When Words and Art Don’t Feel Right: My Artistic Process in Action

Jennifer Jones
Jan 24
2 min read

Have you ever looked at a word, and then looked at it again, and it just didn’t look right?

I recently made myself laugh when I wrote about coffee. For some reason, I kept calling it County Door instead of Door County. I even published a blog with it wrong. (Don’t go back and check, I’ve corrected it. Or at least, I think I have.) It’s funny how you can go along on autopilot, only to pause and think, wait… is that right?

Then, of course, down the rabbit trail I went. Where is Door County anyway? And why is it called Door County? I’m so glad I looked it up, because now I get to tell you. Door County is a peninsula in Wisconsin, with Sturgeon Bay serving as its county seat. Sturgeon Bay itself has a population of just under ten thousand, while the county stretches along Wisconsin’s coastline, surrounded by water on nearly all sides. Which honestly explains a lot. Between the name, the coffee, and the scenery, it sounds absolutely amazing, and now I kind of want to pack a bag and see it for myself. See, now you took a trip down the rabbit trail too!

Art often feels the same way. Take Ed, the wonderful buffalo. When I painted him in 2021, I thought he was amazing. His presence filled the canvas, and I was thrilled with the result. But then I looked closer. His muzzle seemed slightly off, his eyes didn’t quite capture the warmth I imagined. And suddenly, Ed wasn’t right in my mind. So, began a careful journey of adjusting him, part of my artistic process. Not because he was wrong, but because I needed him to feel right to me. Sometimes, art isn’t about mistakes; it’s about tuning in to what your heart notices, even if the world would never see it.

Ed's Evolution.

Then there’s the octopus in Pink on the Ocean Floor. I was certain the eyes were perfect. I took a couple of days away from the painting, confident I had nailed it. But when I returned, something shifted. That little hesitation in the gaze was enough to pull me back in. It wasn’t wrong, per se, but it wasn’t right either. So, I adjusted, tinkered, and polished until the eyes finally felt alive in the way I imagined.

Pink's eye movement.

These experiences remind me that art, like words, is alive. Sometimes it needs to be paused, looked at again, and nudged ever so slightly to align with our vision. And sometimes, it’s just a funny reminder that even the most careful work can trip us up, or make us laugh, before it finds its perfect place.

Whether it’s a word that won’t sit right on a page, a buffalo’s slightly crooked muzzle, or an octopus with the wrong gaze, it’s all part of the adventure. And if you happen to see me muttering to my paintings about their attitude problems, just know I’m probably having the most fun I’ve had all day.