An Honest Glimpse Behind the Canvas

There’s a part of being an artist that people rarely see. You see the finished painting, the one hanging beautifully on a wall, framed, polished, photographed in good light. But what you don’t see… is what happens in the middle. You don’t see me standing in front of a half-finished canvas, brush in my hand, thinking: “What on earth am I doing?” Sometimes, I start a painting full of excitement.

I have a clear image in my head, colors, energy, mood. And then somewhere along the way… it starts to fall apart. Or at least, it feels like it. The colors don’t flow the way I imagined. The idea shifts. The composition doesn’t look balanced anymore. And suddenly, the whole painting turns into a battlefield between what I hoped for and what’s actually happening.

That uncomfortable in-between

There are moments when I honestly want to throw the whole thing away. I think, “Maybe I should just stop. Maybe this isn’t it. Maybe no one will ever want this painting.” Because yes, even after years of creating, those thoughts still appear. And there’s no one to tell me what to do. No manual. No map. Just me, my brushes, the silence, and a painting that doesn’t love me back yet. People often see only the end result. But the real work happens in that in-between space, where nothing is certain, and everything is still becoming.

Even the masters struggled

It’s funny… when I feel like that, I sometimes think of Monet. He was known to destroy his own paintings, literally slashing them with a knife, because they didn’t meet his standards. Monet. The master of water lilies. He destroyed hundreds of his works over the years. Not because they were bad. But because he was fighting with them. Just like every artist does at some point. I find that strangely comforting.

And then something shifts

What usually happens, and it doesn’t come with fireworks, is that something tiny changes. A line lands right. A color finally breathes. A moment of softness appears in the chaos. And just like that, the painting starts to meet me halfway. Not perfectly. But enough for me to keep going. Most of my favorite paintings went through this phase. The ones that now live in homes around the world, the pieces collectors fall in love with, almost didn’t make it. They were once “the problem child” on my floor.

The truth behind the beauty

So yes, behind every polished, elegant artwork you see, there was a messy, uncertain middle. A moment where I didn’t know if it would work out. And maybe that’s why the finished piece holds so much energy. Because it’s not just paint and canvas. It’s hours of doubt, of stubbornness, of choosing not to give up. (And no… I’ve never slashed a painting like Monet did. But I’ve been close. I did, however, cut them into pieces with scissors!)

 

Love,

Wendy