Let's Do An Experiment!: Sculpture-Painting The Equine Eye

Introduction

Truth be told, I’ve never been fully satisfied with how I’ve been painting eyes on various sculptures. Not even the very best of my painted eyes could actually capture how they truly look like in life, could they? I mean, you look at them from the front and, well...not quite, right? Now yes, I'm doing the best I can with what I’ve been handed: A complete “in the round” sculpture. The problem is, I'm operating within a flawed paradigm from the onset! 

But not today! Because to this end, I’ve always wanted to do an experiment: To render the equine eye as anatomically accurate as it’s structured in life as I can, into the sculpture and the paintwork. This would necessitate a very different sculpting of the eye and subsequent treatment in paintwork and glossing, but it’s an idea that’s been tickling my toes for years. And well, the only way around it is through it, right? So let’s do an experiment! Let’s finally put my percolating idea to the test to see if it actually renders an equine eye more anatomically accurate and so more realistic in person! Let’s go!…

The Dilemma

Here’s the fundamental problem: Through the past to today, we’ve had to paint on top of a rounded sculpted eye, right? But the problem is, that’s not actually how the equine eye is anatomically constructed. Anatomically, the iris is more flattish, not rounded, so the pupil isn’t sitting on the outside of the orb, but inside the contour of the orb. Instead then, it’s the cornea and the aqueous chamber that form the rounded aspect of the orb over the iris, not the iris and pupil.

The Hypothesis

So how do we get around this problem? Well, we shave down the rounded eye to be more flat in the iris area, and we paint our iris on that flattened aspect then when we’re done painting, we build up layers of clear gloss to mimic the cornea and aqueous chamber that forms the rounded aspect of the orb. That should come closer to how the equine eye is actually constructed and therefore should look more authentic. At least, that’s my hypothesis. So let’s test it!

Preparation

First, we need to know a little bit about equine eye anatomy, specifically the iris, sclera, and limbus (grey line) in order to get them right in painting. In this, the iris and pupil should be on the flatter surface and the grey line should occur where that flat meets the rounded part, leaning into the rounded part. 

Methods

Step 1: Shaving Down The Orb

I had to determine the expression of my piece immediately because how that orb is swiveled will determine where the iris is located which will determine where I shave it down. So I decided to have my eye look a little bit backwards (sclera in front) so I then knew I had to place my iris back a little bit. I penciled in the area I would shave flatter (Figure 1) then I used a Dremel small diamond bit to do this (use all PPE) and I took quite a bit off (Figure 2). I did a little sanding to smooth things out more evenly, gave the area a wash with water and let it air dry, then I was ready for primer to create my blank canvas.

Step 2: Painting

I approached this just as I would paint a conventional eye, but in a literal way. That’s to say, no jewel-like cabochon shading and highlighting as I usually paint my dark eyes. Why? Because I wanted to see exactly how it would all look in the most baseline way first (Figure 3).

However, I did do a secondary experiment on the other eye, treating it in that jewel-like cabochon way because I wanted to see how this method would work with that as well (Figure 4 and 5).

Speaking of which, I also did a third and fourth eye experiment on another junker, quickie painting them blue in the literal way on one side, and then in a cabochon way on the other side (Figure 6). Again, I wanted to see how all this would work with that color of eye, too.

And as a fifth experiment, I added the corpora nigra on the upper portion on the pupil of one of the brown eyes with a teensy bit of black paint to add dimension, because I've always wanted to see how that would look, too (Figure 3). It was so tiny though, it didn't make much of a difference. It might be worth another experiment on a larger eye though.

Then as a sixth experiment, I added the "blue glint" of the tapetum lucidum on one brown eye pupil and one blue eye pupil to see how that would look as well. I simply used Golden Interference Blue for that in a thin layer on the pupil. So many experiments! It’s a madhouse here! A madhouse! (Cue mad scientist laughter.) (Figure 4 and Figure 6, on the cabochon eyes)

Step 3: Glossing

I let that paint dry then it was time to add in the “cornea” and “aqueous chamber” with gloss. This was the tricky part! You see I wanted to avoid three things:

