Demonslaying 101 Part III

 

We’re back with Demon Slaying 101, our exploration of some things that can internally plague an artist on an emotional level to make their arting a really difficult experience. So let’s get back at it with Part III…

We may envy those who seem to have the touch of genius we lack, the innate talent that we feel eludes us, yet the truth is artmarking is a really set of learned skills that even the most seemingly gifted individual still has to spend years honing. Honestly, if we speak with our own creative Voice from our heart and guts, we’re already an artist, just one in the rough and that’s polished with training and experience. And how does that come? By pro-active learning, workshops, retreats, and classes, and with the completion of so so soooo many pieces. Oodles of pieces. Pieces coming out of our ears! And mistakes — so many mistakes! Without a doubt, failing greatly and failing forwards are some of our best pathways for progress. So if we’re afraid of making mistakes, become paralyzed by the prospect or spin our wheels trying to chase perfection, we’ve missed the point. We’ve misinterpreted how the arting process works and how the human brain learns because, absolutely, it’s the artist who finishes herds of pieces — with all the mistakes — who’ll rocket ahead of the one who futzes and fiddles trying to get things perfectly right with just a few. It seems counterintuitive, but that’s how perfecting a skillset works.

Come to understand the dichotomy of realities between the artist’s experience and that of the viewer. In other words, our concerns, priorities, and journey will never be the same. Artists make art for their own deeply personal reasons and have their own struggles doing that, but all the viewer will really be concerned with is the finished product and whether they’re moved by it, intrigued or amused by it, repulsed by it, make a bundle off it, or love it. Our job is to create art and the viewer’s job is to respond to it. Now some may care about our journey and love to hear about the process — which is so awesome — but in the end it’s all about the finished product with most, and that’s okay. Indeed, our journey was for us alone. Know it or not, too, but making art is really a solitary endeavor. Sure, we can create our pieces in a crowded room, but in the end, it’s about us in the isolated moment with our piece, with reality siphoning away except for a singular point of concentration. No one will ever exist in that moment with us — we are alone in there, as it should be. Indeed, this can be one of the most beautiful inner spaces in our lives, so nestle in there content knowing that our experience as we art is just as important as that of the viewer as they oogle.

Understand that a lot of our work is actually training us for the creation of the stellar Blue Moon piece that, for mysterious reasons, simply sings loudest. No matter how exceptional our work is otherwise, there will always be those unexpected pieces that just seem to soar higher than the rest of our portfolio. Maybe the planets aligned, maybe our Muse showed up, maybe the laylines harmonized, maybe we tapped a hidden well of uncommon inspiration, maybe we unwittingly struck a cord with the audience — who knows — but it’s a phenomenon with all artists. Just as each of us will create a failure now and again then, so each of us will create a triumph now and again, and often by surprise. Truly then, our failures and “almost theres” are as essential to our progress as our greatest triumphs. In fact, they’re necessary for our greatest triumphs. One can even go so far as to say there's no failure in art, only insight. Sure, it hurts like hell to stumble, to fall short of where we wanted to land. It seriously sucks. It’s also embarrassing, frustrating, confusing, demoralizing, and depressing. But once we pull that out — and it can take time and distance to lift that off — what we have is a goldmine of insights for that Blue Moon piece to be created. Indeed, if we stop because of our pain, that opportunity is gone forever, right? We have to keep going even when things seem awful — we have to give our talent the opportunity to keep trying and learning, and more importantly, to give it the chance to make unexpected magic happen. We have to gut it out. As my buddy Ed Gonzales would say, “Each horse is practice for the next.”

Because — yes — accept that there will be pieces we create that, no matter how hard we tried, simply won’t live up to expectations, ours or otherwise. Every artist — even the most gifted — will have a “bad art day.” That’s just part and parcel of making art. When this happens, it’s so important to show kindness to ourselves because it will feel like a failure, but remember, if it was, it as a necessary one. Trust that at some point, somehow, it’ll show us its vital lesson that will propel us forwards. And just because this happens doesn’t mean we’re a loser or that we’ve lost our touch or any number of other negatives we can inflict on ourselves. It's normal, natural, expected, and a phenomenon that happens to every single artist periodically in their careers. It just happens to be our day. Work through it, learn from it, accept it, and know that it’s proof we’re actually progressing and evolving. Just as importantly too though, understand that when some in the community latch onto that piece and single it out — for whatever reason — it means they just don’t “get” the process of making art and they aren’t even willing to meet us halfway. Really, it’s a worse reflection on them than it could ever be on us and our work. Don’t sweat it — we’ll have the last laugh later.

