Back when I was slightly younger there was a song I used to sing along with on the radio - "Anticipation" by Carly Simon. Later (but before it became a Heinz Ketchup commercial) I even went out and bought the album. Carly Simon's lyrics seemed to mirror many of the feelings I had growing up and she quickly became one of my favorite recording artists.
Unlike most of the topics explored in Simon's early albums, anticipation is one feeling I still haven't outgrown. It always feels good to finish a painting or a poem, a story, a chapter -- to take something as far as I artistically can. The problem comes with getting ready for the next story, the next chapter, the next painting. I get fidgety and high strung like a sprinter waiting in the starting blocks for the crack of the gun. If I'm getting ready to paint I might clean around my easel, scrape down my palette and squeeze out a fresh array of colors, sharpen my pencils in anticipation of a future drawing or go for a walk. When I'm getting ready to write, I'll assemble the reference books I might need, spend extra time on my background notes or character sketches, work a little more on my rough outline - anything to delay the act of putting my butt in the chair and writing. Once I settle in, however, I'm usually fine.
Maybe it's the transition that's hard to deal with -- the anticipation of change coupled with the hope that maybe this will be a breakthrough painting or a defining chapter in my character's story. Maybe it's the fear that I'll fail miserably. Not that failure is bad. I just finished a portrait that I refuse to share with anybody outside of my painting class. It's dreadful and far below my standards but I did, I admit, learn a lot by doing it. It was, to put it nicely, a learning experience.
Nearly everything we do by our own creative energy should be a learning experience. And if it isn't then what's the point?