• Messiness: The glossing had to be precise and tidy. Any hint of carelessness would ruin the result. However, I wasn't as careful as I could've been, granted, but you get the idea. I imagine had I been more careful, the result might have been better...or maybe not.
• Slumping: I had to apply the gloss in successive layers, letting each layer dry in-between to avoid slumping. That orb had to be rounded, not slumped oblong and weird. So while it was hard to exercise patience — I wanted to see if this would work right now (shrieked like Veruca Salt) — I had to go in careful, methodical steps. However, the surface tension of the gloss was enough to keep it in place so I didn't have to place the model on its side.
• Clouding: I had to be sure that the gloss wouldn’t get cloudy with gobs of it on there or yellow with age. So I veered away from nail polish and veered towards DecoArt Americana Triple Thick Brilliant Brush On Gloss Glaze. This produces a hyper-glossy finish and it’s thicker and not so prone to slumping like nail polish. I suppose you could also use Liquitex Gloss Medium, too, but I’m thinking it would need a lot more layers to build up that roundness than the DecoArt Gloss. It also doesn't dry to such a hard finish, staying relatively gummy, which I thought might be a problem with longterm durability.

So to actually apply the gloss, I added a dab on top of that flattened iris to create a rounded orb (Figure 7). Then I let that dry for two hours (the DecoArt Gloss takes a lot time to set up) with the model standing up as the surface tension was sufficient to keep it in place. Then I added a second dab and let that dry for another two hours. After that, I then glossed over the entire orb, adding a medium-thick layer to blend everything together. Then I let that dry overnight with the model standing up, as again, the surface tension of this gloss kept it from slumping.

Results

Well whadoya know! It worked! But did it work well enough? You can compare the brown eye effect with the blue eye effect from the front in Figure 8....

And here's the brown eyes up close (Figure 9). You can see that the left eye got a wee bit cloudy here. Note to self...

And here are the brown eyes from a bit aback so you can see the overall effect (Figure 10). What is cool about this process though is the "follow you around" effect it gives the eyes. It's particularly pronounced in the left eye because it was carved out bigger and flatter I suspect.

Here are the blue eyes up close, and you can see a bit better the subtle dimensionality this process imbues into the eye (Figure 11). It's a whisper, but its there...

And here's the blue eyes from farther away for an overall look (Figure 12). You might be able to see how much this process makes those eyes really "pop" out at you, with a glossier and more dimensional look.

You can't really see it well enough in the photos, but you can kinda see through the aqueous chamber when you see them from the front, but the effect is so painfully subtle. Overall then, the mean result is that pupils still look like they're painted "on top" from the front, for the most part. The aqueous chamber effect just isn't that pronounced, which is surprising given how much orb I removed and how much gloss I applied. However, the eyes do have that rather dimensional quality, and they even seem to follow you a bit, which is super cool. So yes, that dimensionality bumps up the effect equine eyes have in person, adding some improved believability and a slightly stronger impression. The thing is though, you have to see them in person to get the full effect as photos just aren't capturing that dimensionality quite as well as I would hope.

Now the thing is, I was a bit sloppy in both their painting and gloss application, I admit, but this was just a proof-of-concept experiment and I think you get the idea. That said though, there are a few things I learned in the process:

• Working on a bigger eye was definitely easier than a smaller one, especially when it came to glossing. So scale factors into this method big time. I would say anything smaller than a 1:12 scale just isn't a good candidate.
• The properly sculpted anatomical structure of the eye is really important for this process to look best. The more "off" the eye's structure, the more odd this effect looks only because these kinds of eyes have a lot more "pop."
• You've got to know your eye anatomy, particularly between the iris and the sclera and the grey line. And getting the proper placement of the grey line was critical, as it had to be just on the edge of the flattened area but still on the rounded part.
• Painting the iris and pupil is so much easier on a flatter surface!
• I think this approach would work with any color eye from brown and blue, as we've seen, to green, amber, tiger eye, yellow eye to even a marbled eye. And I wonder how a slight metallic sheen, like we can sometimes see on adult champagnes, would work, too. I bet it would.
• There was a lot of downtime per eye glossing plus overnight drying, allowing the gloss to dry properly. So I wonder if there's another type of gloss that dries quicker that would work, too? Might be worth a good search. This effect might also be a good reason to create these kinds of eyeballs in batches, in an assembly line, to get a bunch done at a time.
• The PAM's eyes got a snidge cloudy around the pupil since I applied more gloss onto them than that SHS eyes, so I've made a mental note of that with this gloss.
• I would let the gloss on these eyeballs fully dry for a good week before wrapping and shipping, just to be safe. Make sure that gloss is really dry and hard.