In the end though, you know what actually makes us a successful artist? Doing the work. Not waiting around for inspiration — doing the work. Not sitting around daydreaming about it — doing the work. Not sketching out or mocking up concept after concept — doing the work. Not reading up on technique upon technique trying to decide which is best — doing the work. And do a lot of it. Over and over and over again. Yes — we’re going to create errors, probably big ones. Yes — we’re going to have to start all over again sometimes. Yes — we’re going to get stuck and confused at times. Yet each of those conditions is an opportunity, an open door, not a failure, not a dead end. This is because the human brain is designed to learn from repeated doing and from making mistakes, so we need to allow it to do just that. As RuPaul said, “You betta work!”

So let’s talk about stopping making our art. We’ve had it with setbacks and disappointments, with feeling unappreciated and ignored, of failure after failure. Here’s the thing though — from the outside, both those artists who’ve stopped and those who keep going share feelings that are virtually indistinguishable. Yes, it’s true. The feelings, experiences, and struggles of all artists are really quite similar because making art entails similar challenges. So why do some stop while some keep going? Well, in a nutshell, those who keep going have learned how not to quit. How? For starters, they’ve learned how to create within the intrinsic discomfort of the artistic reality, the inherent psychological distress our demons introduce into the experience and not because they deny them, but they’ve learned to manage, mute, or manipulate them. They’ve also learned how to stop — to take breaks to regroup or reflect — without ever quitting outright. Maybe they work on other things to later circle back, sometimes decidedly different things. The trick is to keep the creative momentum going even if that means going sideways for a time. In short, they’ve learned how to always “come home,” to quote Elizabeth Gilbert. They’ve realized that the love of making their art is stronger than the pain associated with its failures, and that becomes the fuel for slogging ahead despite it all. What also seems to distinguish those artists is a willingness to challenge their demons; those who challenge their fears continue whereas those who don’t, quit. And each step in the arting process will test that resolve. In a very real sense then, each piece is truly earned.

“Talent is cheap — you have to be obsessed otherwise you are going to give up.” 

~ John Baldessari

When it comes to talent, we think of it as something that makes great work come easily, right? Natural geniuses just seem to pull awesomeness out of the ether gracefully and effortlessly like it was magic. But the truth is making art isn’t easy for anyone, all the time. Those who seem gifted just make the struggle appear more seamless and smooth, that’s all. A lot of it, too, is the memory of experience, the knowledge base earned from finishing a lot of different kinds of work which brings with it more confident tool strokes and stronger concepts. But trust me — even natural talents struggle in their own way. So here’s a secret: Talent is cheap. Dirt cheap. Less than a dime a dozen. Honestly, if talent was a prerequisite for great work, that work would have been a snap to materialize, right? Banged out perfectly first try, yes? But betcha it wasn’t. And every artist goes through productive periods and dry spells, leaps ahead and false starts, changes their mind midway, gets frustrated and lost during the process, re-energizes inspiration or becomes demoralized, finds perfect clarity or frustrating confusion, fighting their own demons every step of the way. Every artist, even those who are tremendously popular and successful. And — yes — sure, natural talent does exist and it does make things a bit easier, but it’s not the pre-determiner of success. If it did, all those child prodigies would have turned into Beethovens, Annie Leibovitzs, Van Goghs, and Georgia O’Keeffes, right? The world is full of those with tremendous natural gifts who still fall short or even achieve nothing with that talent whatsoever. So yeah, plenty of people have natural talent but, well…so what? What’s the game changer here then? It’s working on working, on learning from the work, on improving and growing and practicing the discipline needed to progress in our skills. That’s the determiner of success! And the good news is that anyone can do this, natural talent or not. The idea that great artists are these magical Unicorns imbued with god-like gifts is a romantic one, but incomplete. It’s also destructive because it convinces people they’re not suitable for creativity perfectly within their reach. Anyone can make art, and anyone willing to put in the work can make good art, and anyone willing to put in their heart, soul, and guts can make great art. Just remember that art making is never easy so what’s really the important part is how much hard work, dedication, and passion we pour into it that generates our wonderful leaps in ability and concept. So — yes — talent can make it easier but it’s always a bumpy road getting there, and eventually talent will be matched by experience and moxie. What’s more, natural talent can actually make an artist lazy, blasé, or neglectful in the long run because it can turn too much into a crutch of overconfidence. Yet there are those who are hungrier who’ll go shooting past because they’re more apt to really dig in to refine their skills and excel where natural talent left off. The lesson here is: Don’t rely on natural talent and don’t put too much credence in it either. It’s incidental, not the pre-determiner of success. It also doesn’t mean that those “without natural talent” are inherently inferior either. It just means they just have to work a little bit harder to coax out their gifts which actually sets them up for much better habits and attitudes that help them so much throughout their career.

