December 9, 2014 – Stepping back

Listen to this post:

One of my most treasured friendships is with an extraordinary woman named Randi. We met at the start of her first, my second year of college. We were suite-mates in the dorm El Conquistador in San Diego. She was not quite 17, I was not quite 19.  Though over the decades (!) we have woven in and out of being in regular communication, this is one of those friendships that picks right up where it left off, the closeness and ease never abating. Life took Randi east, to business school at Wharton and a brilliantly successful career in the health-related business world.  She is married to one of the most unique and special guys I know and together they have a remarkable daughter, now in college.  I love that though our life circumstances and even the filters through which we take life in are so incredibly different, we have such a deep appreciation for each other.  She said yesterday in a message to me that she grounds me and I inspire her. What a blessing.

We had a chat on New Year’s Day not quite a year ago that resulted in her coming out in March to learn to paint.  I love sharing painting with her. And she mentors me in how I run my art and teaching business. She’s just unflappable, always looking for the strategy or solution for my current “problem.”

Last week, on the way to the Thursday group, my tall latte cup full of roobois tea and milk went flying all over the front of my car, my pant leg and my new white jacket!  I had slammed on the breaks after looking down for one second and the cars in front of me had stopped for a bus pulling out.  I had gotten myself all frazzled with all that was on my plate: I had six cases of new mugs to put in individual boxes, art to bring in to hang for the open house on the weekend, prints to prepare, the announcement email to craft and send. The calendar orders were coming in along with the questions and problems with the online system. Instead of walking Bo (and myself) I’d spent all morning responding to these emails.  I now have a whole new appreciation for customer service departments!  So, I didn’t think straight about putting my tea in one of my new steel travel mugs with a lid before getting on the road!

My thoughts were all over the place, like flies buzzing around the kitchen, suddenly switching directions!  I knew I had to shift my energy, so I called Randi.

With humor and wisdom, she met me where I was and reinforced something I’ve known – that ultimately, what I need to be doing is primarily painting and teaching –the two things that no one else can do.  Yes.  I need help. Ten minutes into the conversation, I felt like a different person. Even though there wasn’t any help on the way, I had another perspective on the situation. I was no longer down in it, where all I could see were the thick trees. She helped me rise up and see the forest.

It occurred to me that this is parallel to what I see happen in the artists in my groups – and in me – when we paint.  It’s so easy to pick apart what we are doing when we are close in, intimate with the detail.  The critical voice in my head is telling me that the shapes are awkward, the colors are off, that it looks contrived and not natural like the thing I’m attempting to represent. I said all these things to myself about the in-progress painting of persimmons I’m slowly working on above. What it takes is stepping back.  I put the painting across the room and it can be astonishing how different it looks.  It allows me to see the painting that is emerging, in its entirety.  From here I can also see what’s needed – where I want it to be darker or softer or more vibrant.

I love my Thursdays and Fridays. I walk around our space while everyone is working on their paintings, exclaiming how incredible their work is.  They often look at me in faint disbelief.   So, I ask if I can hold up their paintings for them.  Without fail, the rest of the group responds with great appreciation and often specific feedback about what they like.  And then I see on the painter’s face a dawning of the vision that the rest of us have for their work.

It’s a bummer that this is how it goes!  We cannot appreciate our work in the way that others can.  It’s like all the cooks I know (me included) who can’t enjoy the food we’ve prepared like the rest of the diners do.  For me it takes not just physical distance, stepping back, but also time.  Generally it’s a few months after finishing a painting, when it’s up and framed, that the parts of it that still bug me start to fade and I begin to see what everyone else does.

Being down in the details of our paintings, our work is necessary.  It’s being engaged – getting stuff done – the rubber and the road.  But a life-diet of nothing but engagement brings on monotony, tedium, boredom, hyper-criticism and overwhelm. In talking about how we view our artwork, when we are working intently on it, I find myself using the analogy that it’s like looking at our chin with a 10x mirror (yikes), instead of looking back and taking in our whole face, including our shining eyes.  We need perspective to take in the broad view, to see it in context. From here we can see whole other possibilities and respond in a much more useful way.

It’s powerful for me to me to think about my life as a creation, just like a painting.  My moment last week was a 10x mirror moment, and I’m grateful for Randi helping me to step back.  We need each other for this.  As a connection-oriented being, I love that it’s set up this way – that our best life doesn’t come out of operating completely independently (as if that’s really possible, anyway).  We are channels for creation. When we are in the process, as whatever we are creating is actively coming through us, it takes others to reflect to us the beauty of our hard work – or at least to remind us to step back and take a breath.  As we wind up the year it’s a good time to do just this. Yes, I am listening to myself as I write this!

Wishing you moments of reflection in the midst of what can be a busy season.

Love,

Cara