This could possibly be the most annoying bit of 'advice' you can ever take as a new artist. So easy to say but sooo unhelpful!
As an art student at college, I also studied History of Art. This gave me the opportunity to visit galleries and to look at the works of the great Masters - for about an hour, then I just went to the pub with my friends on the same course and had a brilliant weekend in London.
However, one painting I saw changed the way I thought about Art. That was the moment I realised that painting wasn't just about the classroom and drawing boring pictures of old cameras or spheres and cones which I'd come to associate it with. It was about the feelings a painting could evoke in someone. Standing in the tranquil surroundings of the Tate, I stood in front of the huge, ornately framed painting, "Ophelia", by Millais and stared, taking in every beautiful detail the Artist had painstakingly portrayed. It was absolutely breathtaking.
After tearing myself away, I followed my friends to - you guessed it - the gift shop, and I bought a 6" x 4" postcard of the painting and showed it to my friend. "Isn't this the most beautiful thing you've ever seen?" I enthused. She looked at it, shrugged and replied, "Meh". (Obviously, beauty is in the eye of the beholder.)
Back at college, my attitude towards Art had changed. I wanted to create something that made others feel and not just think, "Oh, that's a good picture of a pair of wellies."
Years of practice and trying out different ways to paint - loosening my brushstrokes, painting large landscapes and modern abstracts - I then painted a portrait of my dog, Coco. Everyone who knew Coco loved her and my painting of her brings back so many lovely memories since she passed away.
So, that was it. I knew what I wanted to paint and I began to love what I was painting. I even began to look forward to handing over a finished commission, to see the reactions of my customers as they saw their beloved pet immortalised in a painting, confident that it would bring wonderful memories for years to come.
I had found my style ... eventually. (Grrrrr.)
Ophelia by Sir John Everett Millais. Tate London.
Coco by me.