An intention can offer a place to begin and can help guide decisions along the way, but there usually comes a time when a painting starts to take on a life of its own, when it seems to be asking for moves that are counter to the original intention. At that point it is important to listen because from then on the work is a dialogue. When the painting stops demanding change it is finished. For me this is the greatest point of uncertainty, when the inner critic with her art school training and knowledge of so-called rules and principles begins to pipe up urging me to tidy up an area or balance the composition with addition or subtraction, to increase or decrease the tonal range. Occasionally she makes good suggestions. At other times her pedantic drive for perfection can kill a painting stone dead. Sometimes I listen, but often I don’t because, even though in the moment some final finessing might appear to have been successful, later, looking back at photographs of earlier stages, it is clear that the painting was better before. Unfortunately, you often don’t know where the line is until you cross it.
I have learned with experience that the nagging critic frequently speaks from a place of fear. Fear of being judged. Fear of appearing not to know how art works – how it’s meant to be. Fear of seeming to not know the ‘rules’. Fear of not being a ‘proper’ artist. As with most high-wire acts, painting is a combination of acquired knowledge, learned skills, experience, sensitivity, intuition and above all courage. When I’m giving my inner critic too much attention I remind myself of how attracted I am to the imperfect, to rust, to peeling paint, to cracked tiles and tangled branches. If a painting feels finished, then it is. It may not be perfect but I celebrate that fact.