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I think I figured out the secret to daily painting.
But you’ll have to stick with me for a moment first. Above you’ll see most of my 31 paintings from the January daily painting challenge (I couldn’t find a layout that would fit them all). I was joined by a host of others doing “a thing” for the month of January with me.
My sister completed the whole 30– a 30 day clean eating program. No grains, no dairy, no sugar, no alcohol– that’s the gist for 30 days. If you go to the whole 30 site, it spells it out in more detail. My favorite part is where it says this, and I quote:
This is not hard. Don’t you dare tell us this is hard. Fighting cancer is hard. Birthing a baby is hard. Losing a parent is hard. Drinking your coffee black. Is. Not. Hard.
True confession: I tried the whole 30 over a year ago and didn’t make it. I had a glass of wine around day 19. It was hard, but I guarantee you I could have skipped that glass of wine. I just didn’t.
But I’ve never skipped a painting. So is a painting a day hard? Sometimes I take on the whole 30 attitude– no, of course not. Life is full of more arduous, soul-crushing feats. Buck up! Other times I think, well of course it’s hard. It’s damn hard!
I finally think I know why I have skipped through 31 in 31 painting challenges (or even a 100 in 100, remember that?) without cheating once, but I couldn’t go 30 days without breaking the whole 30 rules.
It seems obvious, and I don’t know why I’ve not articulated it until now.
In 2014 I did my very first daily painting challenge for the month of April as a way to launch my new career. I remember it well. It felt a little silly. I wrote blog posts for the first two days but had not a single blog subscriber. In other words, I put the art out “there,” and “there” was an uninhabited cave. I was afraid to share the link to those first two days on social media. So I didn’t.
And then I realized that if I wanted to make a living making art, I was going to have to let people see it. I was going to have to come out of that cave. I did. For the next 28 days, I posted and shared links to all my daily paintings. Like it was my job. And if I was going to act like it was my job, I was going to have to, at the very least, show up to it every day even when my heart wasn’t in it.
When people saw the work, it felt more like my actual job. Let’s be clear, my following at the time was miniscule. One fourth of it was probably comprised of my mom and grandmother. But it was a real audience, albeit tiny.
So that’s the secret. Audience. Community. I think we have all these really nice ideas about creative people doing the work “for themselves” and not to please others. Perhaps there is truth in that. There’s also truth in this: paintings are meant to be seen, music to be heard, poems to be read. Art builds meaningful connections. When the only connection is between art and artist, the artist can easily take a day off. A week off. Twenty-five years off. The artist has the art already. It’s in her head. It only exists to others when it leaves such a safe dwelling.
When I did my whole (3/4ths?) 30 I didn’t have an audience. I may have told one person I was doing it. I’m not saying I should have shouted my intentions with it from the rooftops or in the form of “humble brags” via Facebook. But I could have told those around me, particularly the people who eat with me. And I could have enlisted some poor fool friend to do it with me.
January’s 31 days were by far my best challenge. I didn’t sell the most paintings or gain the most followers of all my daily painting challenges, but I had a tribe of people taking on something hard with me. I had an audience and a community that gave meaning to the work.
I don’t pretend to think that if I’d skipped a day here or there anyone would have been alarmed or perhaps even noticed. That’s not what I mean about audience. It’s less about accountability and more about awareness– what you’re doing, in some even miniscule way matters. It draws a line between you and someone else. That is powerful. That is art.
If you did a 31 day challenge last month, I’d love to know your thoughts on the impact of community. And if you want to join the next one, I think you know by now, you’re invited.
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7 Responses
Aristotle said, “The whole is greater than the sum of its parts” and an updated version, “We multiplies the power of I” can maybe begin a discussion of my two 31 experiences. I am, ummm I WAS , a closet artist. I loved creating but never wanted anyone to see what clearly wasn’t good enough. So, occasionally I would draw or paint something. Very, very occasionally. When Denise asked if anyone wanted to join her 31 day challenge, I said yes, I will paint every day. Best. Decision. Ever. It is hard for me to describe the development of authentic community. But, develop it sure did! Disparate individuals, spread apart by age, geography, experience, skill, history and personality, all deciding to do something every day for 31 days. As I write this, I can’t believe myself that this was the ground that grew such an amazing community. As we posted our own (mostly) daily efforts, we grew. As we supported each other’s (mostly) daily efforts, we gave – generously. And somehow the WE became greater than the I. Somehow, the disparate group of very different people doing very different things became a true community of supporters, of common persisters, of reachers, of sharers, of seekers, of revealers, of chance-takers …. of friends. 31 is my new favorite number. My art (a term I’ve literally never used) is real. My 31 friends are real too. Real talented. Real amazing. Real generous. Real persistent.
You’ve covered a lot of ground in this thoughtful post, Denise!
Here’s where I’m at. I think I’ve mentioned I want to start selling my work. I’m ready in the sense any photographer is ready: not one hundred percent sure anyone is going to buy prints. They may look at my prices when I decide on them (I already have ideas in mind) and go eh, he’s not that good. But ready in that I want to build the meaningful connections you’re talking about.
