Begin and Begin Again

My friend told me that she loves Irises. And so, I thought, well, then I’m going to paint an Iris for her! Never mind that I’ve never tried to draw or paint an Iris. I just got to it. And then, shortly into this ill-fated endeavor, I realized the extent of my hubris.

An Iris is a complicated flower. All those ruffles and ridges. The floppiness of the thing, those crazy petals. It makes no sense! But, once I began I couldn’t stop. My first try is the colorful one in the middle. My husband glanced at it and said, how nice! You’re painting the broccoli from our garden! I was highly offended, until I realized he was teasing me. Although, I do admit the stems do look a bit broccoli-esque.

My next try is the one all the way to the right. I actually kind of like this one. It’s so sad. So poignant! To me, it looks like a faded illustration you’d see in an old flower book. But it’s the color that makes this painting sad—but this color is actually a mistake. I used the sort of micron pen that when you apply paint, it gets muddied. So, I was left with this grey color, even though it intended it to be a bright turquoise blue. What a surprise to end up with this faded Iris!

My most recent attempt is the Iris on the left. It’s still a work-in-progress. I haven’t had a chance to apply color to it, and so it’s all potential. This one kind of thrills me.

In fact, all three illustrations thrill me and truthfully, I love them. I love the one that’s kind of funny and looks like broccoli. I love the little one--the sad one that looks neglected and very, very old. Poor thing! And finally, I love the third drawing because it’s unfinished and it’s all potential.

Creative Friends--resist the urge to judge. Let your work live on its own terms. Let it reveal itself to you and be what it wants to be. Your job is to simply get close enought to listen and hear what it’s trying to tell you. Lean into that mystery and then begin, begin, begin. And begin again.

Love,

Jamie