Notice

Notice.

The Merriam-Webster dictionary records the following:  notice—[noh-tis]— as a verb—to pay a lot of attention to someone or something

What do you notice?

I notice:

·         I like caviar. I don’t like liver.

·         I like scenic mountain drives. I don’t like camping.

·         I like my Jeep Wrangler. I don’t like Bentleys.

·         I like wine. I don’t like martinis.

·         I like sassy boots. I don’t like stiletto heels.

It’s easy to notice what I like and don’t like in my daily life.  

Why is it such a challenge to notice what I like and don’t like in my artwork?  Many days I feel like a demented monkey jumping from this, to that, to the other thing without stopping to analyze what I really like about my art . . . what art I really want to create.  

I’m pleased—sort of—with what I’ve created to date. But I need to breakthrough to a new—well, a new what?

I won’t discover my “new what” until I take time to notice what I like and what I don’t like in my artwork.

As the saying goes, “When the student is ready, the master appears.” In my case the master is Louise Fletcher and her online class Find Your Joy. For twelve weeks my assignments require me to explore and notice—NOT try to be good and NOT create finished paintings.

For someone who reads the last page of a book first that’s a hefty undertaking. But as Louise says, “The rush for results prevents authentic work.”

Louise goes on to say, “Notice. Notice. Notice. And above all else notice the inner chatter that dismisses your choices and claims others’ choices are better and more valid. Honor your choices as sacred. Because it is these choices that add up, and ultimately comprise your own unique artist’s voice.”

I’m in.

                                                      Who Left the Lights On?

                                                           Judith Kolva, artist