Here’s a little story about using logic to outwit the monsters*.
For those of you who are unfamiliar with monsters, here’s a brief introduction: they are the parts of you that get really scared or even outraged whenever you try to do something a bit more daring. That something could be working on a business idea, starting a new and healthy habit, becoming more visible online. Or it could be playing with a creative project.
*I got to know my monsters through the marvelous Havi! For more on monsters, read nearly everything she’s ever written, or at least this post.
Yesterday I had this uncontrollable urge to paint.
And I had to use oil paints. Nothing else would do.
No sooner had the idea entered my head than a host of sweet little monsters showed up. Some of them were terrified. Some were horrified. All of them were definitely something-ified.
The first one to speak up noted that I had no empty canvases.
This was true, and I decided to dig up some gessoed canvas scraps I had lying around and tape one to a board. It was just going to be a sketch anyway, not a masterpiece.
The second one pointed out that nearly all my paints were elsewhere.
This was also true. And yet I managed to find three extra tubes: a white and two umbers.
A third monster complained about the lack of color.
You ought to go out and buy some more paints, he suggested. Why not go now?
You’re right, I replied, it will be a bit… sepia-ish. But I love monochromes. And maybe a very limited palette will help me learn something about value. It could be an interesting exercise. Besides, I just want to get started, so if you’ll excuse me…
The fourth monster to speak bewailed my lack of a palette, which was also elsewhere.
So I fashioned one out of an unused board, some paper, a sheet of thin, clear plastic and some masking tape. Voilà: a brand-new palette in five minutes.
Monster number five was not pleased about my setup.
You need a real studio! he said. You’re painting in your kitchen? This is going to end in disaster!
This was when I knew the monsters were getting desperate: they were pushing one of my biggest buttons, definitely a low blow. I really want a studio and they know it. But I kept moving forward, telling them: the important thing is to make stuff, right? As long as it’s getting made, it doesn’t matter where it happens.
I admitted that there would be a fair amount of fumes in the air. Luckily, I have a big window and a ceiling fan. No problem.
The sixth monster was looking out for my clothes. Of all things.
You have nothing to wear for painting! he said. It’s messy! You’ll get paint on yourself, and replacing your clothes will be expensive! You need to go out and buy a smock, right this very instant.
He was right, I do tend to get paint on my clothes. And hey, I just happened to have two bags of worn-out old clothes waiting to go to charity. How very convenient. Suddenly I had a new painting outfit.
But, but, but…
The monsters had run out of objections other than the usual ones (“You should be trying to make more money instead”) which weren’t going to work that day. They could just tell.
Disappointed, they sat down beside me as I started to paint, and they were kind enough to show me all the spots where I was making mistakes.
Aw, sweet little monsters. I am so very grateful for their help.
Anyway, in spite of all the monstertalk I had a great time. Want to see the very small, sepia-ish painting? Here it is.
Monsters would like to point out how the canvas buckled in the middle. Thanks, guys.
COMMENTS: Talking to monsters is not always as fun as I sometimes make it out to be. It can be pretty hard, actually.
So we need to be particularly kind to ourselves and to others when we’re dealing with the fuzzy little darlings. And if someone isn’t asking for help or advice, we’ll assume they just want to be heard instead.
I’m wondering: do you have monsters like these? What kinds of silly objections do they tend to raise when you’re doing something particularly daring? Outwitting monsters with logic is something of a hobby of mine, so I’d love it if you played along.
I love this. The masters did monochrome studies all the time. I like the way it turned out–and especially the irregular edge and the not-stretched relaxed canvas. I think it would be beautiful framed with the edges showing, maybe even fringe the canvas a little.
And besides the result, yay you for talking down those monsters.
Wow, Sarah, you did a fabulous job with the monsters, and with the painting too! I love it.
Silly objections raised by my monsters? Oh, there are tons, for sure… and, of course, the little buggers went very quiet all of a sudden! I guess they’re a bit shy in public, possibly because they realise how silly they sound when they’re exposed.
(Also, I must say that this bit here: “if someone isn’t asking for help or advice, we’ll assume they just want to be heard instead”, is pure genius. I will keep it in mind and come up with something in that spirit for my own blog. Thanks for the inspiration!)
Helloooo Lisa and Josiane! I am breaking my own (temporary) internet-fast to stop by and wave to both of you. I’m glad you like my very umber-y painting and the monsterly conversations. My little monsters say hi to yours, by the way.
Josiane, some monsters do tend to get shy in public, don’t they? In a way they remind me of two-year-olds: one minute they’re screeching at the top of their lungs and flinging spaghetti, the next minute they’re meekly hiding behind Mom. I think it might depend on what they have to say too (“you need a smock” is pretty different from “just who do you think you are?!”… mmm, those are the real tantrums).
Okay, back to my fast!
Wow, I love your painting. The wistful monochrome dream-like nature scene is just my genre.
My monsters usually come up with “there’s no time” and “it’s no use” and “there are more important things to do,” and of course the occasional “who do you think you are.” And, current favourite trick: “Honey, you feel a headache coming on. Are you sure you’re up for this?” Which is not so bad, as a monster attack, because it leads me to procrastination-by-self-care, and that’s a good thing in the end.