Over the years I’ve noticed two types of artists: those who enter art competitions, those who don’t.
        The artists I’ve talked to that don’t enter competitions either fear the risk of rejection or have reached sainthood and seem not to have a competitive bone in their bodies. “I just paint for fun. It’s relaxing for me. Art is just something for me to do.”
        And the rest of us mortals down here on planet Earth clambering to reach the next rung on the ladder, why do we enter? Are we just ego-driven, co-dependents addicted to the drama? The euphoric highs of winning and the deadening lows of that other word, I can’t bring myself to say?
        Anyone who has been entering competitions for any length of time knows this fact. You win a few and you lose a few. (There, I said it and I feel better already). It’s just part of the game. And a game it is.
        In juried, national shows, I think it is often a game of chance. There might be well close to a thousand entries from some of the best artists in the world and maybe eighty will be selected. Not quite as bad as the odds of winning the lottery, but close, considering the other players. It’s also a game of subjectivity. It can’t help but be. One judge’s comments I heard over two years ago helped put this in perspective.
        During the reception (kudos to her for even being there) she offered to give feedback if asked by the artist on any painting in the show, both those that had received award recognition and those that had not. Of a painting in the latter group, she said, “This is probably the best handling of the medium in a classic manner in the show. It is technically perfect. It just did not grab me emotionally.” In my opinion, that judge’s comments were helpful. If I were the artist, I think I would have felt affirmed and in a better state to receive from her and reach deeper into my artist’s self during the next effort.
        I would like to say this is always the case, but it is not. And I would warn those who are just beginning to enter competitions to implore the “guard of your heart” against judges more inclined to pontificate than illuminate.
        The most constructive feedback from a judge I ever received was a question. Looking at the panting he simply asked, “Where are your areas of rest?” Well, there weren’t any, but don’t you know, I've asked myself that same question before every painting since. But on the flip side, the most destructive feedback I ever received was punctuated with so many “DON’T EVERS!” I wanted to tuck tail and run for the hills.
        So, I ask again, why go through all of this? Why enter? I can only answer for myself.
        Competitions have often brought out my best. To meet deadlines I’ve worked in my studio many hours more than I would have otherwise, both late into the night and before the sun rose in the morning. I have worked when I’ve been tired and would rather have not and I have worked when the painting was way more tired than I was.
        In those “wee hours” of pushing through barriers and competing with myself, I believe more discipline, determination and resolve gets hammered out and may possibly be more of a contributor to my artistic growth than any small bit of talent I may have been given.
        I am not anywhere near where I long to be artistically. There is still something that has not yet come to fruition that yearns to be expressed in my art. All I know is that I am somewhere in the middle of this journey and I must continue.
        A “notification of decline” letter I once received read, “Don’t be discouraged the same painting entered another year with a different judge and yours might have been chosen.”
        There’s always the hope of next time. Enjoy the journey!