Beyond Making Pretty

When I first began painting as an adult, I wanted to make pretty pictures. And I wanted approval from others. But then, that’s also the story of my life—my old life.

I grew up thinking myself plain and generally just not good enough. Hoping to enhance my life, I embarked upon a path of living up to others’ standards. To some extent it worked, too. Repressing my individuality, in the hopes of gaining favor, was ultimately hard, unfulfilling work. The real me languished (except occasionally bursting forth as tears or rage).

My early attempts at making pretty artwork followed this pattern. I’d start off with a pleasing enough picture, but then the paint would drip somewhere I hadn’t intended or for the life of me, I couldn’t make a figure right. Despite attempts at controlling the painting and making pretty, I felt frustrated.

Then I learned to let it be—to incorporate the unruly paint drips, my mistakes, and even my uncertainty into the painting. I learned to accept that the figure I painted had a right to its own life, even if it had little anatomical precedence in the annals of science. Learning to love and accept myself as I am in the now moment—whether I sing off key or am simply fabulous—followed on the heels of accepting how parts of myself emerged on canvas.

Remarkably, I began to feel better about my paintings. My artwork began to speak to me of buried dreams, righteous indignation, and tell revealing stories. I discovered that the more I let my tears and rage, as well as my joy and frivolity have life on paper without judgment, not only did I view my paintings differently, I viewed life differently, and began to live my life with more authenticity and courage. In fact, I became (and am becoming) better able to connect with and articulate my real needs and get those needs met.

I enjoy making pretty art. But as a goal in and of itself, pretty can be soulless and unenergetic. I have learned that focusing on making pretty could mask an inner voice that makes me uncomfortable. However, discomfort is sometimes a signal that growth is forthcoming. When Soul is the vehicle of expression, even pretty is transformed into the sublime.