Discussion

Wrap it all up, and I do have to ask if all this work was actually worth it, given the (surprisingly) paltry results. I'm going to venture a "no," the extra work isn't really worth it because the effect just isn't pronounced enough for my liking. But maybe it will be for yours? Dunno. I do really like the dimensionality and "follow you" effect quite a bit, but well, pairing it with how much much harder it was it keep things tidy with all that gloss involved, I'm wondering if that was worth it, too. Hmmm. I kinda doubt it.

And just keep in mind that if you plan to go this route, it requires defacement of an Artist Resin (often a big no-no) or customization of an OF, which may complicate its placement in a repaint-only class. It also isn’t quite possible with ceramic pieces as I don’t see how you can get around the gloss glaze slumping off the eye during the fire, and you certainly can’t add on cold-painted aspects after the fact. As such, I’m thinking this may only be appropriate for Customs or on ARs where you have special permission from the sculptor. 

What's more, with this penchant for stripping previously painted models, that practice will also strip away this effect on the eyes. This will necessitate a complete do-over so unless a painter is adept at this method, that's a real problem. I suppose if they aren't they can rebuild the eye into the "in the round" shape with epoxy clay and paint as per usual, but it would be a shame to destroy a perfectly cool eyeball done with this approach. The other option is to simply block out the eye with painter's tape and re-primer the piece to paint over it as that would preserve the eye treatment.

There’s this, too — will sculptors now have to account for this by sculpting in a flat surface onto their orbs? Hmmm. That’s a conundrum. For myself? I think not. I want my sculptures to stand-alone, to be whole and complete even without a paintjob so I’m going to continue to sculpt my eyes rounded out. Also, I want painters to pick their own expressions rather than being forced into one of my own. I dunno, I just think that's more fun. 

But as for myself and my Custom maquettes, I think I'll stick with modus operandi with eyes "in the round." I wish this experiment had a more successful result, but maybe it's good that it didn't. The paradigm shift it would've introduced would have opened up a huge can of worms we're perhaps better off without. But even so...I do so wish the results were better! Maybe I'll give it another good think and try another approach sometime in the future.

Conclusion

Well, there ya go — a clear example of how creative FAFO can be so darned valuable in your arting! Experimentation and exploration isn’t only fun, it can be far more important than you may realize whether you succeed or fail. You learn something incredibly useful either way, something that could even shift the direction of your methods or aesthetic! 

So if you have a novel idea, try it! Grab a junker and just try it! If it’s not dangerous, why not? What do you have to lose? Even if it implodes in failure, you’ll still have put something to the test and learned something new. And truth be told, failures can often be even more interesting than successes by presenting a lot more intriguing questions for new routes of discovery. 

Put on that lab coat then, don those goggles, and muss up your hair like a proper mad scientist, and get into that studio lab and commence your experiments! Cackle madly if you wish! Adopt that Cheshire cat grin! Tesla coils, beakers, and particle colliders, oh my! Sizzle! Pop! Whirrr! Any which way, develop a creative hypothesis and put it to the test. It’s fascinating, surprising, and super fun, and it could hold the key to an innovative evolution in your work! Go for it!

“Art is an adventure into an unknown world, which can be explored only by those willing to take risks.”

— Mark Rothko

Let's Do An Experiment!: Sculpture-Painting The Equine Eye

The Dented Can: Creating Imperfectly In An Imperfect World Part III

 

Introduction to Part III

Welcome back! We’re at the conclusion of this three-part series on imperfection as it relates to arting, particularly equine realism. We’ve come a long way on this journey, having discussed several weighty issues that pertain to the difficulties of making art when perfection is the goal. Because — blorg! What an impossible task! To attempt to make a “perfect” realistic equine piece is literally to forge off into a futile, doomed mission with no end! No wonder why perfectionists tend to spin their wheels so much. Their goal post keeps moving!

It’s said that Leonardo da Vinci quipped, ”Art is never finished, only abandoned.” Whether or not you agree with that, the point is, there comes a time when you just have to quit with this endless pursuit of perfection and call “done” only because you — if you’ve been paying attention — come to realize you simply cannot produce perfection. It’s just not ever in the cards, no matter how hard you try and redo and redo and redo. Maybe you’re exasperated, maybe you’re fried, maybe you’re bored, maybe you’re confused, maybe you just want to be done. Whatever the reason, it’s your inner voice telling you to stop chasing that windmill. Your horse is exhausted. Because perfection, in all its forms, is absolutely impossible in an imperfect world, in an imperfect universe, in an imperfect reality. So stop. But how do we process this release of perfectionism when our pieces have to be as perfect as possible? Well, we’ve explored that theme throughout this series, so let’s bookend it now with two important components to this journey…so let’s just gun it and go!…

