Category: Process

The Power in Creating

inspiration, Process

By Wendy P. Jones

Much of the focus of art is on the work itself: techniques used, messages conveyed, the impact of the piece, its overall appeal. That’s all well and good, but what interests me the most is the creative process. Because it’s in the making, not simply in the final product, that the magic happens.

Art bestows many gifts on the maker.

The Power in Creating

Art offers the viewer insight, perspective, color, emotional connection, visual satisfaction. But creators know that the act of making the piece also bestows gifts upon the artist:

Sharpened Observation. In order to create something that resonates, the maker must pay close attention to the world around her. She finds beauty in the ordinary, explores nuance, sees the parts that make up the whole. She knows that things aren’t always what they appear.

For instance, white clouds aren’t just white. They can contain multiple colors: blue, pink, gray, gold, purple, yellow, and orange. If you look closely at the white clouds below, you’ll see that there is very little white in them.

The artist also sees the shapes around the object. For instance, a watercolor artist painting the cloud scene below would start by painting the shapes around the clouds and then bring faint colors into the white spaces to create depth and shadows within the clouds.

Things aren’t always what they seem.

Empowerment. The act of creating provides an artist with an opportunity to find her voice and express it in a unique way. Artists learn to tune out inward or outward voices that try to persuade them to follow a script—they know that producing worthwhile art is only possible if they give themselves permission to use their voice. As for the result, people will either like it or won’t—to me, approval and acclaim are far less important than the artist tapping into her creative essence. Artists put themselves out there, and that’s a superpower.

Artists put themselves out there. That’s a superpower.

Clarity. The world can sometimes feel confusing and overwhelming, especially to those who are highly sensitive. Creating provides a refuge. It can also help the artist make sense of the world, and find her place in it. When I was a greeting card maker, I’d play with different elements of a card until I found a composition and color combination that would give the emotional effect (comfort, joy, calmness) I wanted the recipient to feel. As I tested out different compositions and palettes, the pieces would start to fall into place. More often than not, I would also suddenly start to understand a problem in my life or in the world in a new way.

Creating can help an artist see more clearly, and make sense of the world.

Problem Solving. Artists know how to fix mistakes, in art and in life. They know how to pivot and they learn to trust their ability to figure things out. They learn to stretch themselves beyond the obvious solution and to keep going until they get it right. This adaptability and growth mindset serve artists well in their creative practices and in life outside of the studio.

It’s this magic within the making process that brings me back to the studio time and time again. Because I’m not just painting a pretty picture—I’m figuring out life.

Find the Opportunity in Mistakes

Creative Practice, inspiration, Process

By Wendy P. Jones

I’ve heard it said that there are no do-overs in life. In some cases, that’s true. But in most cases, it’s so not.

Accept That Mistakes Are Part of the Process

Most of us don’t get things right the first time, yet if we fall short, we can experience a crisis in confidence. What if we go into things—both in art and in the rest of our lives—knowing that we’ll probably make a mistake, pivot, and eventually get it right? If that process is our expectation, we’d have so much more energy for creating.

One of the biggest things I’ve learned being a longtime card maker, and now, a painter, is how to fix mistakes. I painted this piece some time ago. And while I liked parts of it, I hated the yellow fish at the bottom and the goldfish at the top.


Put Criticism on Mute

I almost threw it out, but then I asked the perfectionist part of me to please go sit quietly in a corner so I could see the piece differently. With the criticism on mute, I was free to reimagine the piece. There was no risk here—the worst that could happen is that the piece would look even worse when I was done, and I’d throw it out.

I added crackle paste to the horse and sea grasses for texture. I put some white watercolor ground on the seahorse and set mica flakes into the watercolor ground for sparkle and even more texture. I darkened the water surrounding the focal point—the seahorse—with a mix of phthalo turquoise and indigo watercolor paint. And then, after the piece was dry, I cut it into a 10”x10” square, which completely changed the composition. Lastly, I added a sprinkling of bronze powder to give the seahorse some magic. And the painting went from a meh piece to one that had pop.

Go easy on yourself when you make a mistake. Know that it’s part of the process, and see it as an opportunity to try a new approach—one that may give you results beyond your expectations.

Wherever I Go, There I Paint

Behind the Scenes, How-to, inspiration, Process

By Wendy P. Jones

It’s so romantic to see artists standing on the beach or in the middle of a flower field painting. And though I’d love to paint in a stunning spot, I tend to have small windows of time in which to paint. I love to paint, though, so I make it work.

I’ve painted in a parking lot when I was waiting to pick up one of my kids from school. More than once, I’ve painted in the bathtub. I’ve painted in a hotel bed. And I painted in the waiting room of a hospital when my daughter was having surgery—it helped me pass the time and kept me from going insane.

One of my guiding principles is that if something or someone is important to you, you make time. And painting is my happiness, so I’m going to find a way. For the most part, I paint for a half hour here, a half hour there, so I’ve come up with ways to make the best of that time.

Focus not on why you can’t, but on how you can.

In a Hotel Bed
In the Bath
In a Hospital Room
In the Car
In a Hospital Waiting Room

Four Grab-and-go Watercolor Essentials

I bring an in-process painting when I’m on the go. The initial stage is the messiest and requires the most water, but a painting that’s in the refinement stage is pretty manageable for wherever I’m likely to end up. As for size: I work on large pieces in my studio space, but any piece 14” x 18” or smaller is a pretty good candidate for mobile painting.

Sometimes, I bring a watercolor kit, but most of the time, I grab the four items below and carry them in a tote or even tuck them into my purse.

  1. A painting that’s still attached to a watercolor block or is taped to a hard board
  2. My palette (which I always wrap in a plastic bag)
  3. A size 10 brush and a rigger
  4. A travel mug with a lid that has a mouth opening—I usually keep the lid on and dip my brush into the mouth opening

That’s it. Super simple. And that simplicity is how I get to paint often.

I’d love to hear what’s important in your life, and how you’ve found a way to make time for it.

Happy creating!

Creative Practice

Behind the Scenes, Creative Practice, How-to, inspiration, Process, Warm-ups

By Wendy P. Jones

As a warm-up to a painting session, I often create a random background wash with no subject in mind. I learned this from my mentor, Jean Haines. It’s a way to test out color combinations and get into a flow before starting on a painting. It’s also a way to pay closer attention. I leave the wash on my desk, and as I walk by it several times, I often start seeing a subject in it.

Because I was a greeting card maker for a long time, I really enjoy smaller pieces. Recently, I’ve been doing my warm-up washes on 4”x6” inch paper. I do the washes knowing that I’m not necessarily creating a serious painting—I’m simply doing my daily practice.

As I walked by the photo below on the left, I started seeing a mountain. I used Rose of Ultramarine for the bottom half of the wash. That color separates into blue and pink, and as a result, the purple in the wash was dimensional, which I thought would be fun for a mountain scene. The patterns in the sky were unusual and dramatic. This is not a typical style of painting for me, but it was fun to stretch myself creatively.

Here’s another wash that’s been on my desk. I walked by this wash over and over, sometimes turning it in different directions. For the longest time, I saw no subject. Then I started seeing stars in an indigo sky. I’ll give you a moment to look at the wash to see if a subject calls out to you.

Does it just seem like blobs of color? It did to me, too. But eventually, I began to see what looked like an eye shape in the upper right quadrant. Do you see the eye? Now look closely—can you make out any other features of a face?

I decided to use as few brushstrokes as possible to tell the story in the resulting painting: Moon Child.