In an industry that often rewards relentless output, there is something radical in the act of stopping. For fine artist Lucy Richards, perfection is overrated anyway (and usually late), instead it’s more about trust and growth, along with the creative maturity to accept. After all, if you’re not slightly confused or surprised by the result, did you even make art?
Every artist wrestles with it: when is a piece actually done, and when are you just done with it? Many visual artists discover that the finish line isn’t always a clear destination, but often is a feeling, a decision or even an act of surrender. For Lucy Richards, a graduate artist, returning to fine art after a chapter in illustration has become a quiet rediscovery of knowing when to stop.
“If I’m honest I don’t think paintings are ever truly finished, I feel like there’s always more that you could do but it’s just a case of having the willpower to say enough’s enough.
“However it is also important to take a break and walk away from it, then when you come back with fresh eyes you can look at it again and decide if it needs something else or if this is the final product.”
Her artistic journey began with oil painting in fine art, before taking a detour into an illustration degree at Falmouth University, a choice made from practicality over passion.
“I thought an illustration degree would be like a baby of fine art and graphic design, which I took at A-levels”, she says. “But I kind of forced myself into doing a style which I didn’t really feel comfortable doing.”
Now, Lucy Richards has returned to her roots, experimenting with landscapes, watercolours and oil pastels, guided by instinct: “I work part-time so at the moment it is a hobby, but I’m really trying to push my work to try and network more to showcase it, I know it’s not going to be a short process.”
Still, no matter how much her style evolves, one question lingers – how do you really know when a piece is finished?
“When I’ve come back with fresh eyes, the final thing I do is peel off the masking tape from the edge of the canvas and after I’ve done that I mentally accept that I can no longer adjust it.”
Letting go isn’t always so straightforward: “It sounds bratty but, if something is not going right I’ll scrap it and restart it in a different way, rather than forcing it to be something it’s not.”
Lucy’s mindset on completion also informs how she perceives her older pieces: “When I was younger I did a dog portrait that’s downstairs and for some reason it’s on a neon pink background. I always wonder why I did that, it’s just not me, but I definitely intend on going back and reworking it to reflect my style now.”
Commissions, on another hand, offer their own challenges to finishing a piece: “In the past I’ve felt pressured doing something that wasn’t my style under commission timeframes, now I’d rather make the piece and then clients buy it from me as they know what they’re getting and it’s when I’m completely finished with it.”
In retrospect, some of her favourite pieces have been created when she has just simply let things be: “A lot of my work is experimental, sometimes just walking away earlier is better than overworking it.
“If you go into a piece with an exact idea in your head then you can set yourself up for disappointment, I normally enjoy the work more when I go in with an open mind and not knowing what the final product will be.”
The art scene is all about exploration, however time is valuable and due to the infinite role of creating, learning to let go isn’t about finding the perfect endpoint, it’s also about finding peace with the process.
“Occasionally I’ll spend a couple of days or a week on a painting and you come to the end and realise it’s not your favourite piece.”
It’s this mindset of acceptance that helps mute the pressure of perfectionism, “It is a learning curve for me, just because it’s not complete in my eyes, doesn’t mean it’s not someone else’s favourite piece.”
This lesson became clear during her recent trend where she watercolours daily and shares it on social media. “I had posted a piece recently thinking that it was terrible, but I posted it and it got loads of likes and comments.
“It just goes to show that you can be your harshest critic.”
Not every piece is lucky enough to meet the finish line, Lucy said: “A couple of months ago I did an A5 piece experimenting with oil pastels and it was just not working because it was too small, so I started something completely different. You just need to have faith in your process and admit if something isn’t right.”
To Lucy, her art journey has allowed her to recognise the right moment to let go (even if she really doesn’t want to): “I’ve evolved to realise the point in which I’m just slapping things on, in my personal experience, overworking it can often make it worse.
Finishing a piece is certainly not finite, Lucy has learnt that there’s a fine line between being done and adding a few more contributions to a piece: “When I was younger I’d thought, ‘it’s done but it doesn’t look right’, whereas now I’m more open-minded and educated to know what needs refining and what feels right.
“It’s not about making a piece perfect, because creating art isn’t linear, it’s about the piece feeling complete to me.”
Over time, Lucy has discovered that this question mark around completion has become more of a punctuation point, subtly decisive, often imperfect but always necessary: “Naturally you won’t love it at every stage, you have to trust yourself and it usually comes together.”