A strategist’s lessons in oil painting

In advertising, we often hear how important it is for creatives to find an outlet to express themselves outside of work, and recently, I’ve realized that it’s equally important for me as a strategist and others who aren’t necessarily doing the creating to do the same.?

After having my first child in December of last year, I quickly realized in my zombie-like state that the wash, rinse, repeat of “eat, sleep, play, diaper change” was wearing me down. I was on maternity leave and didn’t have the mental or creative stimulation I was used to, and on top of that, I didn’t feel like myself. All the things that had once defined me didn’t have the same place in my life anymore because now I had this tiny human that I love so dearly, and in many ways, that was all-consuming.?

I knew that to preserve some sense of normalcy and the pieces of myself that had undoubtedly shifted but were still there under the day-old makeup and baby spit up, I had to find a way to scratch that creative itch. I desperately needed something all my own. For so long, even before having a kid, I had been grinding, trying to progress in the advertising industry after switching careers, and I realized during quiet, fleeting moments of maternity leave when there was time for introspection, that in doing so, I’d let my creative hobbies fall by the wayside.?

And so I decided that I needed to reclaim this piece of myself, to preserve a piece of my former self to be the best “me” outside of the other titles I hold — strategist, mom, partner, friend, dog walker extraordinaire.?

Taking a giant leap outside my comfort zone, I signed up for an oil painting class with a friend. When I say “giant leap,” this is no exaggeration — I’ve taken one formal art class my entire life and that was way back in 8th grade. Unless we’re counting wine and paint nights — and what self-respecting gal didn’t take a crack at wine and paint night at the height of that trend 10 years ago? I’ve dabbled in crafting my whole life? — scrapbooking, knitting, a bout of COVID-era cross-stitching — but nothing in the fine arts realm. So, the week before the first of six classes, I wandered into Michaels with a long list of supplies I’d never heard of before, determined to try something new.?

I walked into the first day of class, obscure art supplies in hand to find four stations carefully positioned around the room facing different still lifes. Initially, I posted up in front of the carton of eggs. That was before the teacher, who could apparently see right through me and knew I was a total newbie, came by and warned that the eggs were the most difficult to paint. I still think she led me astray because somehow I ended up in front of glass bottles. Why paint apples when you can go straight to painting glass, right??

Each week, we started our lesson the same, watching the teacher work miracles — first showing us how to attempt a charcoal drawing, then how to trace that drawing and still capture the “value,” and finally how to transfer it to our canvas and start painting. Despite high hopes that each week would become easier, it definitely didn’t. And, despite trying to capture the “values” and “paint what I saw,” it all felt so unnatural to me.?

But, week after week, I found myself leaving the studio, looking at a photo of the work I’d done that day and thinking of how I could improve it next week. And week after week, I mustered up the courage to cover the whole canvas, despite every ounce of my being squirming at the thought of potentially destroying something I finally felt looked decent. But I did it.?

I showed up each week to push myself out of my comfort zone. I tried to hush the voice in my head that compared my painting to those around the room and tried even harder to let go of perfection. Let’s face it — I wasn’t taking beginner oil painting to become the next da Vinci.?

Each class was only two and a half hours, but in that short period, I felt a sense of peace I hadn’t felt in months. I practiced patience with myself as I mixed and re-mixed colors, trying to land on just the right shades to capture the light hitting the glass bottles. Sometimes I would leave with a painting worse off than the previous week, but there was some beauty in knowing that, next week, I’d get to try again.?

Beyond scratching that creative itch, I learned a lot from oil painting. Much like work or parenting, oil painting is all about showing up, picking up the brush, and trying your best to cover the whole canvas again, each time hopefully leaving it better than the last. It’s about learning from your mistakes and always being a sponge because just like each of us, every painting is a work in progress until you decide it’s complete.?

That too can be said about our careers. Each day is an opportunity to show up, learn, and let go of the things that hold us back. It’s never too late to learn something new; to push ourselves outside of what we perceive to be our limits.