The Imperfect Dream

Another thing I’ve learned in over thirty years in this biz is this: Most collectors don’t necessarily want realistic equines — they want dream equines, and that’s a very different order to fill. So despite all their espousing of realism this and realism that, of accuracy here and accuracy there, when push comes to shove, this community tends to choose what tugs at the heartstrings and the imagination over what tugs at the technicalities. They want to be enchanted more than anything else and reminded why they love horses in the first place. It's understandable. But I see it all the time, even today when ABC judging is the dominant evaluation platform. But here’s the thing: If you can ping both, that’s where the real magic happens! So aim for that! The gist of it is though: Don’t just focus on technical accuracies and workmanship — those are simply the incidental baselines to our art form, the “givens” that have to be there anyway. What you should also be focused on in equal measure are three additional things: 

• Narrative: What story are you telling in your piece? What sort of context, backstory, theme, or overarching tone or theme does this piece embody?
• Heart-grabbing: Does my piece speak to the heart and soul of the viewer in equal measure? It should remind people of why they love equines in the first place.
• Novelty: What new territory am I exploring with this piece whether a new way to express technicalities, your knowledge base, skillset, narrative, composition, concept, technique, media or what not? Seek to push yourself in some new direction with each piece.

So all this is to say that what the community says it wants isn’t necessarily what it wants. At its core, despite all the brouhaha and espoused demands, it really just wants to be inspired, to be reminded of why equines are our focus, our muse, and our passion. So if your work can do that  along with technical accuracy, you’ve got it on lock.

Recommended reading:

Top Hat n’ Tails: Steppin’ Out With Style

The Imperfect Plan

To get all these sensibilities in tow and moving forwards, we often do better with a plan, a map to get us to our goals. The thing is though, each artist must plot their own course according to their individual needs, so every map is different. But there are certain myths when it comes to map-making because what we definitely don’t need are:

• A perfect map or plan
• A perfect, flawless portfolio
• A perfect, amazing CV
• A five-year strategy or business plan
• Being “ready” to start

Nope. You see, all that will build and morph along the way on its own plus if we stick too hard to a fixed route on our map, we can find ourselves in the weeds pretty quickly all the same. In fact, our first maps can be wrong, be off-course, or become outdated to what we’re evolving into. And stay open to the random opportunity that may seem out of left field, but segues with our Voice nicely. So the trick here is to keep our map buildable and adaptable to our ongoing evolution while not betraying our Voice. So on that note, here’s what we do actually need for your map:

• A direction or goal: What do you want to accomplish in your art career? Be honest. And your direction can be a bit murky as it will probably morph along the way.
• Your Voice: Your driving sensibilities that dictate which routes you take, even the nature of your destination.
• Adaptability: Your resilience and ability to bounce around lets you reroute, get into new lanes, backtrack, and find new on-ramps and off-ramps as you need them.
• Keep showing up: Participate in the community, with your peers and colleagues and partners, make good use of social media, and engage your art in the happenings going on. But even more, keep showing up for your work — keep making it no matter what. Indeed, your love, perseverance, patience, determination, innovations, growth, curiosity, and courage will come into play in a big way as you keep on, failing forwards and growing.
• Identification of guideposts: Who are your mentors, teachers, peers, colleagues, and partners who not only correct your map, but point you in the right direction, even new directions.
• Doing the work: Hard work, sacrifice, diligence, and follow through to completion are all necessary to walk the Path. Not “someday,” not when you feel “ready,” not when things are “perfect,” not when you have more money, time, or confidence, or skill — now. The truth is there is no perfect time to start, so just start now! Confusion you can fix with information, fear you can fix with courage, roadblocks you can shove aside with help, but procrastination is 100% on you and will 100% burn your map to ashes. You’ve got to do the work.
• Willingness: How willing are you to learn, to make the sacrifices, to put in the hard work, to question and challenge (especially yourself), and above all, to fail and still keep going? Your powerful will is the fuel you’ll need to get where you want to go.
• Curiosity: How much are you jazzed by learning new things? How pro-active are you in self-education and expanding your knowledge base and skillset? How prone are you to challenge your own conventions, biases, blindspots, and sensibilities? Are you eager to follow your curiosity or do you tend to choose safe comfort zones and convention, particularly your own?
• Humility: Are you able to be a newb again…and again and again and again as needed? Are you okay with failing spectacularly in full public view? Can you process embarrassment, shame, mistakes, bad art days, and other artistic oopsies effectively, especially in public view? And even more, can you always give credit where credit is due? Are you apt to openly recognize the contributions of others to your map? Remember the adage, “Be nice to everyone on the way up, because you’ll meet them again on the way down.”

