"There ain't no guru who can see through your eyes." 
-- John Lennon

"How do I capture light in my landscapes?"

"How can I communicate my feelings in paint?"

"How can I use paint to show that life is about more than what we see with our eyes?"

These are all questions I have been asked at one time or another. They are also questions that have guided and shaped the careers of some of the world's leading artists.

Claude Monet spent a lifetime struggling with light in his landscapes, often destroying canvases in desperation and anger.

Jackson Pollock revolutionised contemporary art with his action painting method, in which he literally hurled his emotions onto canvas.

Pablo Picasso and Georges Braque developed cubism as a way to go beyond our surface impressions.

Each of these artists had questions and each found a way to answer them.

This is what it means to be an artist. We set ourselves a problem and then we head out on a journey to find the answer (or answers). We are - like the crew of the Starship Enterprise - continually exploring new frontiers. We boldly go where no-one has gone before.

We are not assigned our challenges by anyone else - Monet wasn't charged by a supervisor with finding a way to depict light. Pollock wasn't called into the manager's office and tasked with finding a new approach to expression. (LOL can you imagine? .... "Jackson, have you been drinking again?")

No, they pursued their own fascinations and found their own answers.

And yet many aspiring artists do the opposite. Instead of experimenting, we ask.

For example, one of the most common questions I hear is: "How can I go from realistic landscapes to abstract landscapes?"

I know the artist wants a clear set of instructions. She wants me to tell her that if she first does (a) then (b) and then (c), she will be well on her way. She doesn't want to waste time and materials, so asking seems to make perfect sense.

And in any other walk of life, it would. Someone has already discovered the best way to cook a steak or to grow strawberries. So if you want to cook a steak or grow strawberries, it makes sense to ask them. It saves time and money and gets the desired result.

Art isn't like that. Art is about unique expression.

Monet discovered how to translate his idea of light into paint and Pollock found a way to express his feelings on a canvas - but those are not your answers. Neither man knew how to make YOUR art. They did not know your demons or your passions or the things that excite you or the things that keep you awake at night. They didn't experience your loves or your losses. They didn't live in your homes or raise your children or meet your friends. They didn't experience your struggles or celebrate your wins. Quite simply, they didn't live your life.

This means that any attempt to superimpose their answers onto your work will inevitably result in disappointment. The art won't look like yours and it won't feel like yours and it will leave a gaping hole in your neglected artist's heart.

The same applies if I - or any other art teacher - offers a formula for how to do the thing you long to do. I am giving you my way based on my life and personality and interests and passions - and that is useless to you.

This is why you can take a 'follow the teacher' class and feel totally lost when it ends. You learned nothing about yourself and therefore, you learned nothing of value.

So there's nothing wrong with asking "how do I abstract my landscapes?" or "how do I create a sense of drama in my portraits?" These are excellent questions - but they need to be asked of the right person, and that person is you.

Once we realise that all the answers live inside of ourselves, we can relax into the journey of discovery; we can accept as John Lennon once sang that "there ain't no guru who can see through your eyes," and we can embark on making our own unique art.

Now that's what I call exciting!