Walking the Slippery Slope

Every now and then, I stand back from a painting I’m working on and realize I’ve landed in unfamiliar territory. I’m not sure if I love it or hate it. Is it working or does it need bulldozing? Is it strong or weak? Raw or simply sloppy? Does it have enough interesting elements to build good history - or not at all?

Most of the time, at this stage, I think I know where things are heading. I can usually trust my instincts, my eye, and a well-informed sense of aesthetics to kick in and guide the next move. But then there are those disarming moments when nothing makes sense. The path I thought I was on disappears, and suddenly I’m stranded in a strange landscape with no connection to intuition, no divine guidance—just confused chatter

One minute, I love it and think it’s the best thing since sliced bread. The next, I’m ready to throw it (and myself) off a cliff.

In hindsight, these moments often show up when I’ve been painting unconsciously - or more likely, when I’ve gripped too tightly. The push-pull between surrender and control, curiosity and acceptance, order and chaos gets the better of me. It’s a flip-flop dance between attachment and detachment, and probably one every artist knows in some form before clarity emerges.

When I find myself in this muddle, here are a few approaches I reach for:

• Gentle refining - Hold lightly to what works, and edit out what doesn’t.

• If it works, do more of it - Double down on the strong parts, hoping they outbalance the rest.

• Design and composition - Strengthen the bones by emphasizing a clear composition.

• Bring in the big guns - Bulldoze in with bold gestures and contrasting shapes to create something new to respond to.

• Add more contrast - Push color, value, tone, or scale.

• Step away from the doors - Let it breathe. Walk away. Trust that when you return, your voice will be there, guiding from authenticity rather than self-doubt.

Because here’s the truth: struggle, resistance, discovery, and discomfort are baked into the creative path. Sometimes we just need to give ourselves time to adjust to a new move. Sometimes chaos and tension are trying to teach us something significant.

And when I’m really lost at sea without a compass? I return to the principles - the foundations of art and design. They’re not a life raft, but a telescope. They give me a framework to filter through, assess against, and move forward. They help me stop tripping over myself and decide whether to follow the hints… or deliberately break them.

I’m guessing I’m not the only one riding this rollercoaster - moments of uncertainty and exhilaration, disdain and delight. The more I paint, the better I get at seeing quality faster, but my inner critic still has sharp teeth.

So tell me: when you find yourself teetering on that slippery slope - loving and hating your work in the same breath, unsure if it’s brilliant or a disaster -

What do you do to find clarity?

Thanks for reading 💛
With love,
Liz xx

p.s. 🎨 Keep a lookout for news of my in-person workshops and online courses launching in the new year. We’ll be diving right into this very dance.