When people come to my classes they often show up because they are enticed by a promise. I find them on my doorstep because they've been to my website, or they've seen a flyer or read my blog. They come to me believing that what they want are all the things that I say I'm offering which is an opportunity to become more creative. To regain the  freedom and joy that they once had as a child to express themselves in any way that they want.

They come filled with hope that through this process I can help them unlock the door to their unique creative juciness. To experience the happiness that comes from not worrying about what other people think and the permission to just be themselves.

And this longing to be creative without constraints is very, very real.

But what they also secretly or not so secretly want is to make a beautiful painting.

Stoners are creative people, too.

I live in the San Francisco Bay Area which is a place that is a mecca for the arts of all kinds. And one of my favorite places to go when I'm needing some major hit of art inspiration is the De Young Museum in Golden Gate Park.

One of the things I love about the DeYoung is their focus on diversity. Which basically means that they are partial to featuring creative installations from people and cultures all over the world and not just art made by dead white men who used to reside in Western Europe.

Many of you reading this are probably too young to remember the stoner comedy duo who called themselves Cheech and Chong. *Warning: Potty mouth alert*. Their comedy routine was basically one, long, stupid and mindless riff on being majorly fucked up, primarily on marijuana. I was never a huge fan, but they were cultural icons when I was growing up in the 60's, so I knew who they were.

Apparently Cheech took some part of the millions that he made acting like someone who could not get his shit together to save his life and became a patron and collector of Mexican art over the years. And the DeYoung was showing that collection.

In my classes one of the things that I hear a lot is people deciding that certain colors are ugly. Sometimes they will actively avoid these colors or sometimes they will consciously decide to use them because they are challenging themselves to branch out. And the colors that most often get put in that category are the shockingly fluorescent blues, greens, reds and yellows with some hot pink thrown in for good measure.

When I was walking around the Cheech exhibit at the DeYoung the thing that really stood out was the abundant use of those wild and what are often judged as garish fluorescent colors. And these paintings were beautiful. Alive. Intense. Practically jumping off the walls in their vibrancy of color.

And it struck me in that moment how much our conception of what is beautiful is actually based on a social construct.  In this western culture our idea of beauty is largely conditioned by those dead European masters. And those boys were certainly no fan of hot pink.

Who DO you think you are?

One of the things I love about the intuitive painting process is how it challenges you to stretch beyond your usual conception or (should I say misconception) of yourself.

People come to a painting class with some pretty clearly defined ideas about who they are, what they like and what they think they want out of the process. But if they are really listening to their intuition all of those things get blown out of the water on a regular basis.

The intuitive process helps people to see more clearly how they are constrained in ways that they never even realized by societal expectations, family expectations, church and school rules and regulations.

It asks you to consider certain questions like why do you think that something as innocuous as a color or a particular image is ugly or unacceptable? Where did that idea even come from? And is it even remotely true?

Claiming the freedom to be ourselves is a sometimes difficult process where we have to come up against those firmly ingrained and often entrenched beliefs.

We want to be accepted. We want to fit in. We want to be valued. We want to belong.

And ultimately, we want to feel safe.

We sincerely believe that if we toe the line and agree with what we have been told, if we go along with the party line that tells us that taupe is classy and chartreuse is trashy, then we can relax. We can trust that we won't be hurt or judged or found to be lacking in some way.

Given the choice I'll vote for lime green ANY day.

But all along our intuition is calling to us, beckoning to us, saying "Come on in. The water is fine. There is a WHOLE WORLD out here beyond what you have been led to believe is OK.

There is a world of blinding colors and never-been-seen-before creatures of your imagination, a world where things are often turned upside down and don't always make sense. And this world can nourish you and startle you and amaze you. And make you come more fully and completely alive."

Sometimes venturing away from what you know has already gotten a stamp of approval can make you a tad uncomfortable... but that's only because you've never been there before. And you might find yourself more than a little worried that if you start going hog wild with neon blue or sizzling magenta it will seriously call into question things like your good taste or color sense.

I often tell my students with all sincerity that I have never in my life seen an ugly painting. Especially in my studio. I have seen paintings that have evoked all kinds of reactions in me. And not all of those responses are comfy. But I am grateful to anyone who is able to make me feel something because they have been courageous enough to have their own feelings and to express themselves from a deep and authentic place.

One of the things that has been enormously helpful for me is to expand my definition of beauty. To recognize that beauty also includes things that are intense, passionate and demanding. Sometimes beauty makes my skin crawl. Or makes my heart break. It can even leave me feeling incredibly disturbed.

And sometimes beauty can literally make my eyes bug out of my head as I am almost blinded by the electric, spine tingling, overwhelmingness of a shimmering and unearthly green that could only have been produced in a mad scientists laboratory.

That living experience of beauty is something I can never get enough of.

And believe you me... I am happy to say that I have NEVER had that kind of reaction to taupe!

When I was a kid I absolutely adored Christmas.

