I
used to believe in the magic of new beginnings.
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| "Winter Sun" oil painting |
New
Year’s, my birthday, the start of the month, and even the first day of the week
all held special significance for me. Each was a symbolic moment. I would
assess where I was going wrong, attempt to reinvent myself, and start all over
again. I went about my life, and art, that way.
But
the old me never quite disappeared.
Dozens
of first chapters (or at least first pages) of books, several unfinished
paintings, and a multitude of other stalled projects hide in the dark corners
of my studio.
I
used to think that making a new beginning would save me from the pain of
failure, but now I know that it only makes it ache and sting as long as the
root of the problem remains. My problem was that I had a fantasy of someday
being “perfect”. A perfect person, artist, and storyteller, who would create
perfect things on the first try.
No,
I don’t need to go back and finish all those old projects to find closure. Many
of them have fallen far behind my current skills:
Stories
that have plots so bad it isn’t even funny.
Characters
who speak in clichés.
Drawings
I did when I was child.
I
can’t go back there—I’ve grown beyond those projects. Some of them were just
plain bad ideas. It’s okay to abandon a fatally flawed piece now and then. As
long as you’re in this world, it’s never too late to start over, but please be
aware that it’s sometimes too late to finish.
If
I had finished those projects back when they seemed cool, sure they would make
me laugh (or cry) now, but the character-building endurance it took to see them
through to completion would have been something I could still carry with me. Maybe
it isn’t so much the project as the finishing that really counts for something.
Lately,
I’ve been discovering the down-to-earth, tough, gritty goodness of sticking with
it. When the brush
slips, the scene won’t come, or I just feel restless, I’m faced with the old,
instinctual question: fight or flight? The answer to that question seems to be
in knowing who you are and why you’re doing what you’re doing.
I
am a redeemed child of God. I am an artist-storyteller. I make beautiful things
that glorify my Creator and give something to my fellow people.
So,
I’d better keep at it.
Some
artists and storytellers may think they’ll never have that kind of drive. They
rely completely on a capricious “muse”, and when the feelings run out, so do
they. I’ve been there.
I
have to fight the urge to flee constantly. Even while writing this blog post. Each
time it gets hard, I have a choice. I’m learning—messily and sometimes
painfully—to push on through, because this is worth finishing.
I
wish I could teach every creative person to be disciplined and live up to their
full potential—I wish I was better at it myself! (The myth of perfection,
again.) But I can’t give you my determination, and I don’t think I gave it to
myself, either.
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| "In the Middle of it All" used card and wrapping paper collage enhanced with GIMP |
There
is one “new beginning” you shouldn’t go without for even another moment. If you
have been trying, up until now, to do life and art on your own, then please…stop.
This won’t end well, I promise you.
At
Christmas last month, we celebrated the one and only perfect Person who came
down into the middle of our mess so He could make us truly new.
Begin
again this New Year, trusting the One who gave you life and your
gifts—including the ones you haven’t discovered yet. He will stick with you, He
promises.
He who has begun a good work in you will complete
it until the day of Jesus Christ. (Philippians 1:6)
