Creative commission conundrums

Recently I completed a piece that felt like it took a lifetime. Not because of its difficulty, they’re always a little complicated, but as a result of it being a pre-paid commission. You ponder, how could that be a problem? Let’s put that into perspective. It isn't a real problem such as not having a job, home, food or water like so many in Haiti at the moment. God bless those poor souls.


It's a mental problem that dogs me day in and day out, until the piece is completed. It is a problem that only I can solve and that has no baring on anyone else except perhaps the person who commissioned it. I pretty much live breathe and eat this problem until my every moment, my every thought, my very existence, is consumed.

Really, I was elated! I'm fond of this client. His presence in a room is big, full, and of varied energy. He plays hard and for the most part works hard. He decided that he had to have a Carolina. I inquired "A 3-dimensional assemblage?" "Well what do you think?" he asked. I, an over zealous creative, seeing countless possibilities at that moment, asked if he would like me to do a more personal piece. He leaped at the idea. Later, I shook my head and questioned myself for the deliberate sabotage of selling the already convenient paintings and assemblages I have on sale presently.

Still I reassured myself, it's money in the bank and he asserted that he was not in a hurry. However, he insisted on paying for the whole thing in advance because otherwise he might not have it when it is completed. Hence the problem, issue, conundrum.

Immediately upon receiving the funds, I froze. The original countless possibilities left me faster then a rabbit facing danger. What shall I do? What should I paint? What will he find interesting? What do I find interesting about him? These were thoughts that haunted me for weeks. It is like a dis-ease that hinders every aspect of my life until there is resolution.

Many weeks into the deal, he called and reminded me to do whatever I wanted and go crazy, his words not mine. Little did he sense, that was exactly what was happening. I was day to day, driving myself stark, raving, mad. He reiterated his desire for me to feel comfortable and did not want to encumber me with his lame ideas his words not mine. At this point it is important for me to be clear, this is a great client. Undemanding, prepaid, not needing to match a sofa, enthusiastic about the work. What is wrong with me?

More freezing. No thaw in sight.

Finger nails bitten down to the cuticle and months into this thing, he called and invited me to go watch him play percussion for his band. I had not known that he had a passion for playing percussion. He was light, pure unadulterated LIGHT. He exuded so much joyous fun that unexpectedly the creative juices started to flow. Ideas started flowing effortlessly. I was inspired and motivated. That evening, a little inebriated I managed a quick sketch on a scrap of paper lying on the coffee table. The next day I downloaded the various photos I took for reference. I drew a larger sketch and I colored it. I gave it a fun Caribbean island background because that is the feeling that I got from his playing. Carefree and light.

Fast Forward....

Six months later, I still had not finished. I was flogging myself daily. I have got to finish was my daily refrain. I kept changing the background over and over. Four different versions all requiring my utmost attention only to realize it was mediocre.

I floated upstairs and collapsed on the couch. My husband staying quiet knowing that if he asked anything he would be struck faster then a mosquito on a summer night.

What is it? Why am I struggling so much? The idea was solid, the assemblage pieces were cut and put together on the table, but a finish was way out of sight. In a moment of quiet desperation, I determined to change my paradigm. I decided to make believe I was getting a big fat paycheck upon completion. As I sat at the foot of the un-assembled piece I repeated the lyrics from ABBA "money money money it’s a rich man's world." I had come to understand that part of the problem was that it had been pre-paid. Money can be a great motivator even for an artist.

I still struggled even with that thought in my mind. Fit to be tied I decided to go to my very favorite meditation/inspiration stop. A place that gets the creative juices flowing by scent and site. Jerry's Artarama in West Hartford. As I entered the store I was engulfed with inner peace. It was like walking into the Sistine Chapel. At every turn something beautifully useful and desirous to own. Every isle full of tools and supplies to worship. At every corner color in all hues and tones. Tubes of paint in oil, acrylic and watercolor. Pencils and pastel with accompanying papers. I hit the decorative paper aisle and there a vision of consummate knowingness I saw my background. I got several pieces of paper and scurried back to the dungeon as I had begun to call it.

I worked feverishly for a week. Eating meals in the studio and only coming up for bathroom breaks. During the process I forgot that I was in need of motivation because all at once I had found it. On the seventh day of 24/7, a touch of glitter here, a brush stroke there, another strand to the dreadlocks of hair and viola...a masterpiece I was done. For the first time in months, I breathed a breath of air. The weight of mountains lifted off my shoulders. Lighter then a hummingbird in flight, I re-gained my zippy smile. It was the first day of freedom since October 2008. It was exhilarating. Not only that it was finished but I was very buoyant with the results which is why I write this post. I have been in this situation many times. It always resolves itself with time. Sometimes I have it, other times achieving it is more stressful then trader on the floor of stock exchange. No one can be tougher on me then I. I know all my weaknesses and go for the juggler at every turn. On the out side it appears as if nothing is happening, however on the inside I am at war. Fighting all the negativity and despair that accompanies any battle. The creativity business is tough. In that you battle yourself and if you are me, you have a touch of perfectionism...OK more then a touch, you have the critics within which are often tougher then the ones on the outside.. I have often heard said, “Ooh you are so lucky. You get to paint pretty pictures and get paid for it” I always smile it is lucky but hardly easy. Many times, more then I care to admit, things I paint go unnoticed or under appreciated. I am my best cheerleader and my worst enemy, sometimes in the same moment. I am lucky, though I have found something that I love to do and by the grace of god get to attempt a living at it.