Failure: A Constant in Our Lives

Mario, the training ground for failures (wait...)

I’ve been playing video games ever since I can remember. Around the age I was born, video games began to make their emergence into the average American home, so it shouldn’t be a big surprise that I was cutting my teeth on games like Super Mario Brothers, Duck Hunt, and The Legend of Zelda. The NES (Nintendo Entertainment System) held my attention for as long as my parents would allow. Due to a lack of funds (I was a kid) and frugal parents, we didn’t have a very large collection of games, so if my brother and I wanted to play, we’d have to persevere through difficult stages and adapt to controls that were, at first, a major challenge. Over time, we developed skills and patience, trying new things and mastering levels and uncovering secrets that were hidden for only the best players to find. Our early failures and our motivation in spite of the struggles enabled us to enjoy to the utmost the games we played.

In stark contrast, a few years ago, my niece would want to play my Mario games, but would quickly succumb to quitting or playing the same early levels over and over again in order to not face the challenge of further stages. She would even resort to handing the controller off to me, so that I could get through the difficult areas. My niece was so bothered by the idea of failing that she was more likely to give up or not even enjoy the game by playing it. The challenge and the risk of struggle outweighed the desire to progress or gain some expertise that would ultimately lead to her satisfaction and freedom in playing the game.

How often is this like us, especially as artists and craftsmen (or even in other areas of our lives)? The art world and how we are received can be a very intimidating thing, for sure, but are we really helping ourselves when we are terrified of failure? This fear of failure is so ingrained within our society that it forces people into modes of operation that prevent personal growth and promote a kind of lowest common denominator approach to living. I think that most motivated people eventually move beyond this stage of their life at some point, but for many talented and intelligent people the fear is stronger than the will and ends up choking out their reason and hope.

In fact, you can see it in schools. Most adolescents are afraid of ridicule to a certain degree (a form of “failure”) and end up stunting their growth as individuals and students in order to fit in with a certain crowd. They end up wearing masks and putting up shields so that their true selves will remain safe from the jabs and criticisms, while the outer facade is open to the blows. And the outer facade is much more capable of subverting any social destruction because it’s moldable and easy to change or ditch when the time calls for it. In my own life, I had a lot of growing to do in this area, as I found myself being different around different groups, in order that I would be accepted and praised.

Oh, high school, you're hallways are always so crowded

This may seem like it’s heading in the direction of “be your own unique little snowflake” territory, but that’s not where I’m trying to go. I’m more interested in subverting the notion that people shouldn’t fail. That failure is not an option. For sure, we aren’t hoping to fail. Shooting for failure isn’t commendable. However, knowing that we fail and accepting that we fail and learning from our failures instills upon us a confidence in the processes of life and growth.

I once heard a story of a professor who, during an assembly of students, declared that it was alright to fail. That many people fail in life at certain times and that it is through failure we can learn and become better. So, when a student fails an assignment, it gives that student time and motivation to reflect on why they failed and what they can do better next time. And that it is not the end of the world, but a step forward in their process of learning. This should give students hope that a failed class or a failed project will not stop them from getting better and even eventually producing great work. The students at the assembly were silent regarding this announcement, mostly due to the environment of the institute, which heralded results and success instead of learning. Another professor spoke up and declared that he, himself, had never failed a class and that he was proud of that accomplishment, because it proclaimed that he worked hard and was able to show what he was made of. The students applauded this announcement and fed the overwhelming ego of this professor.

So, it may come down to pride. Are we so proud that we are devastated by failures? Are we so proud that we can’t show when we are weak? If we look back at history’s greatest success stories and leaders, they aren’t filled with people who were afraid of failure. The greatest inventors built their lives around the notions of failure, submitting their minds and imaginations to the natural forces which ruled outside of their control. The social and national revolutions that brought great change and progress to the world were not held back by the idea of failure and, in fact, failed often. Abraham Lincoln is famously known for being a political failure for most of his career, yet he lives on in our history books as the greatest American president. Michael Jordan was cut from his high school basketball team, yet is now known as the greatest basketball player of all time. Albert Einstein could not speak fluently until he was nine years old and was expelled from school for being “slow”, yet he is now synonymous with genius. These are people who worked beyond their failures, using failure as a fuel for motivation and for strength, so that when the time for another challenge would come, they would then be prepared and ready to fight.

