Following the Muse

What I'm about to reveal to you should probably embarrass me, but it doesn't. Even in my firmly middle-aged stage of life, I still daydream sometimes about becoming an actress. I'd ideally lead character-driven independent films full of quirk, but also gravity. My movies would reveal both the beauty and tragedy found in everyday life and relationships. And I would deliver the performances with the most subtle facial expressions that would devastate the viewer with the depths of emotion just underneath.

I have loved movies my entire life. In my senior year of high school, once I'd bought a car and was pretty much on my own, I would go to Blockbuster most Friday nights and rent three movies, then watch them all back to back, even if I didn't get off from my job at Dunkin' Donuts until late. It's been a while since I've had a triple feature, but I still love becoming immersed in the worlds and stories that are created for the screen. I've lived hundreds of different lives through the characters I've watched.

I didn't begin to connect my love for films to my own art until recently. I had mentioned to one friend that I loved movies, and I went into detail about how it was all about the acting for me. I told her how fascinated I was with an actors' ability to say a million different things with just a small movement of their eyes, their mouths, a tilt of their head. Later, in a completely different conversation, I mentioned that I drew mainly faces as a kid and teenager. She thoughtfully responded, "Well that makes sense that you would love to draw faces - isn't that what you said you loved about movies?" I was kind of stricken for a second. It was a little piece of the puzzle falling into place. I had been feeling restless with the style I'd been working in, using mainly subjects in nature, and had been seeking a change, but wasn't sure if it was the medium, the style, or subjects I'd been choosing that needed to shift. The idea of transitioning to portraiture sounded great, especially after the little spark I felt when my friend pointed out that I liked faces. However, I spent the next few weeks actively avoiding starting. Each time I thought about it, self-doubt crept in. What if I couldn't live up to my own vision? It was easier to focus on other tasks and call it preparation.

Eventually, the restlessness came to a head, and last week, several things happened all at once. First, I started to work through The Artist's Way, by Julia Cameron (for the third time). She has her readers do something called the morning pages, which she says is essential for unblocking, getting rid of the self-critic, and working through issues, simply through daily stream-of-consciousness writing. They've already helped me uncover hidden truths, generate ideas, and address negative self-talk.

In addition to The Artist's Way, I found an online alla prima oil painting portraiture class and immediately signed up for one of five available spots. It doesn't start until February though, so I kept looking. I found a 30 Faces in 30 Days drawing class that starts in January, and I signed up for that too. I figured I'd relax, enjoy the holidays, and work through The Artist's Way. Taking action toward my goal felt satisfying enough to justify waiting for a class to guide me.

As it turns out, the muse wasn't having it. Even though I didn't feel ready, I had an overwhelming urge to start drawing faces now. Before I could think about it too much, I'd drawn six faces in three days.

Walter Matthau, drawn from the original portrait taken in 1983 by photographer Graziella Vigo.

Bill Murray, drawn from the original portrait taken by photographer Gerhard Kassner.

Some drawings turned out better than others, but I'm a woman possessed. I have truly loved all the art and painting I've done in the past year or so, but I think I have been in the discovery phase, just trying to figure out what I want to paint and why. Now I finally feel that obsession I hear other artists talk about. I'm fitting it in wherever and whenever I can. I am stealing moments to draw whereas before, I had to rely on self-discipline to get me started. Once I start a painting, I can usually get in the flow no matter what. But again, this isn't just flow. It's different. It feels like I've unearthed a buried part of myself - something simple, yet profound.

My realization is that once again, I've avoided doing something out of the fear of failure. Portrait painting seemed unattainable to me, and I hold that type of art in such high regard, that I treated it too preciously. I wouldn't even allow myself to consider it until recently. Once again I had to overcome that fear, and allow myself to be bad at something. And just about every other drawing over the past few days truly has been bad. But I find myself encouraged by some of the outcomes too. Perhaps all the time spent studying proportions in nature and looking at things with artist eyes has imbued me with some of the skills needed to make this transition from a good starting point.

I don't have all the answers. One consistent thing about me is that I constantly crave change. I don't know if I will now paint only faces forever and ever, amen. I don't know if people will buy paintings of strangers' faces. I worry that I won't be able to establish an unique style that sets my art apart. But I think my job is to follow the muse, to discover what's in me, and to let it out in my creativity. I've learned that joy can come in when I close the door on fear, perfection, and expectations. I just need to start, and the rest is up to the Great Creator, Himself.

Have you ever avoided something out of fear of failure, only to find joy when you finally tried? I'd love to hear your story - what was it and how did it change you?