Sir Alec Guinness as Obi-Wan
I improve a portrait painting from last year—and muse on the importance of artists having a “growth mindset.”
Recently I worked pretty hard on an application for an art scholarship, and didn’t get it. While the results aren’t what I wished for (the award would have been animation mentorship with Aaron Blaise), I did receive an honorable mention, as did a good friend of mine who applied for the same award.
Growth mindset
This got me thinking about something called “growth mindset” which is a term from the world of education. A person with growth mindset believes that the power to improve their skill set is in their own hands; effort pays off (eventually) with results.
A person with “fixed” mindset believes the opposite—that we are born with innate skills and our efforts to improve do very little to “move the needle.”
An artist with growth mindset will take a setback as an opportunity to self-reflect, returning to artistic pursuits with new vigor. An artist with fixed mindset will conclude that the setback reflects a permanent lack of skill.
Improving a portrait painting
Last year—in honor of May the 4th—I painted a portrait of Sir Alec Guinness as Ben Kenobi, aka Obi-Wan Kenobi, from Star Wars. (You know the famous line—“May the Force be with you!” Well, May the 4th… May the force…)
I looked at the painting and decided it could be better. That is to say, I believed that the ability to improve the artwork was in my hands, and that my efforts would result in positive growth.
You can see the two versions below, and the time lapse video of the drawing process at the top of this post. (I used the popular drawing software for iPad called Procreate.)
Here’s what I wanted to change: I wanted Obi-Wan’s expression to read more clearly. In the original scene from Star Wars, Obi-Wan is waiting to be struck down by Darth Vader’s lightsaber, knowing that his apprentice Luke will witness the act and become an even more powerful Jedi Knight than either Vader or Kenobi ever was. His face displays a mixture of irony, sadness, pride, resignation.
That’s hard to capture! But do you see it? Can you see the difference between the two versions?
When have you experienced an artistic or a moment of frustration, and how did you react? I’d love to hear stories in the comments.
I appreciate this reflection so much and am fascinated by the apparently small but meaningful changes to the portrait. I wonder how you determine the underlying issue and reach that point of improvement before you hit the “overworked” place.