Have you asked this question lately?

Do you ever stop to ask questions about your work?

As a fairly intuitive painter, this is something I had to learn. My natural default position is to simply keep working. I try this, I try that, and sometimes it works out. Often it doesn't.

But over the last year or so, I've learned to enjoy taking more pauses and asking more questions. I was reminded of these pauses by this week's Art2Life podcast episode which is entitled Take a Guilt-free Break from Your Art.

This is a great podcast with lots of gems, so do go listen to the whole thing. One of the questions mentioned in the episode is "what do I need more of?"

This is something I also ask myself (or the flip question which is "what do I have too much of?")

Both of these questions bring you to the same place, by the way, so it doesn't matter which one you ask.

The reason they work so well is that they force us to step back and reflect.

Maybe my painting has a lot of texture, but very little shape or colour. So I may say - "hmm it needs a little more shape and colour." Or maybe my painting is filled with vibrant colour and perhaps it's too much; perhaps there is nowhere for the eye to rest. In this case I might decide I have too much colour and need some neutrals.

The question then gives me the solution as to what to do next. I don't have to know the final result - I only ever need to know the next step. 

Once I take the next step (let's say adding neutrals) I now have something else to react to and - if I get stuck - I can ask the question again. 

I think this is the key - just realising that we only ever need to know just one step ahead. Too many artists try to see to the end. They want to know what the final result is going to look like, and they focus all their energy on that final result. But actually, art-making is much more exciting when we don't know exactly where we are going. (And this applies just as much to realistic work as to abstract).

Don't you want to be surprised?

Or do you always want to know exactly where you're going, so you can colour in between the lines and make exactly what you imagined?

There is no right and wrong, but if you want the genuine joy that comes from making something you never imagined - then you will have to let go of the need for a quick result. And you will have to let go of needing to know where you are going.

When you do that, you make room for the magic. 

But here's the next question: if this is true in our art, might it also be true in our lives? 

Maybe we could take the same approach to making life decisions? Not having to know everything, just having to know the next step. We could just ask: what do I need more of? (Or what do I need less of?)

A busy mum might say "I need more 'me' time."

A lonely retiree might say "I need to meet new people."

A person who is unfit might say "I need more movement."

We don't have to know where that will lead and that's quite a revolutionary thought for most of us. We have been taught to set goals and then make a plan and then execute the plan. The problem is that the result can seem so unattainable that it freezes us.

We don't have to start with a huge goal like "I want to lose 50lbs" or "I want to run a marathon" because that might feel overwhelming and we may never make a start.

But what if we said: "I need less fried food."

Or "I need to move more."

These are much more manageable decisions AND they are still leading us in the right direction. 

I am not going to claim I have been good at this in life - actually this idea only occurred to me when listening to Nick speaking on his podcast - but I am definitely going to give it a go. It just makes a lot of sense to me.

Maybe it does to you too?