The Perfect Leaf

My friend recently celebrated her 40th over a “Pinot and Picasso” party. She being an artist wanted us to all join her and learn to paint a picture while drinking wine. While I am not artist, I thought it sounded like a bit of fun and was looking forward to it. And with a wine in my hand and good food … what could possibly go wrong? So the afternoon was filled with an artist taking us step by step through a painting of a flower. With a wine in one hand and a brush in the other we started with a blank canvas and sought to do as she instructed.

       

A number of friends, like me, who knew our limitations when it comes to art, were all prepared to give it a go and were looking forward to a laugh and some good times together. But I noticed that there was a variety of responses from people. Some, I found out later didn't come as they felt they would be embarrassed. Others made themself sick with worry about it leading up to the event and others struggled the whole time, getting frustrated with the process. I had come along expecting to be able to laugh at myself and my feeble attempt at painting a flower. In the end they all looked great and I was personally a little disappointed that we didn't have an opportunity to laugh a little more at the final results. 

One friend beside me voiced her frustration of not being able to paint the perfect leaf. She had painted 6 leaves and according to her only one was perfect. I asked which one was the one she thought was perfect. She showed me, and it looked like the typical leaf that you would draw when you are in Kindergarten. I asked her “What makes you think that is the perfect leaf?” In fact, the more I thought about it, is there actually such thing as a perfect leaf? At one point she got so frustrated she started to jump up and down on the spot. Me, showing my caring and sensitive side (not), simply laughed and told her to get herself another wine. 

It did, however, begin a conversation about the process and how worked up we can all get about things that don't really matter. 

As we went around the room, looking at each other’s paintings of the flower we were all copying, no picture looked the same. Every painting had such a different take on the same one visual we were all supposed to be copying. It was amazing and beautiful and so freeing. Like leaves on a tree, no one leaf is the same, each is unique and different. Sure, the general shape and colour might be similar, but it is so nice that nature leads the way in how we can celebrate creation in all its uniqueness. 

I especially loved the fact that in the process of painting if you didn't like something you could just paint over it or change it. And in the end if you couldn’t get it right, you had at least given it a go. But more often than not the part that didn't work to your exact plan, often became just the part that made your art special. 

“Making art provides uncomfortably accurate feedback about the gap that inevitably exists between what you intended to do and what you did.” (David Bayles and Ted Orland, Art and Fear - Image Continuum, 1993, pg 4) 

Now, I know I was not aiming for Picasso and I get that there are those who are not only gifted but take their art very seriously. But I also could see very quickly that if you took yourself too seriously you could easily miss the point of this experience. The point was not to paint the perfect leaf, but for us girls to be celebrating a friend’s birthday and enjoying the adventure together. What really mattered was that we were there, giving it a go, having a laugh and enjoying the process. 

We must always consider what we focus on. You may miss the point along the way if you focus on the wrong thing. 

I wonder how many things we miss out on, because we are so worried about doing something perfectly that we don't do anything at all. I know I will never have the problem. Perfection is not something I do well … so bring on the next challenge. 

“The most beauty will emerge from the paintbrushes held by those who are most free from fear” (Lysa TerKeurst, “It’s not supposed to be this way: Finding unexpected Strength when disappointments leave you shattered”, pg 215)