The Strengths Behind Every Painting (and Transition)

Uncertainty is the price of growth.

A few weeks ago, I packed up my life in California and drove 3,600 miles across the country to Delaware. Along the way, I painted at the edge of the Grand Canyon, looked out over Monument Valley, and saw places I've been wanting to see for years.

But the trip wasn’t just about seeing new landscapes. It was about leaving behind what I knew and moving towards something new.

In a way, it felt like preparing for a new painting: exciting, but also uncertain of what's going to happen and how.

After a week in Delaware with family, I took a flight to Malaysia with a plan to stay for three months.

For the past three weeks, I’ve been staying in a small village, adjusting to a very different rhythm and way of life. Even a simple thing like crossing the street reminds me that I’m not at home anymore.

It's been a humbling, learning experience to say the least. Transitions like this always feel strange, no matter if you're traveling or trying a new process for creating art.

And while that feels uncomfortable, it’s also where the lessons begin.

Learning to Live with Uncertainty

Not long ago, I thought I might lose my job because I planned to move back to Delaware from California.

For weeks, the possibility hung in the air. I didn’t know what to expect, or what direction my future might take. That kind of uncertainty is heavy. It’s uncomfortable and it forced me to wait when I’d rather move forward.

I found myself battling with the limits of my patience.

But change rarely happens when we want it to. It has its own timing.

I’ve realized that patience is part of transition. You can’t rush into clarity. You have to let it come in its own time.

It's the same with painting. Understanding only comes after time, not at the start.

Sketchbook painting in Malaysia

Adapting to a New World

Staying in Malaysia has been a constant reminder of what it means to be a beginner again.

The culture is warm and welcoming, but it’s also different in ways I couldn’t have predicted.

So many things are different here (especially in the village):

• Cars drive on the opposite side of the road

• Light switches are flipped the other way

• Chickens, dogs, birds, and insects are super noisy early in the morning

• Things here are built more for function and efficiency

• Conversations in a new, foreign language (that I partially understand)

• Time and schedules are way more relaxed

• Being the only white person almost everywhere I go

Almost everything feels unfamiliar. In the beginning, I felt like I didn’t belong.

But after some weeks here, I'm adapting to it all.

That’s the challenge of transition: suddenly, nothing feels automatic.

What Transitions Teach Us

Transitions have a way of teaching lessons you don’t sign up for.

At first, they can feel disruptive or even painful. Like something's been taken from you. But if you stay with them long enough, you realize they’re shaping you in ways you couldn’t have planned yourself.

So far, here’s what I’ve been learning:

Patience:

Transitions don’t follow our timelines.

We want resolution now. We want the answers today. But life doesn’t work like that.

Think about the early stages of a painting. There’s usually very little clarity, and forcing the outcome too quickly ruins it. It takes time and patience to create an image out of nothing. To figure out what's working and what's not.

It's the same in life too.

Patience is learning to sit with the unknown. To trust that things will work out in their own time. It’s uncomfortable, but the waiting and the process shapes us just as much, if not more than the outcome.

Flexibility:

Change will always challenge the normal way of doing things.

What once felt automatic suddenly requires effort.

Driving, speaking, and even grocery shopping in a new culture forces me to bend instead of break.

It's not different in painting when something doesn't go as planned. You have to figure out a different way to solve the problem and adapt to the challenges in real time.

Flexibility isn’t just adapting to the moment though. It’s letting go of the belief that there’s only one right way to live or do something.

And with watercolor painting, sometimes it does what it wants and the best we can do is go along with it. Let it do its thing and make the best of it.

Humility:

Nothing reminds you that you don’t know everything quite like stepping into a different world or a new place.

Transition makes you a beginner again. And that’s humbling.

But humility opens the door to growth, because it puts you back in the mindset of a student. You're willing to listen, learn, and change when needed in order to grow.

I know for me, so many of my painting experiences have humbled me. And the only thing I can do is do my best to learn from them and listen to what the art is trying to tell me.

You can find these lessons and challenges when going through any kind of change in life. These are the same lessons you learn when starting a new job, entering a new relationship, or facing unexpected change.

The pattern is usually the same: uncertainty, discomfort, adaptation, and eventually, growth.

And the cool thing is that these are also the stages you go through in the process of making any piece of art.

You just need to be willing to be patient, flexible, and humble through these difficult stages of transition.

Art as a Mirror

Art reflects life and life reflects art.

What I love about making art is that there's always so many lessons you can learn in the process. I believe art and life go hand-in-hand.

All of these lessons I've been learning recently remind me of painting.

Every time I start a new piece, there’s a moment when everything is uncertain. I don’t know how it's going to turn out. I make plans in my mind, but they don't always pan out.

The first stage often feels awkward. Nothing makes sense yet. Sometimes I'm not even sure if I'm laying down the proper foundation. It can be a guessing game.

But with time, forms begin to emerge. The next layer brings out more life and it begins to make sense slowly.

And eventually, a painting takes shape. Often in ways I couldn’t have predicted at the start.

Life feels the same right now. Messy, uncertain, and uncomfortable. But I know that if I stick with it and keep showing up, the bigger picture will start to reveal itself.

Just like the process of creating a painting or a piece of art.

If you’re stuck in your art right now, treat it like a transition.

Let yourself be a beginner again. Lean into the chaos a bit. You might find that’s where the growth happens.

Just enjoy the moment. Embrace what life is giving you.

Every transition begins as a blank canvas. The only way forward is to start painting.

Thanks for reading.

- Brandon Schaefer

PS – Both art and life remind us: clarity and understanding come after the layers.