It’s important to have ever-evolving, moving goals. One doesn’t have to be greater than the previous, but they should be diverse and expanding. See, the thing is, if we establish an end all-be all, all-encompassing goal, that’s great and all, but what happens when we reach it? What then? What will our next measure of achievement be? Having big goals is important for making art, yet we have to be careful in how we cultivate them and to stay open to their evolution as we evolve. Truly, what was meaningful last year may no longer be and that’s okay. Truth be told, too, the best goals are deeply personal ones, those that move us as artists on our journey rather than as validation fests or popularity contests. Yet ask this, too — in the absence of viewership, of commentary, of exhibition, of encouragement, would we still create? How many quit simply because the outlet for their work has shifted or evaporated? How many quit when a support system bottoms out for them? On the other hand, how many keep going despite this? This does imply one thing though — art usually likes to be shared, it likes to be seen and seeks to be understood. It’s an interactive, shared experience for the most part. So find conduits to do just that, like supportive ones on social media and likeminded friends and colleagues who can serve as wonderful reservoirs of sharing and support. The point is there are other forms of validation that don’t come with a prize that are enriching and meaningful, too.

It’s helpful to realize that fear can take many forms…procrastination, avoiding deadlines, distraction by the success of others, complaining about materials or methods, overindulgence of social media, and actually anything that keeps us from giving the piece our most is really an avoidance, a manifestation of fear. Yet the call to our art is a high endeavor. It gives meaning and purpose to our life, enriching it with experience and memory. In this big lofty idea then, aren’t our fears more of an annoying distraction than a reflection of reality? The truth is our fears have more to do with what’s going on in our heads than with our actual artworks, that our art is probably much nicer than we believe only we’re wearing self-stabbing glasses every time we look at it. Try learning to take them off every so often.

Have we ever lamented that the idea in our head looks so much better imagined than realized by our hands? Many beginners already accept this since they’re aware their skills aren’t so highly developed yet, but this can be a real pebble in the shoe of more advanced artists who can be plagued by the cascade of frustrations this disconnection can cause. Here’s a secret though: This is totally normal even when we’ve been at this successfully for years. Truly, no matter how talented and experienced we are, what’s in our head can sometimes just be better than what we’ve created with our hands no matter how hard we tried. As it should be though. Our vision should periodically outpace our abilities, sensibilities, and perceptions because it keeps us stretching and reaching for more. Here uncertainty is a positive then, isn’t it? In the not knowing, we challenge ourselves, imagine bigger ambitions and become bolder in our choices. But the thing is, too, every piece is an edited progression in concept from generality to specificity. As David Bayles in the book Art & Fear observes, from the first stroke that could fit onto many pieces to the very last one which could only fit onto that one piece, a finished work is an amalgam of diminishing possibilities as it’s honed to its final state until it can be honed no further and so it’s done. In kind, our frustration between the concept and reality can be a kind of mourning for all those lost possibilities that got cut out in the editing process of creation. Every other form that piece could have been is gone, right? Along those lines, the concept in our head is always like a perfect dream — things just seem inexplicably better in our vision because they’re idealized by the energy of its inspiration. But holding onto that perfection gets harder and harder as the piece transforms into reality, doesn’t it? Add all this up and, oddly enough, the finished piece will often just be a sideways step from the one we envisioned in our heads as it took on a life of its own in creation. This isn’t a failure, this is an inevitable and natural outcome of arting, just a reality of the process. And it’s not such a bad thing, is it? Letting a piece create itself typically leads to stronger work, and learning to let go during the process is often a healthier attitude. Plus, this effect also leaves the door open for a variation within a series, right? And it keeps our imaginations pliable and yearning which feeds into our inspiration and ambition. It may also explain why artists may return to previous concepts to reimagine them.

