A Painting Reboot: Chasing the Signature Piece

Jennifer Jones
Jan 8
2 min read

My ideas were so big, I purchased a 36" x 48" canvas, certain even that could not contain my creativity. This was not a modest decision. This was a statement canvas. The kind that leans against the studio wall radiating confidence and silently daring you to disappoint it.

I decided it was time for a painting reboot. I wanted to create a “signature piece.” You know the kind, huge, grand, and destined to hang in the annals of artistic glory. Naturally, it needed a flamingo. And water. And a rocky background. Because if you’re going big, you might as well go flamingo.

Armed with a stack of photos and a mental collage of brilliance, I dove in. I started with the background, eager to get to the main subject: a little girl peering into the water, with a flamingo reflected back at her. In my head, this painting was already finished and receiving compliments.

I decided to tackle the reflection first. Surely this was the clever part. I worked on the flamingo in the water, adjusting color, ripples, and light, confident this would anchor the entire painting reboot. This was where the magic was supposed to happen.

Then I tried the little girl.

I worked on her. And worked on her. And worked on her some more. Something wasn’t right. Her proportions were questionable. Her expression hovered somewhere between confused and deeply suspicious. Her soul had clearly opted out. I told myself I’d come back to her later. Artists do that. It’s a thing.

Little-known fact: painting human figures is hard. Really hard. I have only painted one or two actual humans in my life, and there is a very good reason for that. My last series involved grotesques, creatures I gave human characteristics to. They were delightful models. They had no opinions about the finished painting, and any flaws only enhanced the overall look. A crooked eye? Personality. An odd limb? Artistic intention.

Humans are not so forgiving.

Humans notice things. Humans have expectations. Humans insist their arms attach properly and their faces remain firmly out of the uncanny valley.

Then came the big reveal: art class. I set the painting out, quietly anticipating admiration. Gary studied it carefully. Then… nothing. He had no idea how to make it work the way I wanted it to.

I assumed he meant the proportions. I have learned over the years that if I just keep going, eventually he will help me make it work. So, I shrugged off the confusion and pressed on equal parts determined, stubborn, and privately alarmed.

It didn’t take long to realize the painting reboot was not cooperating with my vision. At all.

And so, the little girl and the flamingo were painted over. Gone. Erased like they never existed. I returned to the background, humbled by a canvas that was still very much in charge.

We’ll see where it leads from here.