A bad painting day.

What do all you writers, painters, sculptors, musicians, do with a bad creative day?

Yesterday I went out to Hull's Gulch to paint. I was very excited to be geared up with my big Plein Air rig for its first outing of the season - my Mystery Ranch sling was loaded up with my Guerrilla Painter box and wet painting tote, easel, stool, and the works. The sun was shining and I even had some dark chocolate for a snack. But what do you do when the stars finally align for a precious day in the field or  the studio, and you are all set up, and you suddenly find that you are NOT in the mood?

I often debate with myself if it's better to push through these days, or to just take a break and go get a cup of coffee or take a yoga class. The feeling is different than a creative block, where there is a feeling of impulsive anxiety that signifies one needs to just stay put and push through. On bad painting days I just feel like I'm in a funk, and rather than the sense of urgency that accompanies a creative block, I just don't care about painting.

Well on this particular day I forced it. I painted for about 2 hours, hating every moment of it. The beautiful spring day and bright idyllic flowers just seemed to mock me. I packed up, got a cup of coffee and went to the bookstore to look for a book on Richard Diebenkorn, (a painter who is far superior to me in what I was trying to achieve), of course didn't find one as it was indeed a bad painting day, went home and took a 3 hour nap. Then I went to the studio and completely wiped my chicken scratch painting out. I liked the wiped version much better.

Often a nap is the best remedy to these moods where I couldn't care less about the activity I love the most in the world.

But from my eternal optimist's perspective, I have come to feel grateful for these bad painting days. Looking back, I often realize that these bad days are ones where I have become very tired of myself. One of my favorite writers, David Whyte, says sometimes becoming good and tired of yourself is a blessing. These moments are turning points. Whyte also says in one of his books, "Sometimes the antidote to exhaustion is not rest. Sometimes it is full-heartedness." So those moments of dullness and apathy, either immediately or a little ways down the road, challenge us seek out new inspirations and experiences, and are the catalyst for growth and discovery.

In this sense I guess I could conclude that there are no bad creative days. There are days when creative work feels exciting and exhilarating. And there are days when it feels awkward and murky. They are all useful if greeted with full-heartedness.

So enjoy those bad days, dammit!

By the way the one painting that I came away with yesterday that I thought I liked was described on Facebook as looking like a "nekkid lady's bum." Thanks, Angela, for the laugh - you are quite right.