Like it or not then, uncertainty is part and parcel to making art. Do we have the skills to make this a go? Are we making sound choices? Will people like this piece at all? Heck, will we ever be satisfied with anything we create? The fact is we literally won’t know the outcome until the piece is finally complete. Yet our clay and our paint will only ever do what our hands make them do — they can do nothing other than that. Our materials are simply potential, nothing more. So uncertainty and unpredictability are normal, expected, part of the process again, not a failure. And it’s okay to change our minds at any time! Heck, maybe it’s that curious moment when the reality ends up being better than the concept — go with it! Leave space for the piece to create itself, and curiously enough, great pieces take control very quickly. Actually, in many ways, we’re obliged to allow that to happen despite our own ideas. Sometimes we just have to let go to grab the tail of that magical Blue Moon piece. But the point is that many brilliant pieces were mere moments away from total failure at any point before they were finished. Had the artist not gutted it out and remained determined and open to the possibilities, who knows what pieces would have been scrapped? The creative process always exists on a razor’s edge of improbability.

Likewise, another handy idea is to understand that, ironically, even in our highly controlled, technical art form, a high degree of control isn’t always the best solution to the challenge at hand. Really, the paradox is that if we apply more rigidity to a problem, things can actually spin out of control even more. Instead, relinquishing control, of remaining open and adaptive to happy accidents, new ideas, or changes, of rolling with mistakes and backtracking to start again at any point, and of letting the piece lead the process is usually the strategy that mediates this. Yes, that’s unpredictable, yet it’s those artists who embrace uncertainty, who learn to let go of the tyrant of rigid expectation — of theirs and that of others — who tend to tumble fastest forwards. The chaos of the unknown within the gap between concept and reality isn’t something to be feared and it’s not something to be locked down in a controlling vise either. It’s to be embraced as the energy source, the nucleus of creative potential our piece will draw from to create itself. And that’s a funny thing with the unexpected — we don’t often see our gifts at work because we could have created so instinctively, our conscious mind still hasn’t caught up yet. You know how it is when you create something amazing on autopilot! Or maybe our perception is skewed away from seeing all the things we got right in our finished piece and all the things we got wrong in our Vision. So stay open. Try to resist rigidity in the process of making art. Hard black and white answers aren't necessarily the right ones.

Learn to accept that fear and making art go hand in hand, even with the most experienced and confident artists. It’s handy to know though that fear usually distills into two categories: Fear about our own experience making our art and fear about how our work will be received by others. Inwards fear usually prevents us from doing our best work whereas outwards fear typically prevents us from making the bold, unique choices only we could make, or said another way, from using our own Voice fully and confidently. We’re going to fight on two fronts — that’s just the way of it. We can tell our selves to ignore the bombs coming from all sides then, but the truth is no artist is fully capable of that. Oh, we can con ourselves into thinking we’re immune for a time, but in the end, it all impacts us on some level to compound deep down. So instead of denying that energy, morph the fear into a challenge and an insight to get ahead of it. For instance, accept that our anxieties in part help us become more thoughtful and conscientious artists by keeping us open to the lessons of experience, emotion, innovation, and inspiration. Indeed, without that sensitivity, our work can stagnate rather quickly out of false confidence. On the other hand, if we worry about how others will react to our piece, try to focus on validations that come from within. What are we enjoying about our process? Are there particular aspects of our piece we really like? What sort of new things are we learning? What kind of triumph did we win on this piece? Is the inspiration fueling this piece especially fun to channel? And every once and awhile, sit back and marvel at the fact that we’re pulling this thing out of the ether that never existed before — we’re doing this — and isn't that wonderful? Don’t forget to leave room for all the amazingness we’re doing because it’s okay — in fact it’s really beneficial — to pat ourselves on the back every so often.

