🎨💭 The Process That Resists Control

My current series, "What Remains," consists of six large-format mixed media paintings. I'm on piece #4.

Here's the actual process: gesso base (2 coats, drying between), ink wash, pressed botanicals laid down, more ink, remove botanicals (leaving ghost impressions), pen work, real botanicals embedded and lasting, UV protection, varnish.

Between each step, materials behave unpredictably. The ink pools where I didn't expect it. The ghost impressions are more delicate or pronounced than I planned. The real botanicals I've gathered aren't quite the right color for the composition that emerged.

A piece I thought would take one week takes two. A color combination I was certain about looks wrong on canvas. A detail I planned doesn't serve the piece—I need to pivot, add more, try something different.

My A-type brain wants to push through and stick to the plan. My studio resists this every single time.

🌿 When Nature Won't Be Scheduled

The botanical gathering teaches the same lesson.

I collect from our property—native species, invasive plants, wildflowers, grasses. But I can only collect what's available when it's available. Spring comes when spring comes. I've had to build a system of collection and preservation because nature refuses to work on my schedule.

So I gather. I press. I dry. I store. I work with what emerges, when it emerges.

In my previous career, this would have been seen as inefficient. Why collect before you need it?

In the studio, this is the only way forward. I've stopped trying to force the timeline and started working with the timeline—building buffer, gathering when materials are available, using them when a piece needs them.

This alone has changed how I work. I'm less stressed about deadlines because I've realized most of my deadlines are self-imposed. I create pressure that doesn't actually exist. Releasing that pressure hasn't made me less productive—it's made the work better.

✨ What Actually Matters

When you try to force a creative outcome, you can feel it. The piece becomes stiff. The colors feel forced. Details don't flow naturally.

The paintings that flow—where I stopped trying to control the outcome and started responding to what was actually happening on the canvas—those are the ones that consistently exceed my expectations. They're better than what I planned. More interesting. More alive.

And they take longer. Because rushing kills the flow.

Patience isn't about moving slowly. It's about moving at the right speed for the work. For my botanical series, that speed feels glacial compared to my audit days. But it's the speed at which ink can dry properly, botanicals can be positioned exactly where they need to be, and details can emerge naturally rather than be forced.

It's also the speed at which I can stay present. Responsive to what's actually happening rather than what I planned to happen.

💚 The Invitation

My previous career taught me to value speed and results. My studio is teaching me to value presence and responsiveness.

I'm still an A-type. I still want to push through. I still create self-imposed deadlines I have to give myself permission to ignore.

But the work — the actual paintings emerging on the canvas — has taught me it's worth the effort to change.

🎨💭 The Process That Resists Control

My current series, "What Remains," consists of six large-format mixed media paintings. I'm on piece #4.

Here's the actual process: gesso base (2 coats, drying between), ink wash, pressed botanicals laid down, more ink, remove botanicals (leaving ghost impressions), pen work, real botanicals embedded and lasting, UV protection, varnish.

Between each step, materials behave unpredictably. The ink pools where I didn't expect it. The ghost impressions are more delicate or pronounced than I planned. The real botanicals I've gathered aren't quite the right color for the composition that emerged.

A piece I thought would take one week takes two. A color combination I was certain about looks wrong on canvas. A detail I planned doesn't serve the piece—I need to pivot, add more, try something different.

My A-type brain wants to push through and stick to the plan. My studio resists this every single time.

🌿 When Nature Won't Be Scheduled

The botanical gathering teaches the same lesson.

I collect from our property—native species, invasive plants, wildflowers, grasses. But I can only collect what's available when it's available. Spring comes when spring comes. I've had to build a system of collection and preservation because nature refuses to work on my schedule.

So I gather. I press. I dry. I store. I work with what emerges, when it emerges.

In my previous career, this would have been seen as inefficient. Why collect before you need it?

In the studio, this is the only way forward. I've stopped trying to force the timeline and started working with the timeline—building buffer, gathering when materials are available, using them when a piece needs them.

This alone has changed how I work. I'm less stressed about deadlines because I've realized most of my deadlines are self-imposed. I create pressure that doesn't actually exist. Releasing that pressure hasn't made me less productive—it's made the work better.

✨ What Actually Matters

When you try to force a creative outcome, you can feel it. The piece becomes stiff. The colors feel forced. Details don't flow naturally.

The paintings that flow—where I stopped trying to control the outcome and started responding to what was actually happening on the canvas—those are the ones that consistently exceed my expectations. They're better than what I planned. More interesting. More alive.

And they take longer. Because rushing kills the flow.

Patience isn't about moving slowly. It's about moving at the right speed for the work. For my botanical series, that speed feels glacial compared to my audit days. But it's the speed at which ink can dry properly, botanicals can be positioned exactly where they need to be, and details can emerge naturally rather than be forced.

It's also the speed at which I can stay present. Responsive to what's actually happening rather than what I planned to happen.

💚 The Invitation

My previous career taught me to value speed and results. My studio is teaching me to value presence and responsiveness.

I'm still an A-type. I still want to push through. I still create self-imposed deadlines I have to give myself permission to ignore.

But the work — the actual paintings emerging on the canvas — has taught me it's worth the effort to change.

🌿 Where do you struggle with control in your creative life? Have you ever had a project teach you something unexpected about yourself?

      Hit reply or share in the comments. 🌿

Ready to see what emerges when patience meets creativity? Browse my collection of mixed media botanical art at LeftBrainCreative.Art.

Each piece holds the story of a process that resisted control and became better because of it.

Follow along on Instagram and Facebook to see the process unfold 🎨✨