I Let the Camera Roll Anyway

Painting, intuition, and learning to stop editing myself

I never know where creative inspiration is going to reveal itself to me. And, I was greatly surprised when I used the colors of a chair in my studio to inspire my latest painting, aptly titled, Ode to the Chair.

Now this chair is not fancy in any way. We found it, and its sibling, at Goodwill last year for about $50 for the pair. How can you pass that up?

I do love the colors. Shades of brown and a lovely blueish teal, which translated to Burnt Umber, Raw Umber, Burnt Siena, and more. I find myself staring at it often, mesmerized by the swirls.

Duh, I love circles and swirls! How did I not connect this before? Well, now I have.

For this painting, I decided to create a video of my process. I am not new to video creation, but I am new to painting video creation. I wasn’t nervous, but I was concerned it would turn out to be a pile of crap by the time I was done. Of course I did.

And was it? Of course it was not. Someday, I will shake the need to catastrophize everything.

As I started the painting, I reminded myself that I had two goals:

• Quiet the chorus of thoughts in my head so I could hear my intuition.

• Have fun.

Oh, and I guess a third goal would be not to mentally beat myself up as much as I normally do.

I wasn’t sure if I would be “performing” for the camera or would get into my groove and not let anything deter my creativity. Knowing the camera is there add and element of performance, for sure. I think any human would feel that. But I also knew much of the video would be sped up, which made me feel just a bit less self-conscious. However, I feel I must admit these things that make me cringe a bit, but I am steadfast in my desire to be “real.”

• I do not like how I look with my hair up. However, I also do not like getting paint in my hair or hair on my canvas.

• I am really starting to look like my 59 years, and I don’t like seeing that. Well, the more I see, the more I will get used to it.

• I have no makeup on, and that makes me cringe somewhat, too. Again, repetition will bring acceptance.

• And lastly, I don’t like how my body looks “squishy” around my back, but I will get over that.

Other than all those things, I feel like I was very much in the flow for this painting, but a small part of me kept thinking about the rolling camera.

I have been watching other artists, either via videos, shows, or their websites, for over five years now, and I have been constantly comparing myself to them. I know. Not a good thing to do, but hey, I did it anyway.

If I were watching them to gain knowledge of techniques (which I am on some level), that would be healthy and good as long as I did not adopt their style as my own. But mostly, I think I use those videos as a way to reinforce in myself that I am different, that my art is different, which translates into a lack of confidence and trust in myself.

All the comparisons I have sought out have caused me to spend many hours trying to reconcile the fact that my paintings do not look like anything else I have seen, yet. On the one hand, this makes me happy that I am unique, and on the other hand, it terrifies me that I will never fit in. Even though I desperately want to be unique and different, I find myself questioning whether my style is “worthy,” and I find myself berating myself for not “fitting in” far too often. It’s a vicious cycle.

I am working on breaking that cycle.

Lately, I have been analyzing this cycle, and I have discovered that accessing and expressing my creativity is critical to me. I want to know what I can create, not what I can emulate.

I want to be different. I want my art to be unique.

So that means I have to come to terms with being an outlier. Which, for the most part, I have been my whole life, even though I have fought intently.

I am at the point now that I know I must concede, accept, and make peace with who I really am.

I am an outlier. I am a bit weird. I am unique.

And because of that, I am not going to fit in everywhere. People are not going to rush to my website or booth to buy my work. And you know what? That’s okay. Really.

If my underlying goal or drive is to coax out of myself the most creativity I can conjure up, then of course, I cannot want to be “mainstream” or liked by everyone.

And that’s okay, I think. I have not yet arrived at complete acceptance. But I will.

I cannot be anyone other than Victoria. And, at the end of the day, if I don’t like who I am or what I produce, I can make changes. What I can’t do is try to be someone I am not. If I do, I will not be creative or very happy. For much of my life, I was the Victoria others needed me to be, and I will not go back.

When the desire to conform so I will be liked hits me, I will not go back.

When I see others selling art when I am not, I will not go back.

When I think my work is inferior because it is so different, I will not go back.

Stepping into your own unique creative space is not easy, nor is it a linear path. I have been working my way in this direction for five years, and now that I am closer to “here,” I am feeling the creativity bubble up inside me. It needs to be released onto the canvas, and finally, I think I am ready to let it flow.

My first “recorded” painting, Ode to the Chair, makes me very happy when I look at it. Doing the voice-over for the video allowed me to revisit the processes, and I really enjoyed it. It gave me the opportunity to immerse myself in my own work, looking from the outside, and seeing the amazingness I was creating. It’s a wonderful perspective that has changed how I look at my painting.

If you’d like to see how this painting came together, the video is below…

After this experience, I’m learning that my creativity doesn’t require certainty. It requires permission. Permission to be seen, to be imperfect, to be different, and to keep going anyway.

This painting gave me that permission. And for the first time in a long while, I’m not rushing to the next thing or judging what I’ve done. I’m simply letting it be what it is, and letting myself be who I am while I make it.

I’m excited to see where the next painting takes me—and I’m grateful you’re here for the journey.