SUZANNE MCDERMOTT
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Magnificent Imperfection

1/30/2018

 
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​Jacques-Louis David
Le Général Bonaparte, 1798

The word perfection comes from the Latin perficere, meaning to complete, to finish, to bring to an end. Sure, the word has additional meanings before that mark and since but for the sake of this post, let's focus on that main definition.

It follows, then, that imperfection merely means that which is not complete, unfinished.
Isn't that the state of being human? Aren't we perfect only when we are finished with our earthly journey?

Near the end of his life, Leonardo (as in da Vinci) went through his notebooks and wrote over and over again, "Tell me if anything was ever done".  Yes, Leonardo struggled with perfectionism.

So do many of my students. I've attracted many perfectionists to my drawing and watercolor workshops and courses over the years. As a recovering perfectionist, I recognize them and their suffering right away. I understand the syndrome and coax them (sometimes more successfully than others) through the process of letting one thing or another go. 

Even if students aren't outright perfectionists, there's a more subtle, related suffering. A constant nagging sense of displeasure or defeat (or both) when showing work they consider subpar. 

I understand that, too. Especially over this past year, when I've only had time, for the most part, to make mad dash demos under pressure of stupidly short amounts of time and (often) interruption, I then present whatever results as an example of my abilities. Actually, the results are rushed demonstrations of how to but still, my ego is crestfallen with the results and the what other people think nattering is super annoying.

“Perfectionism is not self-improvement. Perfectionism is, at it’s core, about trying to earn approval. Most perfectionists grew up being praised for achievement and performance (grades, manners, rule following, people pleasing, appearance, sports). Somewhere along the way, they adopted this dangerous and debilitating belief system: “I am what what I accomplish and how well I accomplish it. Please. Perform. Perfect.”

Healthy striving is self-focused: How can I improve? Perfectionism is other-focused: What will they think? 
Perfectionism is a hustle.”
​

– Brené Brown

Even with my relatively private daily drawing blog, I am posting scribbles and drawings that would be better burned. 

In fact, they're all just teases. Warm ups (with, at this time in my life, nowhere to go for follow up). However, if I can get over myself, all of these (mostly) disappointments keep my muscles flexed, the practice intact and provide some sense of accomplishment. The carrots of disappointment and imperfection keep me in a race that, eventually, as soon as there's more time, will have me winning more often on a daily basis.

Fortunately, the demos I'm creating for the online courses are mostly highly successful. So there's that. I'm not operating in abject failure.

All of what I've just described is experience that cannot be conveyed to a novice or to someone unwilling to let go of prescribed structures. That may be the most difficult part of teaching beginners. The other difficult notion to convey to beginners is that we're all beginners, no matter how long we've been practicing and working away.

There's a large degree of faith involved in the creative process. There are moments of inspiration and master pieces but the whole cloth unfolds over a longer period of time and experience and work that any one piece can adequately describe in terms of perfection. Faith kicks in when you come to understand that you cannot possibly know or control the end result or outcome of any process, let alone any creative process. Faith is a practice, too.

“Perfectionism is the voice of the oppressor, the enemy of the people. It will keep you cramped and insane your whole life, and it is the main obstacle between you and a shitty first draft. I think perfectionism is based on the obsessive belief that if you run carefully enough, hitting each stepping-stone just right, you won't have to die. The truth is that you will die anyway and that a lot of people who aren't even looking at their feet are going to do a whole lot better than you, and have a lot more fun while they're doing it.”
​-
Anne Lamott

Personally, I love unfinished paintings. Gilbert Stuart's Athenaeum Portrait of George Washington, David's Unfinished General Bonaparte, Freud's Self-Portrait, to name a few. I love seeing the process, the partial drawing against the partial paint against the naked canvas.

This may be one reason why I cling to watercolor as my main medium, because the naked paper is always a presence if not clearly visible. Just one reason.

Of course, drawing and painting are not always a matter of suffering. Not by a long shot. Many are completed quite nicely (if not perfectly). 

Come learn about magnificent imperfectionism.

​Work with me.

"Perfectionism is internalized oppression." - Gloria Steinem

Hanging in there

3/22/2017

 
Picture

or, Who Needs a Perfect World?

Wouldn't it be nice if the world worked perfectly to fit our own little ideas of our own little schedules?

Would it?


In a perfect world, I would be completely recovered from the bad head cold I came down with several weeks ago. I'd be free of the sinus infection that followed. My voice (that I lost last week) would be healed in full. My house would be free of clutter. I would have had enough energy after teaching all day yesterday to swim laps last night instead of collapsing into bed with a pizza and laptop streaming tv shows. I would have woken up between six and seven this morning, bright eyed and bushy tailed. I would have known when the painters and maintenance supervisor were scheduled. I would have left the house in time to arrive for my morning appointment on time. The download link I sent out to students this morning would have worked correctly. The electricity would not have gone out and my computer would not have shut down while I was trying to solve the download link problem. Just as I was sitting down to write, the leaf blowers would not have started up outside my windows. Um... and so forth.

It's 5 pm and I feel like I'm just getting started. Speaking of which, a few minutes ago, I started out writing about schedules and time and now find that I'm writing about a perfect world. 

The facts are that I did wake up this morning (I could end this sentence right there) in plenty of time for everything that needed to happen. (Although I have not yet done my morning Kundalini Yoga set.)  I was ten minutes late to my morning appointment (but I made it). I swam half a mile mid-day. The maintenance supervisor solved the mold problem. The painter has almost finished her work. I solved the download link problem. The "landscapers" are almost finished. And everything is probably going to be all right.

