Ritual or faffing-about?

A 9-minute read

When I painted at home I had a pre-painting ritual that went something like this.  

I’d think ‘Time to paint!’ and head to the studio space in the corner of the living room. I’d stand there for a moment or two and stare at my current piece of work. But I’d feel a bit unsettled—as if I wasn’t in the right headspace—so I’d think … ‘Okay ... just get a cup of tea first.’ 

I’d head back to the kitchen. Fill the kettle. Flick the switch. Then think—‘Actually I’ll ...’ And before the kettle even begins to boil I’m busy emptying the dishwasher. 

‘Right. Tea’. 

Of course, by now the kettle’s cooled down. So. I flick the switch again. But in the 5 seconds it takes to reach boiling point my mind has drifted to the cupboard in the hall and I’m in there now stuffing dirty clothes into the washing machine. 

Back to the kitchen. 

‘I want to paint … but I’ll just …’  Drag the broom around the kitchen floor. 

‘Okay. Let’s get some painting done.’ Flick switch on kettle yet AGAIN. Make cup of tea. Head resolutely to studio space in the living room—tea in hand. 

Stare at painting. But … there’s still a mild feeling of unease. 

‘Ok need some ...’ Reach for phone. Scroll through podcasts.  

‘Nope … nope … nope. Something … more backgroundy’ Scroll through Spotify. 

‘Perfect!’

‘Um … earphones ... ‘ Look around. Frown. Head to bedroom. Search bag. Head to hall. Search jacket pockets. Head to kitchen. Search that corner of the counter where stuff goes to die. 

‘Never mind … find them later.’ 

Head back to the living room and see my lovely husband who appears not to know the meaning of the word ‘procrastinate’ diligently banging away at his keyboard on the other side of the room. 

“I just made tea ... would you like a cup?” Head back to kitchen. Put kettle on. Flick through Instagram as kettle boils. Make tea. Head resolutely to studio space—tea in hand.  

‘Ok. This is it! Painting time!’ Set up palette. Adjust lighting. Pick up apron. Put hand in apron pocket. 

“Huh!” Pull out earphones.

Reach for phone. Randomly scroll through Facebook. ‘Aw … funny wee dancing dog!’ Check mail. Send self reminder to buy car tax.

Check Instagram. ‘PrinceHarry2642 and a bruiser of an ER doctor with a penchant for kittens like my art - Cool!’ Hit ‘block’ (Twice!) Put on apron. 

And then it happens. 

There’s something about the feeling of the fabric snug around my middle and the tying of the straps across the front that has an ‘I mean business’ feel about it. I put on my apron and suddenly there are no more thoughts of dishes or floors or random Instagram bots. 

I’m there. 100% ready—present in front of my painting. And despite the ridiculous number of things I did before I finally got going—I am super-super-laser-focused and can stay in that frame of mind for HOURS! 

So what on earth’s going on? 

Some might call it procrastination. Some (me) would call it faffing-about. But is it? I absolutely love painting. I don't believe I’m trying to avoid it so maybe there’s actually a purpose to this. 

I was listening to the excellent Savvy Painter Podcast recently and one of the artists interviewed (I have listened to so many episodes that unfortunately I can’t remember which one) reckoned the faffing-about period was a necessary part of the process of making art. Hearing that made me feel a whole lot better and I began to give it some thought. 

Here’s what I think is going on. 

We all have different parts to our personalities. If you’re not aware how multi-facted you are —that’s fine. I know I wasn’t until someone explained it to me. But just think for a moment—have you ever heard yourself say something like this? 

“Part of me thinks it’s a great idea. And yet another part thinks it would be nuts to (fill in some crazy idea you might have had)” 

If it feels as if there’s an argument going on inside you that’s because that’s exactly what’s happening. The sensible ‘Think Things Through/Don’t Make Rash Decisions’ part is trying to talk some sense into the ’Would Happily (fill in some crazy idea) Without Giving It A Second Thought’ part.

And when you say “I just can’t decide. Part of me thinks this and part of me thinks that.” That’s actually ANOTHER part of you that’s frustrated because ‘Little Miss Boring Pants’ and ‘Little Mr (or they could be gender neutral) Life’s Too Short Not To Go White-Water-Rafting/Buy Those Gawdamn Amazing Shoes’ can’t reach an agreement. 

Now I’m not talking about split-personalities—that’s a serious condition where different parts of someone’s personality are not aware of each other’s actions. What I’m talking about is the perfectly usual make-up of our psyche. Parts are formed in response to life situations and it can be very useful to have different parts to rely on at different times.

I have a ‘Can Swear Like A Trouper’ part and a ‘Loves Dancing In Fields At Festivals’ part. But I also have a ‘Very Approachable Yet Extremely Professional’ side too. (Parts are often referred to as ‘sides’ which may sound more familiar to you.) Fortunately, that was the side that was present when I worked as a Hypnotherapist ... If ‘Sweary Trouper’ or ‘Dancing Girl’ had been present when I sat down with a client—I’m not sure what would have happened. Although I have a fairly good idea!