On that note, it’s incredibly important to realize that the concept of perfection is a dangerous trap. The typical idea most folks have is that good work is perfect work, right? But here’s the kicker — all human-made work is imperfect because humans are imperfect. The idea that perfection is achieved by creating a flawless piece then is ignoring the fact that this would disqualify even the most highly esteemed artists and art works. Truly, all work is flawed, even that by exquisitely gifted geniuses. And when we’re talking about our highly technical art form, the chance for error is to be expected — so be it. It is what it is. Yet it’s a nice lofty goal that keeps us stretching and that’s fantastic! An unreachable, pinnacle grail keeps things lively! But that’s just it, right? Keep it as a tool, a mechanism for learning, a means to an end rather than the end-all itself. Indeed, being able to let go of perfection — even in our technical genre — is so critical on so many levels! This is because perfection can stunt our development by compelling us to putter on a piece, never finishing to move onto the next. Perfectionism also generates an inevitable cycle of procrastination because not creating means not making mistakes, right? It’s avoidance. Perfection is also immensely intimidating, isn’t it? It can demoralize or paralyze an artist even before they begin! And there’s only one place to go with all this, isn’t there? Yes — not making art. But setting that heady goal of perfection isn’t the whole problem in itself as it’s also the unforgiveness we show ourselves when we fall short. We gotta stop doing that! It’s important to give ourselves room to be human. In this we should also fully understand this reality: Before we get good at something, we’re going to be awful at it. Isn’t that fantastic?! So much room for growth and discovery! We should also celebrate the fact that — yes — we’re going to make very public mistakes. People are going to see the blunders we create, there’ll be no hiding them. Yet this isn’t something to be horrified over and avoid or hide. It’s to be fully embraced without shame or reservation! Why? Well, it means we’re “showing up,” we’re doing something incredible and creating something that’s never existed before, and we’re trying our best, pouring our love into this wonderful thing. If anyone takes issue with that — hey — the problem is theirs and, boy, does that reflect badly on them! Take pride in our effort and even more in the journey we’ve started — it’s a brilliant thing! Now this isn’t to say we willy-nilly all the technical things in realism because we can’t — we have rules to follow. But even so, we do have to accept our human foibles as a counterbalance to this relentless taskmaster. Because there’s this as well — it’s around our imperfections where our humanity is to be found, too, the very thing we need most to create our work in the first place. In addition to all this, one thing to remind ourselves of often is that errors keep us hungry and evolving, keep our art form innovating and advancing, keep our expectations energized and curious, and push our dreams and inspirations past boundaries. Flaws are really our guides then, aren’t they? They point the way, mark the path, and show us the next horizon. Learn to embrace mistakes and we start to chip away at the paralysis of perfection to find new creative traction. This is difficult to accept — yes — but it’s precisely those who embrace imperfection who evolve, progress, and achieve so much. 

Now diving off from that, think about this…our ego. Look, we all have an ego. All of us. It’s just a function of the human psyche. So rather than deny it or try to carve it out, use it. Put it to work! Because here’s the thing, if we lash that ego onto something so ideal it’s a problem, even ultimately unattainable — like always having being to be right or always creating perfection — we’re going to run smack dab into a wall pretty quickly. It’s just going to end our joy in short order, and even paralyze us, make us miss opportunities, distort our thinking, and maybe threaten our relationships and professional ties. It’s just a bad place to be. So instead, tie our ego to something constructive and empowering like being a learner, a perpetual student who literally knows nothing and so stays open to new lessons — all the time. Even if we know tons already, stay a learner. The fact of the matter is that the only one who knows everything about equines and their structure and colors and patterns — and all the possibilities and potentials — is Nature itself, and it always has the last word. So let that need go. Just let it go. It does nothing but shut us off from potential. In contrast, staying a learner keeps pace with Nature though quite a few strides back. But that’s good, right? Otherwise, there’d be nothing new to learn! Staying a learner also accepts that failure is a part of the process and so contains within it the power to make strategic decisions that will clear new paths for us. Anyway, point being what we tie our ego onto will pre-determine our outcome, even our entire life, so try to more consciously direct it to things that serve our goals better than simply blindly following it. On that note, also try not to ego-shame others. We’re all our own journey of self-discovery through our art, and their art hasn’t gotten to that lesson yet. Instead then, try to show compassion as a guide when possible so they can eventually release themselves from the grasping clutches of a misdirected ego. But they have to come to it on their own terms so let them walk that path in their own way.

