Process
A mercurial dance, fluid and expansive, an extraordinary act of self compassion and intentional kindness.
Process.
/ˈprəʊsɛs/
Definition: a series of actions that you take in order to achieve a result
Beauty, joy, peace, is in process.
Creative freedom is in process.
Process, not perfection.
Process, not product.
Process, as a practise.
Process, as a practice.
As I do my work, I am realising that to be grounded, to embrace the perplexing-all-encompassing-wonder of being a connected creative, the process is EVERYTHING.
And I need to remind myself of this often (because I am still entrenched in that capitalist patriarchal construct that is modern, western life). It is present, it is achievable, it is nebulous, it is aspirational.
Although the definition above has a process as something to achieve a result, an end, I don’t believe that means that it has to be ‘final’. I want to think of “a result” in this instance as a fluent conclusion. A molten outcome. An aqueous denouement. The end result of the process can be joy, or peace, or delicious satisfaction, a tiny warm feeling in my heart or belly or brain. A moving, deliquescent, purpose. Who is to say that once that result is achieved there is no need to go further - for me that end result is a fluid, moving target. Something I am lazily backstroking towards while enveloped in the watery, embracing, goodness of the process. I can achieve the end and still strive towards it - or not even strive, reach out to, even languidly. It is in my sights, I can plunge my hand into its edges and feel that warmth, the glow of the consummation - yes, that is it, a fulfilment.
You can probably sense I am having a very specific visual experience in describing this. It is peaceful, it is nurturing visually and bodily, somatically, there is movement, there is momentum, there is not necessarily the burning need for completion, for a full stop. There is embodiment - as I type, as I write these words, I am moving my body in the way that I want process, and fulfilment to feel. I probably look a little odd from the outside. I am ok with that. My cats don’t judge me (as far as I know), not for this anyway.
It is in process that I find connection, authenticity, and thoughtfulness. It is in process that I learn, that I am curious, that I find wonder and wisdom, imagination and inspiration. The process of creating, the process of being creative. The process of being a creative being.
It wasn’t always like that - I think you have to practise a certain amount before you recognise the value of process. That was the case for me - when I first came back to art, I was more concerned with how what I was attempting to make ‘came out’. I was more concerned about perfection and product. Keeping it honest here, that still happens, too. But it is in process, in the nuance of doing and being with your creation that the real magic happens.
Some more definitions:
Practise (verb): perform (an activity) or exercise (a skill) repeatedly or regularly in order to acquire, improve or maintain proficiency in it.
Practice (noun): the actual application or use of an idea, belief, or method, as opposed to theories relating to it (NB: US English uses the same spelling for the verb and noun).
Process requires practise and practice.
It is so wonderful to have a finished piece, but the creating, the conversations with subject, the consideration of form and colour, tiny scratches of pigment on surface, the breathing and presence and meditative action, that, that is truly the magic of creating art. A profound connection, an enchantment that is outside the boundaries of time and societal expectation. Wonder, and awe and curiosity. Compassion and reciprocity. Roots deep into the ground, branches (and arms) unfurling and open to the electric aliveness that is being right here, right now.
That is what I want to share that with you. It is not just an aesthetic I ascribe to, it is how I want to feel when I create, it is how I want you to feel when you see what I create.
The butterflies in stomach moment when a little face is formed and looking at you with anticipation. When a composition comes together with heart and intention. When form finally manifests after layer upon layer. When you find the magic of combining, layering, colours in ways you had not thought to previously - because your process has taught you, because your observational skills are growing, because you have practised and practised.
Showing up authentically and consistently is my place of beauty, it is enchantment and delight and all the emotions in one giant interconnected energetic happening. It is the gift that keeps on giving. Not that there are not times of frustration, when you can’t get the tone, the shape, the depth you want and you can possibly figure out why. But continuing to show up is a learning process that knows no bounds. There is always room to learn more, and you can only do that by showing up. When I look at my work from a year ago, I feel a sense of pride for how I showed up, and also that I can see progression, which only happens through practise and development of process.
I see how process has shaped my heart, my mind, my body. I feel how my shoulders release when I take that deep breath and make a connection to my subject. I talk to my paintings, that is part of the process too. There is that moment of connection and recognition - oh hello! I embody my process. I allow for movement and physical capitulation. I can become my subject, their surrounds, the background. I can absorb and redefine that in my physical body. I can dance to it - it has a beat, do you hear? I can roll my shoulders and spread my wings even as feathers start to appear with application of pigment. Process.
Consider what it is to use a tool, an art supply, to realistically render a part of the natural world I so adore: a tiny bit of pigment suspended in oil or clay or wax and other binders, goop on synthetic bristles (or wrapped tightly in pencil form) at the end of what was once part of a tree, dragged across a surface also once tree or plant. Tiny marks, additive, layered over and around, on top and beside. Building. Building depth and colour, form, shadow, highlight, more tiny marks, and suddenly, it comes together. It is a symphony of pigment on paper, and there she is, her likeness honoured with intention and love, after deep consideration of what it might feel like to touch her fur or wings, indeed, what it might feel like to have her fur or wings. How far her eyes see, how she hears the slightest sounds, how she has a connection to her land like I could only dream of having.
Or, she doesn’t appear. The time was not right, the conversation could not continue or start. There was no connection. It is ok, process and progress is happening. I learned, not from my mistakes, because I honestly don’t believe anything created with intention and heart can be a ‘mistake’ in art, but I learned. Even if I am frustrated and need to start again, I learned. And I practised process, even just a little more, which will only further my adventures.
And so start again, or start anew, but start all the same. And keep going. Always keep going - that is where the beauty is, where the recognition of the gift of deep observation happens, where you know you can’t and don’t want to unsee the astounding beauty all around, and know that you are more a part of that than you realised.
The process of showing up. The process. Perfectly imperfect. A mercurial dance, fluid and expansive, an extraordinary act of self compassion and intentional kindness. Process.
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Natalie this is such a beautiful post, and so perfectly articulates the joy of the creative journey. Thank you for the reminder!