You probably have a professional part too. And unless your profession is ‘clubbing’ or ‘restaurant critic’ the professional part of your personality will not be the same part that enjoys a night on the dance floor or an intimate chat with a friend over dinner. Which is great—that’s exactly as it should be—different parts for different occasions. Perfect! 

The problems start when we can’t get the right part to be present at the right time.

When I make my art, the part of me I want to be fully present is a part that couldn’t give a monkeys about the kitchen floor. I don’t want my housewifey side to pick up the paintbrush. I want my creative, artistic, playful, problem-solving side (or sides) to be there in my studio space—in front of the painting—paintbrush in hand.

I want the part of me that can (and often does) concentrate for hours on end to be at the forefront of my mind when I make my art. 

So how do I get her (or them—I’m sure there’s more than one) to be there?

Well, it’s actually a lot simpler than you might think. Different parts of our personalities will come to the forefront of our minds in response to certain triggers—you just need to know what the triggers are.

Clothing can often be a trigger. For example, you are more likely to feel professional when you wear the clothes you usually wear to work. Or conversely—how professional would you feel if you had to do your job in your pajamas? Actually with so many people working from home during lockdown that might not be the best example but I’m sure you get what I mean. 

Music can be a big trigger. So can smell, places, specific thoughts, and even other people.

Most triggers develop naturally.

For example, walking into a dark room will trigger your hand to reach up for the light switch. If you drive, a red light will have your foot hit the brake. Seeing someone you love can bring a smile to your face and a nice happy feeling in your tummy.

The mere mention of public speaking can cause some people to break out in a cold sweat. And there’s something about walking into my Mum’s house that can trigger my stroppy teenage self to appear—unless I specifically ask her not to!

Once you’re aware of the power of a situation to trigger a feeling or action you can begin to create those connections deliberately. I use a series of triggers that let my creative self know that it’s time to come out to play.

The trigger can be an environment—I have to be in a certain place. It can be auditory—each time I hear a certain piece of music. Or visceral—the feeling of a cup of tea in my hand and the sensation of pulling the ties of my apron tight are powerful triggers for me. Also if I paint with my shoes on it just feels odd—so they have to come off!

I believe the period of faffing-about helps me get into the right headspace. It includes a series of mindless tasks and powerful triggers that let my creative selves know that it’s not just time to come forward but also give them the time and space to do so.

In fact, I think it’s so much part of my creative process that when I moved my art practice out of the house and into a proper studio a few weeks ago I decided that as there was no washing-up to do, no dirty laundry, and (because it’s on the compact side) only a tiny floor to drag a broom around I would need to create a ritual to allow me time to get into the right mindset to paint.

Or in other words, I would design an official period of faffing-about to give the creative parts of me time to come forward to the front of my mind and fully into the room. 

So this is what I do. 

As I walk to work I ask the part of me that loves to make art to be present whenever I’m in my studio. Obviously, I do this quietly inside my own head because the part of me that’s massively afraid of public speaking really doesn’t want me to be seen talking to myself as I walk through the busy west end of Glasgow.

I get to my studio and thank the housewifey part of me that made the effort to leave it tidy the day before. 

Fill kettle. 

Change into yoga pants. (This is tricky as there are many windows. So far this has involved lying on the floor or standing in the alcove. I might alter the ritual and get changed in the loo like a normal person but for now, it’s fine.)

Set up yoga mat to face my painting wall. 

Do 20 minutes of ‘Yoga with Kassandra’. I always do the same 20-minute Youtube video. If I don’t need to think too much about which bits of me go where I can ponder my work in progress at the same time. #multitaskingrocks

Struggle out of yoga pants and back into jeans.

Put on two pairs of socks. (I don’t like painting with shoes on but also don’t like cold feet!)

Make tea. This is a slick no faffing-about exercise and a far cry from the tea-making fiasco I had when I painted at home.

Click on a podcast or choose a favorite track on Spotify.

I no longer have my husband in the corner banging away on his keyboard like the piano player in the dining room of my one and only all-inclusive holiday—so there’s no need for the fruitless headphones search now. Result!

Take a moment to think how bloody lucky I am and do a happy dance. (That could be Sweary Trouper and Dancing Girl trying to get a look in but that’s fine.) 

Set up my palette.

Don my pinny. 

And get to work!! 

The only problem now is that I love being in my studio so much that I find it hard to leave. There’s an end-of-session ritual which means that I leave my studio ready to start again the next day. Everything goes back where it stays. Brushes washed. Palette covered. Pinny off. Boots on.

But often … just as I’m packing my bag (once I even had my jacket on and my hand on the door handle) I catch a glimpse of the painting I’m working on out of the corner of my eye and suddenly I know just what it needs—a wee touch of white to make the colours pop, the sharpening of an edge, a dob of burnt orange—and before I know it the bag’s down, the jacket’s off and I’ve got the paint and brushes out again. Like some sort of reverse procrastination. 

Writing this now I realise that I should make ‘turn painting to the wall’ part of my end of day ritual. Problem solved! But loving what I do so much that I don’t want to stop doesn’t seem like much of a problem to me so perhaps I shall just learn to live with it!  

Caroline x

PS Do you have a pre-work ritual? If so I’d love to hear about it in the comments below.

I’d be thrilled if you shared this blog post on Pinterest. Thank you x