Knowing when to stop

Starting projects has never been a problem, but finding an ending, well that's another story! I think because it took me so long to really embrace my love of art there is a sense of time running out and needing to create my best work now, which is obviously problematic...so how do you know when to stop? If you are building a cabinet or set of shelves it is pretty clear when you are done, but when it comes to painting or creating a sculpture the end point is not always so clear. My teacher Julie says "you just know"...I suspect that this magical knowing comes from lots of practice, "painting mileage" (as Jenny Watson calls it) and looking at other artist's work. I find stepping back from my own work and looking from a distance can help...its a little like knowing when to leave a job or a relationship...sometimes we need to step back in order to see clearly the moment when it ends. This happened for me recently when i left my job of 10 years. For several months before I found myself moving in widening circles and seeing things from new perspectives as I allowed myself the freedom and space to let go of what I had known. Strangely I also found myself returning to old familiar habits, drinking more than usual and binge watching tv, as I tried to hold on to what I knew all the while knowing I needed to stop! The sketch below, done in Brisbane in 2013, reminded me of how often i have reached a point in a drawing or painting when i probably should have stopped, but my drive to 'finish it' or "get it right" got in the way, and i overworked it. But sometimes that is also how we learn. My mother used to say "You'll learn the hard way Alison!" I am not entirely sure how helpful that was and I have since replaced that mantra with a growing collection of practices that I find much more conducive to learning. For example,  noticing without judgement; embracing my mistakes and finding something worth remembering; learning to love all of my experience; accepting the natural pauses that arise in my creative flow and allowing grace in the moments between the movement and the inertia. Grappling with ongoing health issues had helped me to find a gentle patience with my process rather than continually comparing myself to others. Surrendering to stillness has taken time but I practice as often as I remember....I step away from the canvas, feel into my body and my breath, I let go and move to another one. Paradoxically, continuing to practice allows me to see more of what I need to do less of, create new habits and do more of the little things that matter. The stopping happens and if I forget, my body usually helps me to remember so enough!