I loved the twinkly lights and the schmaltzy music but most of all I loved that sense of anticipation and wonder and surprise. My family and I lived in a rowhouse that had three stories and two flights of stairs. On Christmas morning I would wake up at some ungodly early hour and  sneak down those stairs with my siblings trailing behind me (I was the big sister) until we reached the living room where the tree was set up and the wrapped Christmas packages were piled high. It was always a breathtaking moment to walk into this normally ordinary room and find it transformed into something so magical and full of treasures.

The studio where I hold my weekly classes in Oakland, CA is in a huge, old Victorian house that is very cool and charming. Over the time I've been there I've transformed most of the house into art space in one way or another. But years ago I lived there with my husband. The house has two stories so the upstairs was our living space and the downstairs was the painting studio.

It's like Christmas every day in my studio!

Each morning I would come down those stairs and be greeted by whatever paintings had been created in the class from the day before. And in the early morning light I would have that same feeling of anticipation and surprise that I had as a child , even though I had already seen them. When I'm teaching my focus is on my students, but it was like being alone with these amazing bits of creative expression, in this ever changing sacred art gallery, allowed me to experience them more simply and directly.

My students have a wide range of experience when it comes to art. Some people have been to art school and are even commercially successful with their paintings. Other folks have not picked up a brush since kindergarten. So the span of technical proficiency is pretty wide.

But walking around the studio and taking in the energy and soul with which each piece was created I found that it didn't really matter. I was moved by each and every one of those paintings. And my feelings of being touched or amused or awed had nothing to do with how skillfully the painting was rendered.

In that moment I had one of those lightbulb-in-the-brain realizations. I kind of already knew it but it suddenly became incredibly crystally clear. I don't really believe in the concept of Bad Art.

There's a very good reason why I don't go to art galleries.

In the conventional art world of galleries and competitions and selling you better believe there is a VERY strong sense about what is good and what is not. That whole process of assessment and critique, comparison and competition is rife in that community. People are always striving to be on top and to be the best which translates into more fame, more recognition, more respect and ultimately more money. There is a built in sense of elitism among trained artists.  A sense of us and them and a strong dividing line between those who can legitimately call themselves artists and the rest of the world.

And I can guarantee you that if anyone from that world happened to show up in my little studio they would be of the definite opinion that Creative Juices Arts was FILLED TO THE RAFTERS with Bad, BAD Art.

I'm pretty sure that without SOME standards the world would spin off it's axis... or something equally catastrophic.

But even in the world that I hang out in which is a much more "touchy feely hippy dippy expressive artsy anything goes" kind of crowd there is still that concept of Bad Art. Granted, it has a totally different connotation from the artiste mindset. When these folks talk about making Bad Art it is in the service of creative liberation. The suggestion is to allow yourself to make Bad Art as a way to circumnavigate the voice of the inner critic. If you are feeling trapped and stuck and paralyzed and unable to create giving yourself permission to make Bad Art can really get you moving again.

I really, really like the idea that a way to break the hold of  your perfectionism is to make what you THINK is Bad Art. I think that's a tremendously helpful concept. And has allowed scads of people to take steps towards all kinds of crazy and wonderful artistic freedom. I have even used it myself at times to help one of my students out of a tight creative spot.

But in my heart of hearts I never really believed it. Maybe I'm crazy. Maybe I have no standards to speak of. Maybe my eyes really ARE going. But I just don't think there really IS such a thing as Bad Art.

There's art that you might not like.

There's art that is not technically sophisticated.

There's art that might be judged harshly by some outside authority or arbitrary standard.

There's art that does not please the artist.

There's art that appears to be completely meaningless or confusing.

There's art that doesn't match the vision you had in your head.

There's art that might bring up shame about your artistic skills.

There's art that might get you in touch with some uncomfortable feelings.

There's art that is not realistic.

There's art that is messy.

There's art that is childlike.

But none of it is really BAD art. There's nothing wrong with the art itself. The art is just art.
What makes it seem bad is our expectations about what we think it SHOULD be.

There's something here for everyone to love.

One year at a crafts fair I bought a pretty silk scarf from an artist who used Batik to make her own designs. As she was packaging up my purchase she said to me "You know... I almost chucked that scarf as a huge mistake. I really didn't like it and thought it wasn't a very good design. But my husband talked me out of it saying you just never know what someone else might think."

I'm grateful that she listened to her husbands wisdom. That little scarf really touched my heart and it STILL makes me happy every time I wear it.

And that's how I feel about my own art. It touches my heart. This feels really politically incorrect in terms of the art world, but the truth is ....I love everything that I've ever created not because it meets some standard of good or bad but just because I've done it. Each thing that I've created is like one of my children and a good mother never plays favorites!

I also love everything my students have ever done for the same reason. In fact whenever I see ANYBODY else's creations my heart does a little happy dance, because it's another example of the creative impulse made manifest.

Maybe it's just proof of how goofy I really am, maybe it's that same part of me that loves the schmaltzy Christmas music, but I just can't help but feel absurdly joyful whenever I am witness to someones heartfelt creative expression.

It's the part of me that is just so grateful that we even HAVE the ability to be creative and that creativity exists in the world. And personally, that's more than enough for me.

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If you're looking for a place and some dedicated time to practice some of your Bad Art skills I've still got 2 openings in my upcoming Painting From The Wild Heart retreat January 16-22 in Northern California. For more details click here.