This is an often-repeated phrase, I gather, within the counselling profession. I began to appreciate its value this morning. It is ages since I actually applied paint to canvas. I’ve been drawing in the interval, but not actually painted since August. I have been getting more and more twitchy about this, and finally, after my recent visit to Leicestershire, I have managed to connect the time and the motivation to do something. The general basics of the composition were sketched out yesterday, and I got out the acrylics this morning.
It has been a curious experience, although I think that I have probably been here before. It is not that I have forgotten what to do, but the sensation of compelling myself to begin applying paint to canvas has evoked a feeling that I have to admit is probably fear. A part of this is possibly due to the fact that I have decided to use some materials which are unfamiliar. I am using a “structure gel” in the under-painting in order to provide the heavily textured surface I want in a large area of the picture. This feels and behaves rather differently from the “modelling paste” I have used in the past. Even so, leaving aside the natural hesitation which attends the use of new materials, I believe that deep down there is also an anxiety that, somehow and for some reason, I will have forgotten how to do it. This was made visible in the elaborate and deliberate caution with which I began by selecting and laying out my materials before I began. It occurred to me suddenly that an element of this ritualism was actually to do with putting off the moment of truth.
Anyway, there is now an opportunity for a break while the layer of new stuff dries off (it doesn’t actually say on the container how long that takes) and I can gather my moral resources before throwing myself into painting proper.