I don't deal well with chaos and clutter. That being said, like it or not, life tumbles along amidst chaos and clutter. You never know what's going to happen next. 

For example, last Saturday, I went out for a walk around the neighborhood in absolutely perfect weather. On my way back, about three blocks from home, a single storm cell flew in with serious horizontal lightning, the air turned orange and then green, I practically climbed the fence of the first neighbor I knew and begged for a lift home. Fortunately for me, he dropped everything and gave me a lift. By the time I'd run into the house and turned on the lights, I looked out to see that enough hail had fallen to mimic a snow storm. The roofs, cars, parking lot, lawn, everything was covered in white. You never know what's going to happen next. 

While I was thinking of writing this post two weeks ago, I was really struggling with the sinus infection, low energy and a hoarse throat while working pretty darn hard. I kept thinking of that Winston Churchill quote,

When you're going through hell, keep going.

and while continuing to think about writing this post (instead of writing it!), this aphorism came to mind,

Just put one foot in front of the other.

And so I am. Keeping on going. Putting one foot in front of another. I mean, I'm not in hell by any stretch of the imagination. It just feels like things are chaotic. And they are! At the last minute this morning, I pulled towels and toiletries and whatnot out of the bathroom, moved my kitchen table and grabbed my coats and bags off the wall rack then threw everything in miscellaneous piles in the living and bed rooms then ran out the door to my car. Now the painter has just left and, though she did the best cleanup she could, I have to go back in and mop up sanding dust. I'm going to do that, now, while the daylight is still with me.

I'm not sure what this post is about, exactly. It seems to be part venting about not very interesting or important stuff, and part just going with the flow. As it happens, as it happens.
​
I mean, I know all too well that what I've described is simply incidental living and nothing compared to true chaos and upheaval. Not to discount or minimize in any way my own traumas, but even those experiences pale compared to what others are experiencing or have experienced.

I come from a family of refugees. I'm used to surviving and going with the flow, and what happened to me was just life. —Yasmine Al Masri 

Life just is. What's that other adage? Life is what happens while you're making other plans?

It was actually a pretty good day. The weather was pleasant. Some problems were solved. I have a few more jobs to tackle.  Then I have the great fortune of laying down in my own bed with my furry little beast and drifting off to sleep, perchance to dream.

Right now, I'm going to mop up that drywall and paint dust.

We must let go of the life we have planned, so as to accept the one that is waiting for us. —Joseph Campbell 

Life imitates art

10/31/2016

 

It's been a delicious year.

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I swear to god, if I wait any longer to start this blog and write this post, I'm going to pop! Every time I intend to restart my blogging life, my online writing and posting, my whatever this is I'm trying to express, something comes up and offers interference. I have succumbed to that interference so far but no longer.

One week ago, shy one hour, I was rear-ended by a distracted 22-year old and my life turned into smashed cars, pain and suffering and doctors visits and hours on the phone with insurance agents and arranging for and picking up rental cars and adjusting to new circumstances and intending that all of this interruption and challenge is a blessing in disguise. Yes, this is a blessing in disguise although I'll only recognize the blessing in retrospect.

That's how life works. The strikes and folds, the bends and curves of whoa! this roller coaster our souls have bought a ticket to.

But moving back a bit, had I not been rear ended while waiting patiently with my brake lights and turn signals on, with my spirit uplifted and motivation intact, I would have started this a week ago. But, to be honest, there have been interruptions of different sorts arising for months that I've allowed to hold me back.

If I'd moved through any or all of those interruptions, I would have said, I started this year in the throes of an illustration project for which I was also hired and charged with designing the book and managing the project—an illustration project of 60 fruits and vegetables. It was a mighty task and I loved it—the challenges and victories alike.

Here's a glimpse of what the end product looks like:
"Life imitates Art far more than Art imitates Life."
~Oscar Wilde, 'The Decay of Lying: An Observation', 1889 
In late spring, as I completed the illustration phase and moved into design and project management , I found a few trays of organic tomato and pepper seedling on top of the trash cans at my apartment project. 

No, no, I thought. This will never do! I rescued the seedlings, adopted some out-of-date recycling bins which I filled with good dirt and started a garden project outside my bedroom window. One thing led to another...
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I adopted discarded pots and such from outgoing tenants, bought large bags of organic dirt then tiny pots of favorite herbs and accepted all perennial donations.
Suddenly, I'd started a rather extensive garden project. Over the summer, I learned about nurturing soil, the effects of extreme weather on plants, what vegetables need more than scented gardens and perennial flowers (those being my forte... fortés?). My burgeoning garden yielded tomatoes (but only a few), cucumbers (as few), green peppers (late, even still now, in November) and loads of happy herbs.

Understanding by August that my summer yield was slim, I started a fall garden with new knowledge and tools (amendments) for the soil. 
Picture
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By Halloween, things are looking up but we'll have to wait to see what's edible and juiceable. It's been a warm fall and is a warm start to November but the weather (and good watering) bodes well for a southern winter garden.
All right. I've thrown down my own gauntlet. Or I should say, my gardening glove.
​It's enough for today. We'll see what I compose in the coming weeks.

At least I've planted my first seed. 

Picture
"At first, art imitates life. Then life will imitate art.
​Then life will find its very existence from the arts."

—Fyodor Dostoevsky
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