That’s what will serve you best on your Way, that’s what will get you to your destination on the most flexible, responsive, and effective Path. Because once you’ve given yourself permission to learn, to make mistakes, to be a newb, to question, to feel awkward and uncomfortable, and to always try again, you’ve laid down a solid foundation for growth, exploration, and building an exciting studio. Because all those other things like contracts, licensing, CVs, portfolios, agents, gallery relationships and all the rest will pop up on their own along the way, but if you don’t have those foundation gumptions from the beginning, it’s just a self-sabotaging endeavor. In a nutshell then, the question really isn’t “Am I ready?,” it’s “Am I willing?” So, are you? 

The Imperfect Art

All said and done, we should realize that realism is an intrinsically imperfect art form. No matter how hard we try, no matter how skilled we are, no matter how big our knowledge base, no matter how long we’ve been doing this, no matter how keen our Sight, no matter how many classes we take, we’ll always — always — fall short of our mark. Why? Well, it’s pretty simple: Only Nature can create a perfect horse, only DNA can achieve perfection. Yet even then, no horse is perfect! Like thumb through an auction magazine to see the plethora of individuality in the equine form, just like us — so who’s to say which one is perfect? And hooooo boy, ask a group of people what makes a perfect horse and watch the flamewar start! Yet to add more fuel to the fire, even Nature is flawed through all its variations, genetic errors, mutations, and all the rest — and much of it still works all the same, just like our art! So one can say that our actual attainable goal is to achieve as much realism as we can muster to trick the eye just enough into believing it’s more than just an HSO (horse-shaped object), in the full knowing that means different things to different people. Like someone may look at a painted sculpture and be fooled in an instant while another may look at it and immediately see all the illusion-popping errors. The more esoteric those errors get though, the less likely they’re going to be identified. But there’s always a tell, that’s the point. So the goal isn’t to achieve perfection, but enough accuracy to do the job, and that’s significantly more attainable…thank goodness!

Then we have the difficulty with our methods and media — our workmanship. Heck, simply achieving a smooth basecoat or white pattern is enough to drive us up a tree! But here’s the thing: Our workmanship has to be even more on point only because more people are simply going to recognize a brushstrok-y white blanket or a missed bit of flashing than they are a missing tuberosity on the knee or a laterally bent lumbar section. It’s just a lot more obvious to more people. And here perhaps perfection is most insidious only because a perfect prep job is possible — you simply have to remove all the flashing and casting relics, right? That’s doable, given enough patience, gumption, and technique. Likewise, a smooth basecoat is attainable with an airbrush while smooth white patterns are doable with the right brushwork and paint consistency, making them also fully within our capabilities. No wonder why so many truly struggle with prepwork and painting! It’s a very different bar to clear when perfection is no longer intrinsically unattainable! Argh! So here perhaps we really need to apply our wabi-sabi sensibilities to keep ourselves not only sane, but happy in our arting because there comes a point of diminishing returns. You see, when our brain starts associating arting with frustration, disillusion, and other bad vibes, we won’t be arting for much longer. Double argh! Yet here’s the real crux of the matter — we need to stop bullying ourselves and each other with perfection. Give people room to enjoy making their art! If that means they missed a brushstroke but still had a blast painting that pattern, then let it be. If they missed a bit of sanding scratches, but they love their piece, then let it be. If they got a bit of dog hair in their hoof paint, but the hoof still looks good, then let it be. Sure this equation is very different with working artists who do have to deliver as close to perfect as possible, but the casual artist? Ease up on them! Let them have their joy in their more casual way.

