In her post on Friday, Julie Fei-Fan Balzer went into delicious detail in text and photos as she composed her spread of journal pages, step by step. Click HERE to see them. Something she said in her post struck a chord:
"One of the things that I so enjoy about art journaling every day is the sense of a project building. I have a bad tendency to be a "finish it now" person. I have zero patience. Doing little bits every day allows ideas to percolate and themes to emerge and forces me to let go of control."
I've been immersed in Strathmore Workshop I, and like everyone else involved, I worked my journal page in steps. Step 4, the final result, is below.
Like most everyone, I followed the steps and the stages that were outlined in Pam Carriker's workshop. But it didn't get past me how many people complained about how long it was taking, how many steps were involved, how it wasn't as quick as they were used to or comfortable with. And it set me thinking about my own habits. How I work.
It helps to have lots and lots of time, but in my life, it isn't realistic to think it can come in one sitting. Some things take time to develop. Precious, glorious time. Regardless of the "make it in a minute"s that are out there in droves, some things need to be nurtured and coaxed into being. Deserve to be.
So why does taking time and developing work in stages, strike such fear in the hearts of artists? I encounter it all the time. People who are afraid of somehow overworking their pieces. It's true that overworking can occur in sensitive drawings where conservation of line is paramount, but in truth, very few paintings, almost no collage, and certainly no mixed media are ever in danger of overwork. Most are underworked, with shadow still waiting to be painted in, painted out, or just corrected. Or color, or composition, or line, shape, detail, or variation developed.
The truth is, we tend to fall in love with our work in it's unfinished stages and want to call it done. Like Gollum's ring, it becomes our "Precious", and it holds us in thrall, keeping us from making progress and developing something really wonderful. Also, we are impatient, and art and impatience are like oil and water. Except that even oil and water can be emulsified. Art and impatience are at opposite ends of the spectrum, and never the twain shall meet.
So here's what I do. I plan it all in stages. Many unplanned stages. What? Planned, unplanned? Yes. Go take a look at Julie's pages. The ones I mentioned at the beginning of my post. The link is HERE. You'll get the idea when you see how she divides her pages into sections of time and content.
The key is not to be clingy-needy with your work. It's OK to think it's awful in certain stages, and sometimes it's necessary for the piece to get downright ugly before it can develop. Lots of under-shading is awful looking until the top layers are added, but without that ugliness, there would be no depth. And if you still don't believe me, take a look at how today's piece developed. What it looked like in its last three stages, some of them really awful, but necessary.

