The Way Forward

Last week I sketched a picture of a girl gazing up into the branches of an old tree. I drew the tree leaning over the girl protectively along with a flutter of butterflies gliding out of the branches above the girl’s head. Looking at the sketch, I could feel the emotion in it. I could feel the story it was telling: the tree, bent by past storms had become a beautiful, safe place for travelers.

There are so many decisions to make when turning a sketch into a painting. I have to decide what colors suite the composition best, where to add detail, and where to leave negative space. There are so many directions I could go—many of which would lead to a beautiful illustration. But which one will best communicate the emotion and meaning I’m reaching for? I’m rarely certain so I just make an educated guess.

For this illustration I decided to use mostly darker colors so that the light-colored butterflies would stand out clearly. I also added an impressionistic tree-line into the background. For leaves, I dabbed little dots of lighter green paint, hoping to give the tree a sparkly look.

Absolutely none of this worked like I’d hoped. Not one single decision seemed to go in the right direction. As I sat staring at the painting after having worked on it for a few hours, it was clear to me that the deep emotion and story from the original sketch was not translating into the painting. The painting was not saying what I wanted it to say.

This happens from time to time, and when it does I step away from my canvas for a day or two—sometimes more. I don’t stop thinking about it though. I think about it while going for a walk or driving to the store, I think about it first thing in the morning and as I’m falling asleep at night. I pray about it too and ask God to please bless my imagination, and I use my imagination to consider what my painting would look like if I’d chosen a totally different path for it.

Eventually I see the way forward.

In the case of this latest illustration, the way forward was starting over. I brushed over the whole picture with pale, yellow paint so that I could only barely see the lines of the tree and the girl looking up into its branches.

This may sound exhausting or discouraging—like the decision to start over was backwards movement. But I’ve learned that sometimes it is in fact a type of forward movement. There can be joy in starting over when it’s the right thing to do. There’s something brave and adventurous about it—it’s like rolling up my sleeves and saying, “I’m not finished yet. This is going to be beautiful!”

Blessings to you as you press forward, even when you find yourself starting back at the beginning. Remember that God is walking with you, you are not finished yet, and this is going to be beautiful!

~Amy