Designer Charles Eames, arguably the quintessential Renaissance Man of the twentieth century, used to complain good-naturedly that he devoted only about one percent of his energy to conceiving a design - and the remaining ninety-nine percent to holding onto it as a project ran its course.

The irony here is that the piece you make is always one step removed from what you imagined, or what else you can imagine, or what you’re right on the edge of being able to imagine. That moment of completion is also, inevitably, a moment of loss - the loss of all the other forms the imagined piece might have taken. Finally, at some point or another, the piece could not be other than it is, and it is done. The development of an imagined piece into an actual piece is a progression of decreasing possibilities, as each step in execution reduces future options by converting one - and only one - possibility into a reality. It’s the same for all media: the first few brushstrokes to the blank canvas satisfy the requirements of many possible paintings, while the last few fit only that painting - they could go nowhere else. But as the piece grows, technique and craft take over, and imagination becomes a less useful tool. The artwork’s potential is never higher than in that magic moment when the first brushstroke is applied, the first chord struck. Imagination is in control when you begin making an object. Vision, Uncertainty, and Knowledge of Materials are inevitabilities that all artists must acknowledge and learn from: vision is always ahead of execution, knowledge of materials is your contact with reality, and uncertainty is a virtue. Lesson for the day: vision is always ahead of execution - and it should be. When he raised David’s discovery from an expression of self-doubt to a simple observation of reality, uncertainty became an asset. To which the Master replied, “What makes you think that ever changes?” After a few months’ practice, David lamented to his teacher, “But I can hear the music so much better in my head than I can get out of my fingers.” Consider the story of the young student - well, David Bayles, to be exact - who began piano studies with a Master. More often, though, fears rise in those entirely appropriate (and frequently recurring) moments when vision races ahead of execution. If you’re prone to disaster fantasies you may even find yourself caught in the middle, staring at your half-finished canvas and fearing both that you lack the ability to finish it, and that no one will understand it if you do. Fears arise when you look back, and they arise when you look ahead.

Art & fear by david bayles