The Unconscious Repertoire: When Technique Becomes Art

I still remember the pain in my fingertips.

For years, I studied classical guitar, spending countless hours wrestling with the technical demands of the instrument. Each chord was a new contortion, each transition a mental puzzle. The work was all-consuming, a passionate focus on improving the mechanics of the music.

In those early days, I was keenly aware of every mistake, and my learning was defined by the process of correcting those mistakes as quickly as possible. My mind, my muscles, and my will were all focused on one thing: technique.

But then, over time, something miraculous began to happen. The chords found their home in my hands. The transitions became fluid, instinctual.

The conscious, cognitive effort began to fade, and the techniques became, as I shared in my video this month, part of an “unconscious repertoire.” My mind was finally free from the ‘how’, and I could begin to truly focus on the ‘why’—the emotion, the story, the soul of the music itself.

This journey from conscious effort to unconscious mastery is the hidden story behind every great work of art. It is true for the musician, the therapist learning the skills of empathy, and most certainly for the painter.

When you look at a painting, you are seeing the culmination of thousands of hours of this exact process. The artist has wrestled with the foundational elements of their craft, which we identify in our Artist Process & Prosperity Model as their chosen Tradition, Method, Form, and Medium. They have learned the techniques of how to hold a brush, how to blend paint, how to create the illusion of light and shadow, and how to compose a scene that draws the eye and the heart.

The ultimate goal of all this labour, however, is to make it disappear.

The true master is not the one who shows you how clever their technique is, but the one whose technique is so perfectly integrated that it becomes invisible. What emerges is not the process, but the presence. What you are left with is not an appreciation for the brushwork, but an immediate, intuitive connection to the feeling the artist intended to convey.

So the next time you stand before a painting that moves you, take a moment to appreciate the disappearing act. Know that the effortless beauty you see is the result of immense effort. It is the product of a journey from painful practice to a state of grace, where the artist’s hand, heart, and mind have finally learned to speak in a single, authentic voice.

This article is cross posted with our Substack Publication Oz FineArt Collective - where you can subscribe for more great content. Go to