Every day for months, I looked at an unfinished version of her. Blotches of exposed canvas, asymmetrical eyes. and colors that fought with one another rather than danced greeted me each rising. I did not rush myself. I breathed in the potential she could become and found solace with the process. Soon, when I was ready I would begin. The night before last, I picked up a paintbrush. Before touching her, I affirmed “there are no such things as mistakes. Mistakes do not exist here. Every stroke is meant to happen.” Over and over again I surrendered myself to the process. I painted over textures I once found beautiful, but I knew had to be reworked– transformed. In 7 hours, I finished. I name this piece, “cease resistance.” I didn’t only paint this, I let it happen.
I choose to center the process rather than the content here, but I would love to know. What does this piece mean for you? Comment below.
TIFFANY MARTÍNEZ 
Good to see your post, Tiffany. I’ve found the same process in my art as well—the resting, waiting, then leaning in and reciting all along the way that there are no mistakes.
Beautiful lesson to learn, though excruciating challenging at times to trust oneself so deeply and fully.
Thanks for sharing and reminding of the lesson that I seem to need again and again.
Warmly,
Jenna
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