Doing the 31 day challenge with you and everyone absolutely helped me to see how art shapes the artist, the work of art, and the viewer/reader. I’ve always known in an abstract sense–in other words without being the artist–, that 1) artists are their own worst critics; 2) the receiver of the work of art can bring so much more to the work than the artist intended. I saw that with my art so many times this month. For instance, you telling me you didn’t think there was a single dud in my collection. I can’t tell you how much that buoyed me as I looked back on what I’d done and considered what I’d wished I’d done differently.
I was also consistently struck by the religious undertones my work carried for so many of the folks in our community. I didn’t mention it during the challenge, because I don’t like the idea of telling someone what they got out of my photos is “wrong,” but I’m an atheist. I also love the architecture in churches and cemeteries. And I kind of love the idea that I can bridge that gap with people of faith in my art. To quote you, THAT is powerful. THAT is art.
Along with a few others, I have been fortunate to participate in two ’31 in 31′ challenges with you, Denise [as you certainly know!]. I could hardly say anything better than what you and the others have already written here.
To your readers, and for what its worth [if only in the interest of full disclosure], I did not produce a work every day, in either the October or the January challenge. As a writer, there were a few times when what I was writing just took me too long to get it finished in a day [I’m pretty slow], and then there were a few days where I just did not get it done.
But having said that, at the end of this latest challenge, I had eight new poems [some of which I posted in segments], a draft of a couple of short stories, one new song, and presented an old poem written years ago that I had thought to be just not strong enough, and I had never presented it before….to anyone. One of the new poems turned out to be maybe my favorite of all, and I can say for certain that I would never have thought of it, nor envisioned how it might unfold without the powerful interaction of our community.
I cannot say enough about how inspiring these individuals…these friends…were to me….in their art, in their courage and determination, in their support and encouragement. In one of his songs, Bruce Springsteen says that upon meeting his saxophone player, Clarence Clemons, it was like ‘sparks flew’. That is a little of what being part of this challenge group felt like.
And finally I have to say that I learned so much about my craft. When you work, every day, in your ‘craft or sullen art’….thank you, Dylan Thomas…..you just get better at it. And that it is an immense benefit. Thanks so much for making this happen. Without exception, I am grateful for everyone in our group, and grateful to have been part of it.
Oh my, I think the best way to describe the last 31 in 31 is “game changer”. To start off the year with this amazing group of people, none of whom I’ve even met in person with the exception of you, Denise, was something I’ll always carry with me. As an artist, to have a safe place to come and share each day was exactly what I needed. I was challenged, inspired, and motivated each day by being exposed to every person’s daily “story”, whether that was art, music, a poem, or an experience. I also felt very supported, truly like sharing my work with family. I can’t really express how much this past month meant to me, how much these people mean to me. But they each impacted me in their own way, by generously sharing their individual gifts throughout the month. I would never have thought I would get so much out of a group of people through the internet!! What? I am on fire and so excited to be doing my painting. Every. day. Thank you for this opportunity and for being our fearless leader. Until next time!!
Sharing thoughts with strangers on the internet is not always a pleasant experience. Just go read the comments on almost any news post anywhere, and you’ll find a host of horrible things that not even a 12 year old girl would say to someone’s face. Sharing art with strangers bears a potentially heavier load: the risk of silence. A few years ago, I wrote a first draft of a novel, and not a single person (of the dozen people I sent it to) responded with even a “Dude, this sucks.” To be honest, it took a while to start writing again.
This 31-in-31 challenge stoked a fire for writing that I haven’t felt in ages. I woke up and fell asleep each day to Facebook, to the small but strong community of artists we’d formed there, engrossed in the joyful and empathetic discussions that occurred and the magic of art that grew each day. The positive effect shows: it’s February 8th, and the daily vignettes haven’t stopped. I don’t expect they will. I’m writing more than I have in months, and I’m more excited about it than I have been in even longer.
So, thank you, Denise and my fellow 31ers. I am eternally grateful for your support and newfound friendship, and I look forward to our next challenge and the beauty we’ll create when it comes.
Pick me, pick me! I’m dying to read that first draft of the novel.
Everyone in 31 in 31 has already expressed my feelings, and that is exactly why this group clicked. This group existed without politics, gender, race or social status. It did exists with acceptance, encouragement, humor, spiritualality and forgiveness. I was the would be Yogi in the group, and quite honestly at first I felt so silly and inadequate, I wasn’t painting, writing or playing music; but after the first five days, I felt immersed in these relative strangers lives. I rooted for the characters they wrote about, the images they painted, the poems they wrote, the food they prepared, the music they played, the walks that were journeys, the coloring book that spoke volumes. And they in turn cheered me on, not to be a master Yogi, but to be me, they told me I was funny, strong and encouraged me to be the best version of me. Thus far one of the best things I have ever done for myself and I can’t wait to do it again. A debt of gratitude to Denise for letting me participate in this experience. Cece