Lessons Learned

Journey to Digital Painting

Lessons Learned, The Journey of An Artist

In the spring of 2022, I decided to take a few of my traditional paintings that didn’t meet my expectations and change them digitally.  I did not have high hopes in the result simply because there was extreme reluctancy in this process. I told myself this was acceptable since it was not fully digital, and it was only to improve my existing paintings, not create new ones.

This was my first digital fix on a watercolor painting from May 7th:

Lone Red Canoe

You can find the painting here.

To my complete surprise, it turned out better than I expected. And I enjoyed the feeling I got when I fixed these traditional paintings. It energized me. It awakened something inside me. It encouraged me to do more. I began fixing more and more paintings. I decided this was still okay because I was simply enhancing my traditional skills.

I was in denial though and secretly eager to do more.

A few weeks later (May 23rd) my sons asked me to redo one of their digital paintings. This is what began the slippery slope—ha!! And how can you turn down a challenge?

Below are two of them:

You can view the shark here.

It wasn’t long before I opened up a blank white canvas and attempted my first entirely digital painting.

Doe at Dusk

You can view and purchase the painting here.

Up until this point, I was convinced that digital painting was in some way dishonest or misleading. In my head I was somehow cheating on my traditional art skills. It felt like I was going against the natural bent inside of me. I was a traditional artist—primarily a watercolorist – and that’s it. Traditional art is what makes me who I am as an artist. I don’t do digital.

Except that………………I really, really enjoyed it……………and I was getting good at it!

What was I supposed to do with this?

Likely you find my perspective bizarre and flawed but regardless there was an unbelievable conflict inside of me. One that I would later come to terms with.

In addition, my digital paintings were not well-received initially which seemed to confirm my unique perspective and drive the internal war deeper. Perhaps part of it is that when you mention digital others tend to think the computer does all the work. That there is no skill involved. (I think cameras initially did the same thing to traditional art as well.) But I assure you, it can actually take longer for me to a digital painting than a traditional one. And because of this unfamiliarity, I began recording some of my work so others could see the process of my paintings. I felt like it validated me as well.

One day—after I had completed a few all-digital paintings, my mom said something that stuck in my head and seemed to satisfy the quandary. She said, “You’re still painting; it’s just a different medium.”

Yes—that was it! That’s all I needed to hear to settle the dilemma!

Here are a few of my favorite digital paintings:

You can view and purchase these paintings here: Boston Terrier, Baby Boy, Water Sunset, Cockatoo.

I still repaint some of my digital paintings, but I especially enjoy starting from scratch. At this point (December 2022) I am probably a 50% digital painter and 50% traditional.

Now, I will clarify that I do not do Artificial Intelligence or any kind of computer-generated images. They are all either my own traditional paintings or photographs that I have digitally recreated or a digital painting that I began from a blank canvas and worked up like I would a traditional painting.

My advice: Never put yourself in a box. It limits your potential.

The Ups And Downs in the World of Art

Lessons Learned, The Journey of An Artist, Uncategorized

“Ughh,” I said quietly, my poor brush feeling the huff as I placed it down on my art table with a tad bit of purposeful force.

It wasn’t always like that, I reflected. That was a cool response compared to what it used to be when I felt like an artistic fraud.

For most of my life, I felt like art was my identity. It was who I was. It was what made me unique. It was my biggest offering to the world. And to feel as if I had lost that was to feel like I lost who I was. The reason I was something. The reason I was created. (Yes, I know that it was a false sense of identity but that’s where I was at the time.)

All artists experience it . . . those dry days. The days when your artistry feels defeated or perhaps impossible. The idea is in your head, but you just cannot get it to paper. Or perhaps there is no idea. It can happen for many reasons. Perhaps you have exhausted your creativity in one area after doing too many paintings in a row or perhaps you are afflicted by emotional turmoil or physical fatigue. Regardless of the cause, it can completely devastate an artist if not prepared. It can feel like you have lost all of your artistic ability. On those days your vision is blurred. Your perfectionism heightens. Your expectations intensify. On those days your art has died.

Boldly scribbling on paper, ripping up artwork, smashing the brush bristles into the paper, throwing pencils. Sadly, these were some of my past occurrences when I hit a dry patch. I had no idea when the creativity would return, or if it would.

It’s not easy when it happens. But it saves a lot of heartache if you walk away and come back. Sometimes hours later. Sometimes a day or two later. Sometimes a week or more. I’ve learned to be more attentive and proactive of my limits, so those dry moments don’t push me into frustration. Another way to handle it is to switch mediums or arts (like music or writing). If you don’t have one, try something new. And then come back to your original.

It’s important to remember, the dry artistic spells are fleeting—they are temporary, and the creativity does return. And when it does, all will be okay once again. And sometimes your refreshed outlook creates even better art.