Also try to embrace this reality: Artistic confidence isn’t an end-all outcome, that once we have it, we’ll be creating amazing work. That’s not how it works. Rather, confidence is a tool, a way, a practice we use to keep us going through our mistakes and detours. It’s our foundation that shores us up when it all comes crashing down. Really, if we have a solid foundation, we just rebuild, right? Confidence is also our foundation for education and exploration because with it, we can let go of old information to make room for the new, we can evolve without fearful reactions. In other words, confidence helps us to manage our fears so much better by not only counterbalancing them outright, but by helping us manage our fear-driven outbursts because despite it all, we’re all going to have periodic outbursts, we’re human. In this, confidence will help us straighten up, take a deep breath, lock our eyes on the prize, and take one more step forwards. Smoosh it all together then, it’s through confidence we build competence and through competence we achieve our goals. How do we build confidence then? We do the work. We work on working. And ruminate on all the points discussed in this blog series because, in all honestly, it’s really about how to build our artistic confidence even in the presence of bitter demons who try to break it apart. So deep breath, now…

With that, think about this: When your brain tells you to give up, when you’ve had enough and want to quit, I want you to do just one thing. Just one. Try one more time. Breakthroughs do happen, miracles can happen, enlightenment will happen…with one more time. I know what it’s like, truly I do. In fact, Stormwatch was almost scrapped for just this reason and had I not tried one more time, he would’t exist. So deep breath and just one more time.

Let’s end Part III here. We’ll come back in Part IV with more coping insights and observations that can help us compartmentalize these struggles in a way that can actually turn the negatives into positives. So until next time…straighten up, breath deep, eyes forward, and happy slaying!

“Creativity takes courage.” ~ Henri Matisse

Demonslaying 101 Part III

Demonslaying 101 Part II

 

We’re back with Part II of Demon Slaying 101, a discussion about our internal battles when we create our art. In particular, we have to wrestle with three especially nasty demons — imposter syndrome, negative bias, and self-doubt. These three are so strong, in fact, that they may also be the root of many other psychological blocks that can tarnish our creativity. In this Part II then we’ll start our discussion with some insights on all this to better cultivate and preserve our joy and confidence despite them. So let’s dive right in!…

To begin with, it’s helpful to remind ourselves that negative bias is a big trigger because once we recognize that it’s an instinctive hardwired reflex designed to spin, we can talk ourselves down. Because — hey — if it’s a prejudiced filter, there’s a lot being scooped out…all the good stuff! For example, take heart in the fact that for every jerky or careless comment, there are many others who are supportive, thoughtful, and encouraging (even if they don’t speak up), so focus on them instead and trust that they’re there. Put more energy into those who are generous and encouraging — we have to work at it, mind you — and let the rest fall away. Remind ourselves, too, that it’s just the noise associated with those who find more joy in tearing someone down or want to feel self-important than in truly wanting to understand and appreciate our efforts. Some people are just careless, thoughtless, or mean, or just derive their life force from negativity. Let’s be frank, too, there’s a lot of self-important, boorish, insensitive clods out there who just don’t care. Everyone sees a piece of art differently, too, and in our genre, that’s a loaded question because of all the technicalities involved. Really, not everyone’s knowledge base is more fully informed or objective, or even open to the unconventional aspects of reality. Their priorities and goals may be different from ours, too. So work to focus on the positive encouragement more deliberately and enthusiastically, exercise gratitude and remind ourselves that not everyone has our same creative sensibilities — and that’s okay — and try to find some peace in that.

Remember that everyone has to deal with negative bias in their own reality. That’s to say many folks shred work because they’re fundamentally unaware this hardwired tendency is compelling them to fixate on the perceived negatives rather than step back, take a breath, and re-evaluate the reality of a piece with more objective, informed, or compassionate eyes. What’s more, the negatives in their lives — we don’t know what emotional and psychological struggles they’re enduring — can compel them to displace that anguish onto others. Indeed, some people’s pain morphs into ugly behavior that’s spewed all over the place, particularly on those who are easy targets like artists. In a sense then, they’re victims of their own wiring and in being so, victimize others.

Consider the source. Is negative input coming from those we admire and trust? Is it coming from others whose goals and priorities align with ours? Are they our collectors or those who have no vested interest in our work? Are they coming from someone notorious for being obnoxious, callous, or careless? All this will tell us how much those opinions are actually worth. And if they aren’t worthwhile, we’re going to have to work a little bit to remind ourselves that…repeatedly. If we have doubts anyway as a result — which is normal — seek advice from trusted friends or colleagues, or do some pro-active research to dig into the matter of things. Find a way to ease those introduced doubts either through more facts or the ability to recognize that, again, not everyone has our best interests at heart or is savvy enough with either their knowledge or social skills.

