Here’s a shot from my studio at about 6:45 this morning. If you look out the window to the lower right of the canvas you can see one of the deer who seem to be always in my yard trying to find a bit of grass that is finally showing through the remaining snow. The canvas itself has been hanging around the studio for a couple of weeks now since I stretched it. It’s a looming presence at 4 1/2 ‘ high by 7’ wide, easily the largest canvas I have ever faced. A long way from the tiny paintings, some as small as 1″ square, with which I began my career.
As I said, it’s been hovering for a couple of weeks and the sight of it is both exciting and terrifying. On one hand, it holds the potential for something big and exciting. But on the other hand, it sits like a black hole threatening to absorb everything around it. It’s so large that to fail is to do so on a grand scale with nowhere to hide the flaws.
So it has just sat there, waiting for me to face it. I don’t know if today is the day to start the journey into whatever this will offer or if I will again set it aside and do something different. Something smaller and less daunting. Normally, I just start and kind of let the painting take me where it will without a lot of foreplanning. But I’m torn here, thinking that I need to at least have a clue of the final destination for this large piece. Some sort of plan.
But I don’t have one. I’m tempted to go with a huge version of the new work with a sky full of clouds, thinking that the visual impact of it on such a scale would be really dynamic. I can somewhat see it in my head and if I can catch the right subtlety of color that I’m seeing, it would bang off the wall. But there’s a little hesitation on my part and I’m not fully committed yet. And before I start something on this scale I want to be fully invested in the belief that I will draw something alive out of this. Sitting here now, I’m beginning to feel that I need another few days to consider it more, to try to see something more concrete in my mind before I embark on this journey.
Hmm. We’ll have to see what comes from this. I’ll let you know.
Redtree Times 
On the edge of my seat. Can’t wait to hear how it goes, and of course to see the final product.
I don’t read or hear much from you about fear of failure, and at risk of prying I’d love to hear more about that sometime (not to stoke anything, of course!). Is a large canvass a big financial investment? Other than the risk of creative failure, is there also a financial risk? Do you ever “crash and burn” on a piece, or is the worst kind of failure just something that is mediocre? Do you ever, or do you often, hate something so much that you just paint over it, and start from scratch? Or is that not practical/possible?
Also, how has your blog affected your experience of risk, success and failures? Do comments from your collectors and followers like “I’m sure it’ll be great!” encourage you, raise the stakes/pressure, or both?
Again, not to make you dwell on your fears, but I am very interested in hearing more sometime about how far the drop is as you reach for great heights. Maybe once this piece is done you would be willing to revisit this post, and address what what a legitimate fear and what ended up being an illegitimate (unnecessary?) fear? Anything you will know when it is done that you wish you’d known now?
Keep up the good work, and hang in there! I’m sure it will be great!
Tom– Thanks for the great questions. I will try to address those in a post or two in the near future.
Hope all is well with you!
[…] been haunting me for almost a year. I had written about this canvas in a post last March called Daunting and I guess it must have been just that because I have found excuse after excuse to not start […]