Tyler Worthington
I consider myself an artist, but more accurately I would describe myself as a perfectionist who on occasion manages to create artwork despite that. When people tell me “you are your own worst critic”, I don’t think they can really understand the magnitude by which it applies to me. It is very hard for me to accept that something I made was “good” or even “okay”, since my mind is filled with every single invisible and minute mistake I made during the process. I rarely, if ever, make a new year’s resolution, but for 2020 and my 25 th birthday on the horizon, I decided to try and figure out, through my own art, how to find a way around that train of thought. That maxim was challenged every step of the way from inside and outside of the studio at every angle, but I think I came out of it with an interesting conclusion.
I don’t like looking at myself. I do not like being seen in public. It just makes me uncomfortable. So, why then, would I want to do a self-portrait of myself? Aren’t self-portraits an act of vanity? Obviously not. It is certainly cheaper than hiring a model. Even further, why a painting? Out of all the things I would be willing to admit I am good, or at least competent at, painting would be at the bottom of that list. There’s something in my brain that prevents me from expressing myself while holding a paintbrush in front of a canvas. I think I was driven towards those choices since it felt like such a big obstacle. How rewarding would it be to conquer two of my biggest faults in one go?
Predictably, this was biting off more than I could chew. No sketches or photos for reference. Not even a mirror to look at myself. “Just paint a portrait of yourself” is an easy thing to say, and even easier thing to think to yourself “oh, I could do that”. You don’t anticipate the days, or even weeks of time that you sit in front of a surface watching it slowly dry as you build up the courage to dip your brush back into the dirty water and lay down another color. It got very dark for me in that attic crawl space. Not just literally dark as the sun began setting through the one window. I began thinking about myself in the abstract seeing the painting looking back at me. It was like staring at yourself in the mirror for so long you start to forget what a normal face looks like. Then you start thinking about how other people might see you. Further and further down a spiral.
I wanted to quit numerous times. There were certainly more “productive” things I could be doing. This amount of effort for such a poor product would logically dictate scrapping the whole thing and moving on. Lesson learned. Ironically, I had this exact thought while listening to the ballroom classic “Let’s call the whole thing off”. You really can’t ask your shuffle for a more thematic selection. But like the lyrics of the song, people are different from one another. They may like the same things but for different reasons. Does that mean they are incompatible? That one line of thought is superior? Quite the opposite, in actuality. Speaking and expressing oneself from your perspective defines your humanity. It makes you who you are. So, I decided to let myself breathe and just do whatever felt natural. If it is bad, then let it be bad. Slowly but surely, the pain subsided. My strokes became more confident. I found intention rather than worry. It was finished.
The final product isn’t what I envisioned. But that’s hardly warranted since I had no vision. But I DID find something between those off-kilter marks and deformed shapes. We’d like to think of ourselves as machines in the way we learn. However, I find that dishonest. I’m not an automaton, and you bring so much more into the studio than just materials and a pair of headphones. During this process, I learned to embrace my humanity. I want to paint like a child, I want to sculpt crude and ugly forms, I want to make a buffoon of myself because it is my choice and my passion to do so. Because it is still me.