What’s Wrong with Comfort Zones?

Lately I’ve been reading a lot about the concept of “being at home”. As my husband and I both grow older, we do spend more time at home than ever before. And… we enjoy it. I can still remember being a young girl, looking at “adults” and thinking, “Don’t they get bored just staying at home all the time?”

Back then, life meant being “on the go” — always wanting to find where the action was, always wanting to share experiences with friends, always wanting to try new things. Adults, it seemed, had simply lost interest in anything meaningful.

Now, of course, my point of view has changed drastically. And I mean that both metaphorically and literally. Vision problems — mine and my husband’s — have made driving difficult. Where getting out and driving through the countryside once was an enjoyable way to spend the afternoon, it’s not something either one of us would want to do now.

Another factor is the weather. Here in the midwest our climate goes from one extreme to the other. In the winter we have temperatures dipping down to about -10 degree Fahrenheit, with even colder wind chills. Now, in the summer, the mercury in the thermometer regularly soars above 100 degrees Fahrenheit, and when you add in the “heat index” from the humidity… well, why would anyone want to go outside and do anything unless they had to!

Of course, add in the conveniences of today’s technology. We order from Amazon and get same-day delivery as often as not. Our groceries come from Wal-Mart, delivered right to our door. I pay bills online; we conduct as much business as possible through the computer, so our trips out and about are limited to:

• Doctor’s visits
• Once a week “pick up what we need at Aldi’s” trips
• Regular bowling league – 20 minutes away

Now, when I sat down here, I really didn’t intend to get so long-winded about our penchant for staying at home as much as possible. I merely wanted to make a point or two. #1 Staying home feels good. #2 Sometimes there are good reasons to stay home.

In the context of art and other creative pursuits — and, in fact, any “life area” — the concept of “being at home” has a slightly different meaning, albeit one that’s still closely related to the idea of physically being at home. To “be at home” in what we do means to feel comfortable there, to be able to enjoy the activities we perform, to be somewhat at peace with ourselves and what we’re doing.

If you were to ask me about areas where I’ve felt most “at home” during my life, I’d quickly mention music. I started playing piano at age 4 and went on to study the classics. Even now, and even with limited vision, if I were asked to sit down and play a piece of music, I would be fairly comfortable. Music is part of who I am, thus I am “at home” with it.

Then, there’s bowling. Bowling means a lot to me, and I’m good at it. I won’t go into explanations about how and why bowling became so important to me, but again, it’s a big part of who I am. Take me to any bowling alley anywhere in the country, and whether I’ve been there before or not, it wouldn’t matter. I would be “at home”.

This blog is not about music or bowling. It’s not directly about the challenges of getting older, although that indirectly affects art, along with everything else I do. But let’s talk about “art” and the concept of “being at home”.

I’ve mentioned many times the odd feeling that came over me when I went to purchase my very first sketchbook. I stood there in the art supply aisle feeling so completely “out-of-place” that I was almost concerned someone would see me and ask what in the world I was doing looking at art supplies! No, I didn’t belong there. And later on, after I “became an artist” (or so I was told) I felt so very uncomfortable going to art club meetings. I wasn’t “at home” there. I felt like an intruder, at best, a curious on-looker, at worst, an impostor trying to pretend to be an artist.

In time, of course, I became more comfortable, made friends with other artists, took part in art shows, won awards, and lo and behond! I can now enjoy talking about art and I can proudly walk into any art store and feel that it’s all right for me to be there.

The last few months have been spent organizing my art studio, all with an eye not just to physical “comfort” or “convenience” but also to “being at home” here. Where I once eagerly tried art projects with many different media, I’ve settled into doing things I enjoy and not bothering with the rest. So I have lots of acrylic paints and acrylic inks and colored pencils and watercolors that may never get used again. I have collections of gel pens and “scratchboard” tools. I have lots of collage papers. All of it was fun… once upon a time. But those things aren’t who I am as an artist.

For a long time that was a big question for me. As I “became an artist”, I was still quite unsure about what kind of artist I was really going to be. But now, stepping away and coming back has helped me clearly see who I am. I’m a landscape artist who loves working with water-mixable oils. I also love doing landscapes with oil pastels, and I have fun doing landscape sketches with graphite. This is who I am, and this is where I can “be at home” here in my art studio.

Yet over and over, we’re told to step outside of our “comfort zones”, to “get out of the box”, to “expand our horizons” — or substitute your favorite verbiage here. There are many different ways to say it. Psychologists and well-meaning professionals encourage us to try new things, to see how far we can go. The thinking, all the while, is “Try it. You might like it. You never know how far you can go unless you try.”

Good points, yes. But the other side of this “push yourself” coin is that it’s easy to push ourselves too far. Why deliberately make ourselves uncomfortable? Why force ourselves into unfamiliar territory where failure is likely to happen?

What’s wrong with staying in our comfort zones in art?

Sure, now and then, I can have a bit of fun playing with gansai or maybe doodling with those gel pens, but to me, that’s a bit like “visiting” another place. Nice to visit, but I can’t wait to return home.

Being at home here in my art studio means throwing on my old clothes, setting out a messy palette and squeezing out an array of colors. It means painting skies and clouds, grassy hillsides, leafy trees, gently flowing rivers, and a few wildflowers here and there. Being at home means working with paints and pigments from nature, loving the soft, muted colors, and creating scenes that make me feel good.

Just as my husband and I now find a sense of peace in staying at home, I now find peace here in the studio by staying in my “comfort zones”. I can still learn. I can still grow. But I can do it all while staying “at home” with the landscape painting I love to do.

How about you? Do you have artistic “comfort zones”? Do you stay there? Or are you still young and adventurous, eager to try everything? Let’s talk! I’d love to hear your thoughts.