Art and Life: A Lonely Journey to Self-Discovery

I've found that making the right choices in life is as hard as determining if an abstract painting is finished. Because in both cases you are left with no external references or rules, and the only path you can take is the lonely journey of self-exploration.

But eventually, embracing the uncertainty and navigating this solitary path can lead to more meaningful and authentic experiences in art and life alike.

The article summary:
Unlocking the Art of Self-Discovery.

As an artist, figuring out when to finish an abstract painting is a bit like making life choices—tricky and uncertain. Both involve self-exploration without clear external rules. This article explores how my abstract art journey mirrors life decisions and how navigating this uncertain path can lead to deeper experiences.

Since I returned to abstract painting, I've noticed that my creative journey has become more challenging and solitary. This shift is likely due to the higher degree of uncertainty inherent in abstract art.

In the past, when I created portraits, I could gauge when a piece was finished by comparing it to a reference picture. But with abstract painting, such a reference is absent. In the realm of abstract art, it's just you and your internal compass of self-judgment.

In essence, it's you against your doubts, insecurities, and inner critic—the stuff of nightmares, really!

On a broader scale, abstract art complicates strategic decisions about your artistic career. You know your art won't necessarily appeal to a broad audience, as portraits often do.

So, once again, you find yourself on a lonely journey where you create what art itself inspires you to create, and then you must navigate the complex world of the art marketplace.

I sometimes miss those days when my portraits were exhibited in local museums, and congratulations came from all directions!

However, since I've realized that abstract art is my path forward, I've had to become comfortable with the void (easier said than done) and find a way to assess my work.

To address this challenge, I initially tried using aesthetics as a gauge to determine if a painting was complete. But I soon discovered that this approach didn't always work. Sometimes, even if the composition and colors were harmonious, a painting felt like it was missing something.

It's akin to creating a pros and cons list when making life decisions. No matter how much evidence points in one direction, if you're not fully convinced, you can't proceed.

It's remarkable how much art and life mirror each other. Just as art is a solitary journey with tough decisions, life often follows suit.

In life, as in art, we should be the ones deciding when something is complete and when it's time to move forward. However, we often fall short. We remain in jobs, situations, or relationships we dislike for extended periods before finding the courage to move on. Sometimes, we even let circumstances dictate our next steps.

This occurs because we often lack a clear method to discern when something is truly finished and which direction to take next. The rational mind is not a reliable guide in this regard; it prioritizes safety over the pursuit of life's richest experiences.

The same holds true for art. Rationally, we can't determine when an abstract painting is complete or which artistic direction we should pursue next.

Rationally, I would have continued to paint portraits, especially now that I'm quite skilled and there's a market for it.

But since I've chosen to treat my art with absolute integrity (as I should with my life), I find myself on a rather solitary journey.

The challenge of judging when an abstract painting is finished persists.

To address this, I've turned to emotions. I initiate a painting with a specific emotion, such as anger or gratitude, and continue until that emotion has completely dissipated.

This approach has proven effective, but at times, even when the emotion has faded, I feel that the painting isn't truly complete.

This situation mirrors the waning excitement in a new relationship: strong emotions may subside, but a profound connection remains, compelling one to sustain the relationship (which we might call love).

So, once again, I find myself in the unknown, grappling with the demanding task of judging my abstract paintings.

After some experimentation, I've arrived at the following conclusions:

1. Sometimes, you simply don't know if a painting is finished.

That's okay. You can move on to the next work and revisit the previous one later—or never—if it doesn't feel right. Art, like life, occasionally operates this way. There are moments when we can't clearly determine if a choice is the right one; we simply make the best decision we can at the time.

2. Instead of assessing a painting solely based on its aesthetics or the emotions it conveys, you can evaluate it based on the self-exploration it facilitates.

With every painting, especially abstract ones, I delve deeper into myself to conquer fears, overcome insecurities, or reach a higher spiritual level. Otherwise, the art would remain superficial. Each painting carries an energy that guides me through this inner journey, enabling me to explore myself and share that exploration on canvas.

At some point, this energy runs its course. It may be because I've made a life-altering self-discovery or because I've reached the limits of exploration due to fears or unconscious beliefs. In either case, when that energy depletes, the painting is complete.

I've found this method of evaluating abstract artwork, based on self-exploration and spiritual journey, to be powerful. It extends beyond art and applies to life: if we choose to view life as a journey of self-exploration, we should move on to the next experience when the current one no longer offers exploratory energy.

But I must admit that in both art and life, making these moves can be challenging. When you choose to take full control of your decisions and direction in life, you quickly realize that your journey can be quite lonely. There are no external references, rules, or values—just you and your belief in your ability to make the right choices for a meaningful journey forward.