when is it time to sand away a painting? ACCEPTANCE OF FAILURE

There are times when a painting just doesn't sit right with me, but I can't always put my finger on it straight away. I might convince myself that it's just part of the artistic journey and that this particular piece has simply taken a quirky detour. But then, all the little imperfections start to become more noticeable. They seem to pop out and even shout at me about all the mistakes or aspects I could have done differently. Eventually, I can't ignore them any longer and the painting starts to grate on my nerves. Sometimes, it even takes me weeks to fully accept that I'm not happy with it. Then comes the point where I can't bear to look at it anymore and I can't wait to get my sander out to erase it. Trust me, I never regret doing this. I reckon I've probably discarded as many paintings as I've kept. I'm certain that there are some boards I've sanded down more than once. The tangibility of erasing a painting is oddly satisfying to me. Scrubbing away a painting feels like a peculiar form of self-torture - I'm acknowledging my shortcomings and not allowing the painting a second shot at existence. It simply can't stay.

I love the idea that no one will ever see that version again and usually, I already have an idea for what I'm going to paint in its place. This gives me a clean slate, a fresh start. Some artists talk about a fear of the blank canvas, but I've never felt that. It's probably because I'm not a perfectionist. I often get so caught up in the joy of painting that I let myself get carried away instead of pacing myself and taking my time.

Sometimes, I find myself puzzled over why I take such pleasure in discarding these paintings. I think the answer leads me back to my self-regard. Nothing is sacred. If I can create one unsatisfactory painting, I'm capable of doing it again. Wiping it away propels me forward, leaving no room for second-guessing. I'm not interested in leaving anything that feels like a half-measure. It's a negotiation with myself, and it feels like it might constrain my self-expression.

There are times when I feel uncertain about some paintings I've created. Honestly, maintaining a collection of such works just doesn't sit well with me. The term "legacy" often comes to mind when reflecting on my art. However, to me, it’s not about pomp and grandeur; it's about what I leave behind – something that I approve of now that I’m willing to let go into the world.