How to Hang Loose and Paint Freely
I am often asked by other artists how I am able to be so free in my painting. How does one stop over-controlling the paintbrush, fearful of "doing it right" and "not messing up"? This same question could be asked about any field where physical skill is involved. How does a tennis player hit freely, for example?
It takes trust and confidence to be free. Trust in the part of your brain that is not handing out verbal instructions like "Watch out, that color might not work, don't you think it should be a darker tint?" Or, "Turn to the side, bend your knees, racket back."
OK, I'll drop the tennis analogy. Missing a shot is not the same thing as destroying a canvas. Yet, we have to be willing to do just that in order to paint freely. If we always listen to the logical, verbal part of our brain, we'll keep painting what's worked in the past and never color outside the lines.
There is such a thing as being "in the flow" where you are not consciously directing yourself, but letting it happen. It is still "you" making the decisions and controlling the paint, but not the part of you that brags about it. So the trick is finding access to that artist, the one who is just reacting to the colors and forms without making judgments about the results.
One thing I do to help reach this state is to play loud music while I paint, anything from 60s rock 'n roll to classical violin. Activating the part of my brain that is engaged in appreciating music somehow helps me to quiet the judge and get into the flow. I also stand up when I paint, and use my whole body to create sweeping gestures that leave behind a sense of their movement.
The most dangerous time is when a canvas starts to look good. The tendency is to want to preserve what's there, not take a chance on destroying it. And sometimes that will make me tight. That's when I remind myself that destroying a painting and making a mess is perfectly fine. If we never destroy the pretty beginnings, that's all we'll ever end up with.
Sometimes, it's only after I've given up on a painting and figured there's no way to make it work, that I discover the way through. "I'm throwing away good paint after bad," I think, but go ahead and do it anyway. That's all I have to lose, after all, is paint. Even when I stare at a canvas and say, "I have no idea what to do," if I just start with the first brush stroke, and then the second, before long I am just responding, in the flow of that particular painting's needs.
If you find yourself stuck, up-tight, unable to loosen up, give yourself an assignment: paint the worst painting you can imagine. If it starts to look good, destroy it. Make a mess. Make another mess. Keep making messes until you exhaust that critic in your head.
Here's another exercise: Make ten paintings, but destroy nine of them. Make another ten paintings and destroy nine of them. If you know you're going to destroy nine out of every ten paintings you make, maybe it won't be so hard to loosen up a little?