Nevertheless, it’s important to finish what we start for follow through. Now it’s okay to have several in-progress projects going, but we really do need to finish them at some point, especially if we’re a working artist. Like it feels good to put that period on the end of that very long sentence for our own sake, for our art’s sake, and to move onto other things with a clean slate. And each piece can only teach us so much and it’s time to finish it up and move onto a new lesson. Yet even so, it’s okay to putter around in our art from time to time, a lot of great art has been created by puttering around. But it does become a problem if that's a pattern of behavior if this is our livelihood. Absolutely, a working artist finishes most of what they start not because it’s easy, but because it’s hard — because they have to. They have to start, they have to save it from the mistakes, and they require that follow through no matter what. But this is the surprising thing: This pressure is actually pretty handy because it forces us to, as Tim Gunn would say, “Make it work.” And sometimes in art, forcing things to save a piece, to finish it — heck, to even start a new piece — can actually lead to discovery, innovation, and the excavation of personal or artistic issues that ultimately improve matters in our long game. 

But boil it all down and this is the imperfect irony about our niche art form: Realism isn’t as objective as we may think it is. It’s certainly more objective than, say, conformation, breed type, and artistic appeal, but in and of itself, technical accuracy has its own degree of subjectivity, especially when it comes to the gestalt response. Sure, someone quite knowledgeable may see the technical errors, but if that piece consistency wins big, sells big, becomes famous…as many technically flawed pieces have…what actually matters most? Oh, the conundrum! So again, just do the best you can on your learning curve, and let the chips fall where they may — and you just keep on, artin’ on. That’s all any of us can do.

Recommended reading:

Finally Finito: When To Call Done

The Unreality of Realism: Walking the Tightrope Between Fact and Fiction Part I - Part V (click "newer post" to go to the next Part)

Keepin’ It Real: Ways To Support Artists Beyond The Dollar

Taking Off The Blindfold

The Enigma Drive

Demonslaying Part I - Part VI (click "newer post" to go to the next Part)

The Breadcrumbs Home

Gathered Wisdom

DABPPRR: Equine Realism Easily Organized

The Master’s Edge: The Importance Of Quality Workmanship

Twenty-Five Tips For Preserving Your Joy In the Studio

Conclusion

Perhaps now it’s clear that creating perfect art in this crazy ol’ imperfect world is a bit of a self-imposed delusion, isn’t it? It's kinda self-sabotaging in a way. In a sense, it's a bit more about turning into Don Quixote with his windmills than gaining superpowers of impeccable talent, skill, and vision. In fact, if we dig deeper, we find that perfectionism isn’t just a desire to do well — we all wish to do that, even those who have put perfection in its place. Nope. Rather, it’s in equal measure a fear of failing. A fear of shame, humiliation, a fear of not being enough. In this strange way then, perfectionism is a kind of love-hate dichotomy: Love for our art, arting, and our subject, but hate of shame, embarrassment, frustration, and failure. How curious! How imperfect a relationship!

But with some reality injected into this delusion, some reason infused into this preposterous proposition, and some self-love smashed into the self-loathing perfectionism can provoke, we can’t only learn to accept our imperfect art, we can actually come to embrace it for the marvel it is. What’s more, we can reconcile and make peace with this imperfect world that just never seems to stop testing our patience, resilience, and sense of humor.

Because it’s important to make peace with imperfection, to realize that we can go about our arting business joyfully, skillfully, and purposely even when that impossible carrot of perfection dangles in front of us, always pulling us forward in its maddening way. That we can find satisfaction even when we’re destined to always pull up short. Yes, it’s true. Because, yes, you can find that renewed kind of relationship with your art, too. Because there are three truths we mustn’t ignore. First, art should first be fun! It’s gotta be a true pleasure, if you’re doing it right. Second, art should be a sanctuary for you, a rebalancing that brings you inner peace and solace. And third, arting is good for you! It’s good for your mind, your heart, your soul, your health, your guts, and your sensibilities. If we don’t make peace with imperfection though, chances are we may never even start arting in the first place, denying ourselves of those beneficial truths…and for little good reason. 

So assuage those fears imperfection fires up with a goodly dose of love, curiosity, courage, and gumption to just start creating some art! It can be something incredibly small or simple, too, nothing fancy or involved. Cut out a paper horse and glue on some yarn and glitter! Done! Sew up a stuffed horse with button eyes! Done! Prep a $10 Breyer and paint it chestnut! Done! Start with baby steps! But just start. This imperfect world desperately needs your imperfect art, and together we can actually find a new kind of perfection in the way only love, beauty, and inspiration can conjure up together! So make a friend of imperfection and you’ll find not only a gentle, nonjudgmental companion, but one who accepts you for exactly who you are and your art for exactly what it is, gladly and openly.

"You use a glass mirror to see your face. You use works of art to see your soul.”

- George Bernard Shaw

The Dented Can: Creating Imperfectly In An Imperfect World Part III