How we re-invent ourselves is a common theme these days as we emerge from the pandemic. Underneath all that “quiet quitting” is a yearning among many to do something else. I recently was inspired by how the artist Henri Matisse re-invented himself late in life.
When I first moved to Washington DC, I went to a temporary exhibit about Matisse’s cutouts at the East Wing of the National Gallery. I was young and did not know much about them at the time and I thought they were sensational. I was impressed by his evolution into pure fields of color and using the color to render the images. It seemed to me a logical progression from his history of using color in new ways. I was so excited about them I bought two very large posters of his cutouts and put them on the walls of my small apartment.
The passage of time changes how we see things. At the time I first viewed Matisse’s cutouts, I did not realize he was re-inventing how he made art. But that is clear to me now. Unknown to the casual viewer, Matisse was forced to re-invent because in his 70s he developed serious gastroenterological problems and was physically unable to paint. He couldn’t stand, and it was hard to hold a brush, so he built on his earlier experiments of cutting paper.
I learned of this while watching an art documentary, which included a short clip of Matisse creating a cutout. He was sitting and wielding huge scissors with speed and skill. He wasn’t carefully cutting on a line; he simply knew where he was going. He took color to its logical conclusion and combined painting and sculpture to create pictures in new ways.
Matisse re-invented because he had to, of course. This spurred me to seek out a well-known biography bySpurling to get to the bottom of what was going on when he re-invented. (“Matisse the Master: A Life of Henri Matisse – The Conquest of Color 1909-1954″).
Spurling described how Matisse didn’t sit down and think about where to go next; he did not seek to invent something new. Instead, it was creation accomplished by paring down: Subtraction, not addition. He realized that he didn’t need to paint to create. He re-invented himself by getting down to his essence, the things he cared about the most, and the most important elements of his art. My take on Matisse is that much of his career was based on getting to the essentials, so this re-invention seems like a logical next step.
I have no idea if Matisse would have progressed to cutouts had he not become ill. Perhaps his progression tells us that we cannot consciously think about our purpose or “big why” and decide to go off in a completely new direction, disconnected from our past and our abilities. We must remain connected to who we are but allow ourselves to evolve. In that light, a great first step to facilitate a natural self-reinvention is to spend time (perhaps with a coach!) thinking about what the essential elements of you are, and what you do. This process can form your foundation, eliminating the paths you won’t really go down, and the less important.
There are a few things I think we can learn from Matisse’s re-invention:
First, change and re-invention is made possible by leveraging an existing talent. His scissor work and ability to visualize where he’s going is made possible by a lifetime of looking and seeing and painting and adjusting. And removing what doesn’t belong. I would not be able to start doing cutouts tomorrow and expect to get the same results, and I bet you couldn’t either. We are not Matisse. Part of our essence is the talent we have.
Second, don’t try to do it alone. Matisse had help; his assistant, Lydia Delectorskaya, helped lay out the cutout pieces and adjust them at his direction. Other assistants had to mix the paints and paint the paper he’s cutting out. We can’t re-invent ourselves alone – or we shouldn’t try when we’ll be better off with help.
Third, words matter, Matisse used them to explain the context and what’s going on. His Jazz book came with some text, in his unique handwriting that he thought was part of the visual experience. Being able to explain what is going on helps everyone – ourselves included – make sense of what is happening. The act of writing also helps you make sense of the changes you are undergoing and effectuating.
Finally, allow yourself to be shaped by the vagaries of life. For many of us, illness or job loss or some other misfortune might be a driver of change. We can’t control what happens, but we can control how we react. Resilience might well derive from our essential elements as well.
I can’t re-invent myself by suddenly deciding I’ve got to paint and moving to Tahiti. I can’t paint. Any re-invention I do, or that anyone does, will build on my essential abilities. We can learn from Matisse about taking the best of ourselves and reapplying it in new ways to create marvelous new art and new versions of ourselves.