles and eyes, and add other elements that weren’t there before.
Whenever I finish the newer version, I will share more about this process, including what specifically I didn’t like and my thoughts on what I needed to change. I will also show you the piece I showed Derek and share why we both felt it didn’t work. But I don’t want to do that until I reveal the finished piece so you can see the comparison.
Anytime you do something creative, there’s a chance it won’t work. Authors have had to discard whole chapters and rehash plotlines when an editor has their way with a novel. Chefs have prepared complicated and ultimately inedible meals from experimental recipes. Filmmakers have spent years creating box office bombs.
As Benjamin Franklin said, “I didn’t fail the test; I just found 100 ways to do it wrong.”
If you’re not prepared to fail, you’ll never succeed.
So, I set the lemurs aside this week and began this bear piece on Tuesday as a palate cleanser before I jump back into the other works in progress I have yet to complete, including those lemurs.
Because when life hands you lemons, paint a grizzly bear.
That’s the saying, right?
Well, it works for me.
This Thursday, I’ll be one of 150 vendors setting up for the Banff Christmas Market. That evening, a locals’ preview event is already sold out. After that, from Friday to Sunday for the next four weeks, you’ll find me in my booth at the Banff Train Station, offering prints, calendars, coasters, magnets and stickers. Tickets are only available in advance on their website, and they go quickly, especially on Saturdays. I hope to see you there.
Thanks to so many of you who have purchased calendars already. I’ve been getting those orders out as soon as they come in, so if you’re waiting for yours, they’re on the way. If you still want one (or two, three, four…you get the idea), you can get them in the store while supplies last.
Cheers,
Patrick
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