Try to work on developing a “devil may care” attitude by realizing five things. First, that we’re truly into arting for our own enjoyment and the enrichment of our own Voice, experience, and inspirations. To create for the validation of others is only begging for those demons to shriek even louder. Second, we’ll never please everyone. No matter how we try or how many critiques we input, not everyone is going to like our work, and that’s fine. Beauty is in the eye of the beholder and folks are entitled to their tastes. This also makes sure that many styles have a place in our niche by appealing to all those different tastes, so it’s really a positive. Just remember there’s really only one person to please — ourselves. Third, conversely, know that there’s always — always — someone out there who loves our work like nobody’s business. Keep our focus on them, not to have an echo chamber, but to help counterbalance our distracting demons. Fourth, there’s always “that guy” in every crowd. No matter how we curate our social media or our social interactions, there’s always going to be a clanging note at some point, some person who just cannot be thoughtful, careful, or sensitive with our efforts and feelings, or respectful of the bravery it takes to even present our work to the public in the first place. And fifth, the truth is — believe it or not — our work is better than we think and more people love it than we suspect. So trust in that seemingly unlikely scenario knowing that our demons are always working to convince us otherwise.

Another way to transform the negative to the positive is to turn every “failure” into a learning experience. In many ways, this is a choice — we have to decide to morph the situation with every single piece, and especially with those that wind up in the middle of a disappointment. Yet make it a habit and we become better artists as well as better people. Really, if we can find the lesson in every outcome, we can regain our footing pretty quickly. We can also come to better appreciate the realities of other artists to develop more camaraderie in a shared experience. And that applies to ourselves, too! Be gentle with our own heart, extend that same compassion to ourselves as we would to others.

In line with that, it’s helpful to recognize that artistic evolution can usher in a particularly crushing brand of self-doubt as a side effect. Or said another way, artistic evolution can be camouflaged by self-doubt and if we aren’t obsessively dedicated to slogging through it, we’re going to make the mistake of quitting. That’s because sometimes certain pieces come into our inspiration with lessons for us, lessons so pivotal they promise to change the way we do things forever — only we don’t know it yet. If we have a hard time absorbing those lessons and especially if we fight them, however, we’re in for a world of hurt in the doubt department. For example, if we have interpretive habits that look right to us but our piece’s references show us that they’re wrong, a major shift has to happen. But it doesn’t usually happen so easily since our piece will try to yank us forwards only we’re stuck where we are. Being so, pressure and friction will build up like between tectonic plates, often making this situation an excruciatingly frustrating, confusing, and anxiety-ridden kind of smackdown. What are some symptoms? Trying to get something right and either continually screwing it up or always coming up short. Re-doing areas but we keep sliding back into our habits despite our best efforts otherwise. Being completely inspired by our concept, yet perpetually “not feeling” what we’re doing. Creating in a very uncomfortable “space” because this new thing we’re doing just seems so wrong. Sculpting or painting the area accurately in form, but it’s somehow flawed like being skewed off proper placement, out of scale, or angled improperly — we’re “halfway there” but not at home base yet. And all this? Maddening as all get out! Even paralyzing. Truthfully, the grind of self-doubt this generates can be so powerful and dangerous, it can even drag us to the notion of quitting outright because we start to believe that we’ve permanently plateaued or, worse, that we’ve lost our abilities, talents, or our muse. And there are few things that can destroy joy in a passionate artist faster than the belief we’ve gone as far as we can go in our abilities. However, if we can remind ourselves that this situation isn’t a lack of talent or the wall of a plateau, that we’re on the cusp of an evolution, we can get the upper hand here. So gut it out. Keep trying! Even if we want to bang our head on wall. We have to give our mind, hand, Eye, and skills the time, practice, and opportunity to finally all click into place and learn the lesson. And remember, we have to make those mistakes to learn! Then lemme tell ya, when that shift happens, it’s like an ecstatic tectonic jolt, an artistic earthquake, and nothing will ever be the same again. But trust that it’ll happen — trust yourself, trust the moment, trust the opportunity the piece presents. Evolution will come, but only if we’re engaging our process.

