Losing control

My painting is getting messy. I’m making little paintings in preparation for bigger pieces. In trying to figure out certain gestural shapes and lines, these robots are all over the place. I picture robots rolling around in giant pools of paint, and when they get up, the floor is covered in paintings like this one.


While I need to keep perspective and line weight and all of those cool things in mind while I’m painting, I’ve found that letting go a little, relinquishing some control in the name of experimentation, to be freeing. It feels like screaming into the waves on a windy day, or some other exhausting release. Assuming that a personal practice teaches us things about ourselves (I’m just going with that assumption) I feel like there’s something to learn from this act of letting go.

I hate letting go of control. I feel most comfortable when I can control myself, what I eat, what I wear, how I sound, how I appear. It’s tiring. Sometimes though, I can let go, and let things happen. It can be amazing and it can be scary. I don’t profess to have the answers here, on how to let go and not care, I just think that finding ways to let go, that make you feel good, is helpful. Painting works for me. There’s control and there’s a distinct lack thereof, all at once. The act itself feels rewarding, and I don’t get to hung up and judgmental with the outcome. I fall in love with it a little bit every time, and I don’t worry about where it’s going. I’m hoping it rubs off in other parts of my life.

So that’s today’s reason to keep painting. I get to let go, and give myself a break. That’s something we could all use a little more of, right?


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