The Story Behind Transformation

There was a time whereby I thought I needed to change so I set out on a journey to examine, adjust or improve parts of myself. I thought about things I was unhappy with and thought about things that might need fixing. 

This is often how my work functions: thoughts and experiences become images rather than neat written explanations.  I have written more about that in Why I Don’t Journal With Words.

This particular piece, I like to call Transformation. Except Transformation is about arriving somewhere I had not expected.

Perhaps there had been nothing wrong with me in the first place.

You can view Transformation and it's artwork details here.

From a Digital Image to a Large Yellow Canvas

Transformation existed first as a digital artwork. I later returned to it and decided to paint it on a much larger physical scale. Moving it from a screen to a canvas changed my relationship with the image. It had become a physical one of a kind original piece of work and was no longer something I could move around quickly or alter with a tap. It demanded time, physical effort and repeated decisions.

The canvas was large and, rather precariously, balanced on a box while I worked. Using fluorescent greens and blues, vivid reds and yellows, and areas of rich black the painting started to take shape.

The larger it became, the more it began to feel as though it was looking back at me.

What Exactly Needed Changing?

The actual process of painting was a transformation in itself. At first, the process was calm and reflective. Again I found myself thinking about the things I disliked about myself and the things I wanted to improve. And again, I also began recognising the things I valued and was already happy with.

The painting was changing, but it was also giving me another space to examine the pressure to change my personality in order to belong.

How much of ourselves do we alter because we genuinely want to grow?

How much do we alter because we think other people would prefer us to be different?

And when does self-improvement become an attempt to turn yourself into somebody else?

A thought began to appear:

There’s nothing wrong with you anyway.

Apparently, the Painting Was Changing Me

The artwork developed gradually, but my own energy ebbed and flowed during the process. Although, I get fully immersed in my work and time just passes by, it can be a very tiring process. 

The black eyes appeared. I experimented with blue and green. I used music in the background to keep me focused. 

At one point, orchestral Phil Collins was helping to drive everything forward and bring the drama!

The painting had not changed dramatically.

Apparently, I had.

The calm reflection was becoming louder, more physical and more energetic. The colours carried that shift. They were not there simply to make the canvas bright. They expressed the emotional release taking place while I worked.

I Asked My Painting Out for Dinner

Then Chris de Burgh’s Lady in Red entered the process and I became increasingly attached to the painting.

I spoke to it. I told it I loved it. I even asked it out for dinner.

This is perhaps not how every artist describes their working relationship with a canvas, but by that point the piece had developed its own presence so why not talk to it? 

Painting Can Feel Like a Fight

Near the end, the process changed again. I was tired and emotionally drained. Painting began to feel like a long boxing match, and I was on the ropes. I wondered whether I was losing momentum and whilst I didn't know if I would finish, I wasn't perhaps ready to finish either. 

Completing an artwork brings relief, but it can also bring sadness.

You spend so much time looking at it, questioning it, arguing with it and deciding what it needs. Then suddenly it no longer belongs entirely to that private process in the studio.

You have to let it go.

I Was Just Between Rounds

I played the Rocky theme tune and just when it reached it's energetic section, something shifted. The positive energy returned, the focus returned and I could see the way forward.

I had not lost the fight.

I was not finished.

I was simply between rounds.

There Was Nothing Wrong With Me Anyway

When the painting was finally complete, its central idea became clear.

I had begun with the belief that transformation meant identifying what was wrong and changing it.

Instead, the process led me towards self-acceptance.

That does not mean we never grow, question ourselves or decide to change something. It means recognising the difference between changing because we want to and changing because we believe we must become somebody else in order to belong.

The painting carries the entire journey: calm reflection, doubt, humour, risk, affection, exhaustion, renewed energy and eventual acceptance. 

Its final message surprised me.

After investing so much energy in transformation, perhaps the real victory was accepting the person who had started it.

What if the thing you thought needed fixing was never broken?

Ze