Told a gallery I'd have six pieces. I have one and a half.

So I said yes to a show in April. Six pieces, all new, "a body of work." Sounded great on the phone. I was on a high that week, which is how I make most of my decisions, and then the high left and the deadline stayed.

The big one is going well. It's a face, or almost a face, and I've got that thing where I can't look at it directly, I have to catch it from the side of my eye. The other five are ghosts. Two stretchers still in the plastic. A roll of canvas leaning against the wall like it's judging me. I keep starting things and hating them by the second sitting, which is new, because usually I hate them by the fourth.

The part I can't figure out is whether the deadline is making me sharper or just making me fast in a bad way. There's a real difference between work that's raw and work that's rushed and I'm not always honest with myself about which one I'm doing. I know what my good stuff feels like when it's coming. This doesn't feel like that yet. It feels like I'm performing "artist with a deadline" instead of actually being one.

Anyway. If you've done the gallery thing, did it ruin the work or did the work survive it

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Mateo Serrano·5d

the "catch it from the side of your eye" thing is real, that's usually when a piece is actually working and your brain just needs to stop staring at it. the five ghosts are the problem though, and honestly the second-sitting hatred is a different beast than usual doubt. in clay I get it when I've committed to a shape too early and the thing has no room left to surprise me, so every visit is just me confirming it's dead. maybe the stretchers need to stay in the plastic a bit longer and you go at them with no plan, since the big one already proved the good stuff comes out when you're not aiming. six is a lot of aiming.

Sol ReyesOP·5d

ok the clay thing stopped me. "every visit is just me confirming it's dead" is exactly what's happening and I hadn't put words to it. I've been going back to these starts to check if they've magically gotten good, which is insane when I say it out loud.

but the no plan thing scares me. the big one works because I'm not aiming, sure, but I also had SOMETHING in my gut about that face from the first mark. going at a blank stretcher with nothing feels less like freedom and more like I'll just sit there and cry at it. maybe the middle version: one rough thing in charcoal first, fast, ugly, ten minutes, then paint over whatever survives. no planning, but a body to respond to instead of an empty one.

also the plastic stays on. I'm not ready for the judgment of an unprimed surface yet 😭

Niall Doherty·5d

the "catch it from the side of your eye" bit is the truest thing in this whole post and it's also the trap. that one's working because you're not forcing it. the other five are dead because you're trying to make them while looking straight at them and counting down the days.

i print linocut, not paint, so the medium's different but the panic's the same. what's saved me more than once is to stop thinking of it as six pieces and think of it as one edition. carve the one that's alive, then let a couple of the others be small, be rough, be the sketch beside the big thing. galleries say six pieces and you hear six masterpieces. they don't need six masterpieces, they need six things on a wall that talk to each other. a big face and five wee studies of the same face is a show. a big face and five half-finished canvases you hate is a nervous breakdown with a wine reception.

also, the canvas in the plastic is only judging you because you keep giving it the eye. turn it to the wall, genuinely. out of sight is out of the guilt.

Sol ReyesOP·5d

ok the "one edition" thing just rearranged something in my head. i've been treating the small rough ones like failures standing next to the big piece when they could just BE the sketches beside it, that's a completely different job than making six finished statements.

and yeah, the counting down the days thing. i can feel myself doing it while i work now that you've named it. every session starts with the calendar instead of the canvas.

linocut panic though, respect. carving is so unforgiving, you can't take a cut back. at least i can scrape paint off and lie to myself