The Face of Failure

When failure happens, which it will, we can either be debilitated by it or treat it as a natural and common occurrence which will enable us to work past it, in order that we will not make the same mistakes again. There is no guarantee that we will have moved beyond whatever made us fall victim to failure, but there is the hope that we will learn from that failure and make the required changes, enabling us to grow and blossom.

In closing, I think humility is a much stronger antidote to the failures of life than pride. The person who fails while in a state of pride and glory, will take a much larger fall than the person who knows their humble status and works with confidence towards their goals. As they say, the bigger they are, the harder they fall. When we know we will fail at times, we are comfortable with moving forward afterwards, using what we have learned in the process. The hare was much more capable of winning the race, but fell into laziness because his confidence was derived from his pride in his abilities. He was not teachable. He thought that the whole race was no contest because he was so overqualified. Yet he lost. The tortoise, facing failure, still worked steadily, striving and moving, losing and losing and falling behind. In the end, the tortoise won. Not because of some intrinsic quality, but because in the face of failure, he moved forward. Meanwhile, the hare lost and couldn’t take the failure, because it pulled the rug out from underneath him. He went on to a life of heroin addiction. Or something. I may be confusing my tales here.

Look at the self-satisfied smugness. The tortoise has your number, man!

I’ll end with a nod towards Van Gogh, since this is an art blog and all, a man who is renowned as the cream of the crop of modern artists and the face of artistic genius. One of the most brilliant artistic minds in history was a huge failure. His paintings never sold, but for one to a relative. His style wasn’t respected. His life was lived in poverty and mental anguish. His dreams of being a missionary and evangelist, proclaiming the Gospel, were brought to an end when he was fired as a preacher. His life was, in all respects, failing. Constant failure. Yet most people don’t realize that he was always working on his art. His art wasn’t incredible from the get-go, like most everyone thinks. For sure, he had a tremendous ability, even early on (especially in the honesty of his work), but it was due to his endless studying and working that his art became so magnificent. As you struggle, as you debate with yourself, as you face failure, know that you’re not alone. In fact, you’re in good company.

"I've missed more than 9,000 shots in my career. I've lost almost 300 games. 26 times, I've been trusted to take the game-winning shot and missed. I've failed over and over and over again in my life. And that is why I succeed." Michael Jordan

Vocab Lesson: Impasto

Van Gogh, making pretty pictures.

Impasto -  the thick application of a pigment to a canvas or panel in painting; also :  the body of pigment so applied (from Merriam-Webster)

No new painting student ever goes the impasto route (unless we're talking finger-painting pre-schoolers). Paint is expensive, money is tight, and being liberal with the tubed goo doesn't seem to make sense. Even I was victim to the thin paint blues, not knowing what I would do with so much paint and afraid to be too forthright with my approach. I was even guilty of using my brushes on the canvas in a way that suggested the technique of a house painter, doing the ol' back and forth action. Don't be like that. Live a little!

At the very least, it is good practice to forget about the cost of paint for a moment and just take the plunge into impasto technique. This is especially true for those that are attempting short still life studies or plein air painting, as time is a factor. The more paint you use, the quicker you'll be towards a finished-looking painting. Even if your overall painting style develops into a more subdued and thin application, you'll have had the experience of utilizing larger swaths of paint, giving yourself more feel for what the medium can do, and what may or may not work well.

Rembrant, an early pioneer of thick paint techniques.

For a real foray into the technique, find a way to work with your palette knife as your applicator, instead of a brush. You'll really challenge the way you understand the function of the paint, especially as a vessel for tone, color, and plane change. Interesting textures will arise and you'll find yourself absorbing so much more knowledge of the materials than you would had you simply resigned yourself to doing the same old thing. Don't do the same old thing.

