The Pursuit and Purpose of Practice

We’ve all heard it. “Practice makes perfect.” Wait a minute. Not so fast. The rejoinder from the ‘smugsters’ who ‘know it all’ is always, “Perfect practice makes perfect.” But, is practice really about the pursuit of perfection? I submit not. Perfection is an elusive goal, rarely if ever attained. What is perfect? And does it really matter?

Perhaps practice should be engaged in for its own sake. Even with imperfect practice, the kind we are all capable of, we learn something. We learn both in the moment and in reflection later. In practice, we train our minds, our perceptions, and our motor skills. And, even with imperfect practice, we are very likely to improve, even without conscious effort. In fact, it’s difficult not to improve. The inexorable path towards improvement seems to be an incontrovertible part of the inner human imperative, conscious or not.

Having recently resumed sketching and watercolors, I often compare the activity of art to running and other sports. Reluctance and drive struggle before the medium is confronted with purpose. It was the same way with my running. The hardest step was always that first step out the door. And so, it is the same with the pursuit of artistic practice. But once the medium is engaged, the pencil touches paper, and the brush applies pigment, all resistance and hesitation fall away. It is as if we are wading into a moving stream. Your journey enters the present moment.

To move forward, it’s best to engage in a discipline of regular practice, whether we feel inspired or not. When stuck, without apparent inspiration, it’s often useful to follow the examples of others. As young architecture students, we received many consecutive semesters of instruction in the fine arts. We practiced with studio subjects and often copied the sketches and paintings of the masters, who previously copied the masters before them. When not in the studio, we sketched from life, en plein air. Five sketches a day, minimum. It often seemed a tedious requirement, but once engaged we achieved flow.

And now, after so many years as a working professional, an executive, in the years without art, I find it so satisfying to return. With creative tools in hand, the only person I have to manage is myself. I am accountable to no one else. The choice to practice is always before me and I find it best to engage my sense of purpose, visualize what I want to achieve, and simply start. After all, the hardest part is simply getting started.

I recently checked out a copy of ‘Watercolor in Nature’ by Rosalie Haizlett, a young artist from West Virginia. The subtitle intrigued me, ‘Paint Woodland Wildlife and Botanicals With 20 Beginner-friendly Projects.’ I picked 17 of the 20 exercises and began by sketching the subjects in pencil and then painting in this 7x10 wire-bound watercolor pad. I resolutely followed Rosalie’s meticulous approach which relies on a wet-on-dry technique. I found her exercises both challenging and fun. And while I struggled to emulate her examples, I learned a lot and was quite pleased with my results. I wholeheartedly recommend her book. It's certainly one good way to practice. And, as one artist said, "Practice makes progress."