Slow it down: a case for taking your creative time
My handmade mixed media journals expectantly waiting for some quality time.
The Reminder
A fellow artist's Tiktok post about how art takes time has been stuck in my head for the past few weeks. Though unassuming and straightforward, the message has been hounding me in the shower, the car, the grocery store. I'm typing it out now so that maybe I can integrate the lesson and move forward.
The Pressure
I think the reason the reminder was so potent is because it's so counter to typical societal messaging. We live in an age where we're all expected to be robots with infinite energy and stamina, pumping out a barrage of content, products, and ground-breaking ideas, not to mention the human work of everyday life. There's this prevalent yet covert contract that we must constantly produce or become obsolete. How many times have I rushed a layer of my watercolor painting and risked the vibrancy of the piece just so I could feel as though I'd accomplished something? How many afternoons spent practicing a new technique have ended in disappointment because I didn't create anything display-worthy? This type of thinking completely dismisses the small steps made along the journey. It overlooks the technical achievements, steadiness, and vision you build as an artist and as a person.
A smattering of doodles, paintings, pastel work, and collage. There’s never time unless you take it.
The Practice
I think a key element to a rich creative life (and life in general) is to let yourself and your world unfold in their own time. A rushed journey often ends in frustration leaving you to wonder what might have been. The length of time to complete a project is not a reflection on your inherent worth. Art is a process that takes consistent effort to bring to life. Would you judge your houseplant for not growing two inches in one day? No. That would be ridiculous, especially if you were withholding a key element, like light. The same principle applies here.
So, while I’ve embraced this sentiment, I also want to put it into practice. There are two ways I plan to do this. The first way is through debriefing. After each creative session, I'll ask myself a few simple questions. How was this as an experience? What was most challenging? What was most satisfying? What experience do you want tomorrow? The goal is to focus on the process rather than the outcome. That will hopefully lead to less pressure to produce and deeper engagement with the art itself.
My latest attempt at art journal making. I want to have sturdier pages for acrylic paint, so I’m using an old book, archival Mod Podge to glue pages together, and acrylic gesso to prepare the surface.
Secondly, I'd like to keep a daily art journal. I've started many art journals (see photos above), but I’ve usually ended up drifting away from the practice because I’ve felt the daily page to be just another piece of artwork to complete. This time around, I'm going to allow myself to work through each idea at my own pace. For example, instead of filling an entire page with flowers, maybe I just practice drawing petals in the corner. Maybe instead of racing to complete a mini landscape that is hasty but social media worthy, I test color palette and blending ideas first. I can hone in on one or two aspects each day and build on that little by little. Who knows, it may go in a direction only slow movement through time and space can create. I'd like to find out what that version of my art looks like.
Where do you need to slow down in your life or art practice? Share your thoughts and plans in the comments below!