Also, try hog hair! That will get you some nice meaty textures. If you want to paint anything similar to Lucian Freud's most famous works, you'll need to get some hog hair brushes. Make sure to scoop that paint and don't mess with it after it hits the canvas. Just let it sit. If it's not sitting right, don't be afraid to wipe it off. Just don't push it around.

Lastly, remember that oil paint should be applied fat over lean. This means that the layers closer to the canvas should be thinner than the layers on top. This allows the oils in the paints to sit more comfortably and reduces the amount of cracking that can happen as paint dries. Impasto is a perfect approach in regards to this information, so give it a shot. If you want to make sure you're getting things looking correct before you go nuts with the paint, just do a simple underpainting and slowly gear yourself up for the bold moves you'll be making later. I think you'll soon see that paint is very versatile and has qualities that are not seen as clearly or with as much appreciation as when it is applied with some thickness.

Cordelia Wilson, exhibiting impasto technique with subdued colors

Proportions

Van Gogh - Skull

(Please note that the works I show throughout this article were done by men who are known more for their journeys into abstraction rather than intense detail, while still adhering to representative painting. This is to illustrate the greater importance of generally correct proportions rather than strict detail.)

Correct proportions solve many drawing problems. They are the basis of our understanding of what an object is. If I can understand the shape of an object along with how it looks in scale to another object, I'm well on my way to having a proper understanding of what I am seeing. In fact, due to the high proficiency of our brains in learning and cataloging what we see and experience, oftentimes we can calculate what an object is even while it is partially obscured or seen with blurry vision. So, the artist is at an advantage if he or she can express their subject with good proportions.

This is easier said than done, of course, but it should take some of the pressure off of the artist, in that there will be some emphasis taken off of the details. While it is certainly true that a detailed work can be impressive and that the "devil is in the details", so to speak, there is a reason that artists through the ages have taught a general-to-specific approach to their work. More important than the details are correct proportions and relationships. Think of Cezanne or a Monet - they are convincing their audience while only relaying limited information.

Cezanne - La Mont Sainte Victoire

Monet - Waterloo Bridge

In my experience, even the most amateur artist can have a successful drawing, just by representing their subjects with good proportions. The angles can be off (although good proportions will generate good angles; and vice versa), the line quality may be off, the light and shadow may not be rendered very well, or any other variety of problems may plague the work, but good proportions will relay the information needed by the audience to understand what they are looking at.

Proportions are essentially measurements. There are different ways to go about taking these measurements and applying them to your work. I use one of two different methods depending on my subject matter and style. One is the technique I've used most of my life. It involves picking a point and working out from it - for instance, I may be drawing a face and will choose to start with the eye and slowly work out from it, in different directions, measuring intuitively and based upon what I've already marked. This method is not easy and can quickly go awry, being unnoticeable at first, but evident at the end, as shapes are a little wonky or angles are a little off. The reason being that it is more difficult to see the whole, when you are so focused on the parts. If you have a skilled eye, you may not run into this issue. I never had much of a difficulty with it. This is typically a good approach when dealing with copying from a 2D source.

However, as I have received more education, challenged myself by drawing from life, and diversified my styles, I have had to employ the more traditional approach of moving from large shapes to small shapes. The best way to measure proportions in this way, is to work with angles. Seeing relationships between outer edges and inner edges, rhythmic lines, how parts fit with each other, and just attempting to be accurate with shapes are the keys to measuring with this method. It's difficult to explain with words, but is more obvious in action. This method requires drawing lightly, connecting points to other points, and slowly building the subject up by establishing where the planes are and how they relate to one another. This is a fantastic approach to establishing general proportions and initial composition, as it declares immediately what it is that you are drawing.

Hopefully later on I can post a video or step sequence to show exactly what I mean by both of these techniques. In the meantime, try to experiment with both approaches and train yourself to loosen up and communicate the whole, rather than the parts.

"Art, like morality, consists in drawing the line somewhere." G.K. Chesterton