Sometimes being an artist isn’t fun or enlightening or satisfying. It’s just hard work. It’s hard to figure out how to capture a scene or idea on paper; hard to get paint to do what you want, what you see, what you want to convey. Sometimes being an artist is fraught with doubt and anguish. That’s the kind of week I’ve had. I have a big painting assignment that requires big skies and working at a much larger size than I typically do. Scaling up has been a challenge—one which will no doubt prove worthwhile in the end, but which feels overwhelming in the moment. My head is full of clouds…and I’m only beginning to see a glimmer of blue sky emerging.
“Day after day never fail to draw something which, however little it may be, will yet in the end be much.” — Cennino Cennini c. 1390
It’s comforting to know that people have been struggling to draw and paint well for centuries. Cennini’s advice is just as true today as it was 600 years ago. I’ve spent the last week watching, drawing and painting chickadees, trying to capture the shape, color, and spirit of this little songster. It isn’t easy.
Chickadees are not very cooperative subjects. Unlike finches, which will perch at a bird feeder and eat, chickadees never stick around. At my feeders, they flit to a nearby branch, survey the feeder, swoop in–pause for a second—grab a seed, look up and fly off to eat elsewhere. The whole maneuver takes about six seconds. But to their credit, chickadees are bold. When I stood three feet from the feeder to photograph them, chickadees were among the few birds that continued to feed.
I did these sketches and the small painting below from life and from photos. I have more to do to really capture the bird to my satisfaction, but I am taking Cennini’s advice to heart, hoping that yet in the end, all this practice will amount to much.