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I wish I could remember what the breakthrough feels like when I’m in the throes of the frustration that always precedes it. But I never do. When I’m in frustration mode, nothing works. My colors are muddy. My compositions are weak. My creativity slinks off to a dark corner and hides. I bitch. I moan. I throw paint at the canvas. I wash the paint off. I turn off my studio lights and go upstairs to watch Downton Abbey.

This goes on for a few days, maybe a week, sometimes longer. Each night it gets harder and harder to drag myself into the studio. I flip through art books. I watch painting videos. I look at other artist’s work. I experiment with materials and techniques and different color combinations. And I fail.  I start fantasizing about selling all my art supplies and buying a cool pair of boots instead.

But then I hear it. The small voice of my hidden creativity calling, “over here.”

And I clean off my palette, squeeze out some fresh colors, put on some music and paint.  Suddenly, it’s working. Colors stay clear, compositions work, things happen. And I’m able to produce a few new pieces and rework some of the failed paintings started during the frustrating part of the creative cycle. Little bits and pieces of  new techniques, materials, colors and compositions creep into the work.

I wish I could remember to have faith when painting is difficult that things will get better. And accept that my frustration is not a “bad” thing – it is what spurs me on to learn and grow.