Lately, I’ve realized the truth of the statement that patience is a virtue. Historically, my gut instinct has been to be impatient with myself, including the painting process, when in reality creating artwork takes time. And I have finally reached the stage of acceptance.
Shown here is the tropical painting with its first coat of oil paint. I realized that the initial drawing on canvas needed massive improvement, such as taller palm trees. I redrew the iguana and will use raw umber paint to redraw the parrot and flower after this coat dries. I will be making many changes, such as adding ample clouds. While the top of the tall palm tree is yellowish-green for now, it will ultimately be a lush green; I just painted the top of the tree using yellow for my own frame of reference, so I don’t lose sight of where the tree’s top is.
I covered most of the canvas with paint. The bottom of the painting draft right now is blah, but I envision lots of greenery there. After all, it’s a tropical scene, and I’ve committed to go fully tropical.
I feel it’s easy to get lost as I work on this painting, but with deep breaths and unflappable calm, I know it will improve and I’m in control. I just need patience in abundance.
And I find that as I keep painting works of art, I am more and more patient and in tune with my artistic process. Oil paint is a forgiving medium, allowing for mistakes to be corrected over and over again. This medium also takes a long time to dry, thus testing the artist’s patience. A good approach for oil painters is to create one painting and then work on the next one while the first one is drying, then work on the next one, and so on, and then back to the first now-dried painting for reworking. I’ve started doing this again, and knowing that I can paint whenever I want is liberating.
I need to apply the calm I feel when painting to my medical issues of late. My back has been in pain for at least a month; the steroid and muscle relaxer aren’t doing the trick, so my physician has ordered X-rays of my lower spine. And I find my mind is overcome with irrational fears about what could be wrong with my back, as well as being impatient to feel better soon.
I need to apply the calm I have when creating art to the medical wait-and-see process. When it comes to art, I am calmly willing to wait and see what unfolds. Unfortunately, it is so much more difficult to endure the medical procedures, as they get more invasive. At the back of my mind is the ugliness I don’t want to think about. But I’ll state it here: I wonder if cancer is back. Once someone has had cancer, it seems that every ache and pain assails the patient.
When it comes to medical issues, my PTSD jumps full-force to worst case scenarios, and I am filled with catastrophic thoughts. And it doesn’t help when medical staff plant ideas into my fragile mind. Before I saw my doctor last week, the nurse’s assistant told me that she had a personal history of herniated disks, and that it’s a major problem nowadays. Then she left me alone in the examination room with my overactive mind and imagination for 20 minutes – panicking and shaking. No doubt, her telling me her own medical story was inappropriate.
I need to toughen up, though. I feel so fragile when I see doctors. I need to deep breathe and practice the patience I’ve culled through the practice of oil painting.
Hi Beth,
I had no idea you could paint over an oil painting. That has to be a real plus. But then, the waiting for the drying must be hard. Good idea to start several and keep rotating. I'm sorry to hear you back is still bothering you. My husband has been dealing with back pain for two weeks and we landed in the ER yesterday. Finding some relief now. And peace of mind. I hope the x-rays of your lower back reveal nothing sinister. I'm sorry you were left in that room feeling so vulnerable. Some medical people are so lacking in empathy. I'll be patiently waiting to hear the results. Also, looking forward to seeing how this painting progresses. Good luck with all of it.
Alene, thank you for your kind words and empathy during this scary time for me. I also hope it's unrelated to cancer, and my rational mind says it can be a bad muscle strain. I try not to go to those dark places, but it's difficult, especially when I have non-empathetic, unprofessional medical personnel tending to me or dumping their own issues onto me. My physician is excellent, but the staff there need empathy training.
Regarding the painting, the iguana was large, so it's the right size. I'm really curious how the painting will turn out. Now, as I give it time to dry, I will work on something else.