The Cultivating Artist is a column that seeks to encourage and empower fellow makers. The work of an artist—that reach toward something beautiful—can feel daunting, especially at the beginning. Negative thoughts threaten to steal away sparkling possibilities. I’ve learned that by dwelling on thoughts that are lovely and true, I can fight discouragement and keep moving forward one brush stroke at a time. I want to help you fight and persevere in your work too. Here, I’ll be coming alongside you with encouragement and stories from my own life, reminding you that you’re not alone.
In junior high I was chosen as the main character in a play. It wasn’t a grand thing, more like a vignette. But I was excited to be chosen and eagerly began learning my lines. I was playing the part of Scarlett O’Hara in an especially silly parody of Gone with the Wind. I’m guessing I was chosen for my voice. I only had to exaggerate my natural accent a little to capture Scarlett’s Southern drawl.
The play opened with me standing on the stage in a borrowed hoop skirt and shabby antebellum dress. About halfway through the short production, as I stared out over the audience of my fellow students, my mind went blank mid-sentence. I couldn’t remember what came next. It was supposed to be an exchange between me and another character, played by a tall blonde boy from the grade below me. For some reason he was dressed like a baby in a ruffled bonnet, holding a bottle. I can’t remember what his character had to do with the story, but without my own crucial next lines, his only speech in the short play would be entirely cut out.
And so it was.
I still remember the feeling of being on stage with all those eyes on me—the tall blonde boy dressed like a baby, glaring, and my mind totally blanked.
Every time I release original paintings, it’s a little like stepping on stage. I feel some trepidation. Because, what if none of them sell? What if I announce, New Paintings Are Live On My Website Now! to the sound of crickets? Will it be like forgetting my lines with everyone watching? Thankfully, most of the time a decent number of paintings sell and I’m spared that experience.
However, not so long ago I did launch some paintings and you could have heard a pin drop. And it did feel a bit like I’d imagined it would. But you know what’s wonderful? Even in those awkward moments, God reminds me that He is my identity. He’s my hope and security. Nothing else can claim, in truth, to be anything close to what He is. He has made me who I am—He has given me an imagination, a love for stories, and a longing to create and share. In that way I reflect Him.
And for that reason, even after an unsuccessful launch day, regardless of the outcome, I can continue putting one foot in front of the other. Or in this case, just painting the next picture. It’s an act of faith, of fidelity to the Great Creator. A movement sparked by the belief that God will accomplish whatever He chooses and that I am His and He is mine. And that He always chooses better things than I can imagine.
That reminds me of one of my favorite quotes. It’s about a woman who earnestly tried to accomplish all kinds of noble endeavors, but none of them really panned out. And yet, kindness and faithfulness were woven throughout her failed attempts and they bore beautiful results she’d never imagined.
“But the effect of her being on those around her was incalculably diffusive: for the growing good of the world is partly dependent on unhistoric acts; and that things are not so ill with you and me as they might have been, is half owing to the number who lived faithfully a hidden life, and rest in unvisited tombs.”[1]
Blessings to you as you keep going! Remember, God hasn’t called you to accomplishment. Only to faithfulness.
[1] George Eliot, Middlemarch, 838.
The featured image, “Orange Berries,” is courtesy of Lancia E. Smith and is used with her glad permission for Cultivating.
For Amy, it all starts with a story. As a child, fairytales and fantastic illustrations captivated her mind and sparked her imagination. All her art originates from the stories she writes. She sees her “story paintings” as windows that provide just enough to start the observer down the path but leave a little mystery to ignite their imagination.
Light shining out of the darkness is her favorite and most recurring theme. Amy, a columnist for Cultivating Magazine, believes that artwork that reflects goodness & truth can bring light into our lives and give us hope.
She enjoys a quiet life with her husband and two daughters, in a house full of treasured books and bright colors. A sleek, black cat and a nervous, brown rabbit keep her company each day while she paints.
You are definitely one of those special people who are making this world a better place, not only by your beautiful artwork, but by your honest and vulnerable stories.