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 The struggle is real, and my closet proves it. I cleaned out one in my studio this week, the one where I throw the panels and canvases I started and didn’t like or took too far down the rabbit hole to save or wipe away. 

 There are many; too many to count. After all, to count would be depressing. To count would be to add up the hours and hours of frustration.

Maybe there is one I can salvage, I thought, as I stepped back from the mess, considered my options, a little afraid to dive in. Maybe I can make one a lot better and post it on Instagram! HA! I thought again. No chance of Instagram for any of those babies. 

 The closet is imperfection, and in today’s social media environment, there’s no room for the closet. I love looking at artists I admire on Instagram and Facebook. I’m inspired and intimidated all at once. How does she do that? It’s Beautiful. I want to paint as well as that artist! 

 The closet reminds me of today’s social media posts and what we don’t show. FB and Insta are full of beautiful hair and makeup, the perfect festival pic, utter happiness, nothing out of place. Recently a friend said about Facebook, “It’s where you go to see how much better everyone else’s lives are…it’s the ultimate one-upper.” 

 We all know the truth. It’s a lot of editing and a lot of pressure. Is it a false narrative? An airbrushing of our real selves? The hiding of all the messed up panels that don’t make the cut? It’s classic appearance vs. reality, and I am a participant. My closet proves it. 

 Here’s what I learn from my closet. My closet is authenticity. I can’t hide it because when I open the door, it is right there in front of me, stacked to the top. Deep breath, I reach inside, and I pull one panel at a time from the closet. I look at it, remember it, laugh at it, and evaluate it based on what I now know. 

 I remember years ago, Jerry Freeman, artist, photographer, came over to see me. I was painting in my basement at the time, and I was embarrassed. And I remember him saying, “Don’t complain about your work; until you can stack these panels up to the ceiling—you just have to put the time in.” 

 I’ve been doing the same thing for a long time now, and there are no more excuses.  I will paint from life more—plein air painting, live models, painting with other artists. I will stop feeling embarrassed around other artists I deem more talented. I’ll stop wiping it out. I’ll let go of ego, and open my mind and heart to experimentation, imperfection, and failure. I will stretch.  

 I’m going to “Paint the South” next week. For five days I will be outside and out of my comfort zone. I will start a new stack of panels in my closet, and in three years, they’ll be stacked to the ceiling again. At least I hope that's what happens. I will have grown, but I will always have more to do.