Without a doubt, the more established and successful an artist becomes, the more pronounced the pressure on ourselves and so the greater the weight of failures. There’s just so much expectation piled on a successful artist to keep topping themselves! Yet artists need the room, the safe zone to go back and forth, to hit or miss, to stretch and snap back. But if the audience keeps expecting an artist to just keep going up up up, at some point they’re going to kill the golden goose by psychologically paralyzing them. We can’t back a creative mind into a corner of expectation! Remember they’re heaping mountains of expectations on themselves already, too! Instead, give them the complete freedom to explore, risk, fail, learn, grow, discover, and just chillax in their work. Let them have their creative space. Honestly, art is best when it’s based on freedom to some degree and, similarly, experimentation and exploration inject a sense of adventure into it all. It does an artist good then to focus on that rather than living in a pressure cooker of public expectation. Never forget to have fun, first and foremost!

Making art isn’t only hard, it can hurt. Disappointments, resentments, envy, frustrations, regrets, embarrassments, anxieties, anger, and any number of other negatives can tarnish our creative experience. Indeed, some artists stop outright because of it. So try to always remember the driving reasons why we make art — the meaning, the joy, the inspiration, the satisfaction, the thrill, the exploration, the peace of the soul. Whatever it is, hold onto it very closely and lean into it if things start to go haywire. It can be our rock for weathering a storm or a jumpstart to prime the pump after a dry spell.

Toxic positivity is a thing just as there’s toxic negativity. It’s nice to say that the ideal condition then is in the middle, but honestly, that’s a rather milquetoast place, a flatline that can leave us too satisfied and content. Really, it’s not such a bad thing for an artist to stay a little shook because it keeps us hungry and more objective. Now everyone is different, but for me the ideal place is just offset from center towards the positive — by choice. Because it takes work and we may have to actively remind ourselves when we backslide. Even if we have to speak it aloud or getting it down in a journal, reinforcing our efforts with positive affirmations can go far to making this continual choice easier and easier, too.

We have to accept that we may be doing something no one will care about, that will never find reward, or at least to the degree we hope it will. It’s always an uncertainty and to be frank, there’s rarely rhyme or reason as to what the audience gravitates towards one minute to the next; it likes what it likes at that moment, and that’s that. We should just keep at it though and create for our own reasons. And that’s actually a pretty freeing place to create when ya think about it! Also consider marketing strategies as they may be sabotaging our efforts for exposure. Who knows — it may be time for a solid social media and advertising campaign! On that note, don’t put too much credence into any single win or loss. There are plenty of enormously talented artists who don’t place or get juried into a show, and it just happens to be our day. Really, thinking about it, with all the quality out there today, those planets have to align in a pretty crazy way for any piece to place! Yeah, we could make placings based almost solely on quality alone in the past — not so today. Today the quality is so consistent and extraordinary, it comes down to other things, things that can rely heavily on the moment and mercurial tastes, or the knowledge strengths or gaps of the judge. Today there are truly those pieces that are of equal quality.

So we’ll end Part II here and in Part III then, we’ll continue our discussion on such things. Being able to openly discuss these issues is important to learn new coping insights from others and to raise awareness. Our demons only have as much power as we’re willing to give them, and with new ways of manipulating them, we can deny them quite a bit of it!

“The greater the artist, the greater the doubt. Perfect confidence is granted to the less talented as a consolation prize.” ~ Robert Hughes

Demonslaying 101 Part II

Demonslaying 101 Part I

 

Being an artist is a blessing, a true joy! So inspired, each piece expresses the love, delight, and dedication that buoyantly sweeps an artist through the creative process. But it isn’t easy. We have learning curves to master, a stream of challenges to tackle, big ambitions to chase, walking the tightrope of public opinion and treatment, and a host of other factors that can make an otherwise average day a tricky dance. Yet there’s a darker side to arting, one that beats down from inside that’s hardly ever talked about in the arts community. Why? Well, traditionally there been far more fixation on romantic notions of creative fulfillment, the journey of self-discovery, and the mystery of inspiration angle in the larger arts community than it has been about the actual reality of making art. So to gloss things over, whatever dark realities are involved become wrapped up in the artistic mystique as though this kind of pathos was something to be glamorized, even turned into a curiosity of The Grand Artistic Struggle.

That being the case, the public has this skewed impression that arting is this life-fulfilling dreamland of satisfied full expression of ourselves. That it’s fundamentally one of deep personal meaning and fulfillment full of rainbows and blue skies. And — yes — all that is positively true! Absolutely, it’s very much that, and one of the primary things that keeps many creatives going. But “full expression of ourselves” means exactly that and that’s a problem. How so? Every artist I’ve ever met has their own unseen demons they battle, their own invisible torments that put the creative act on a precarious ledge. Sometimes, one tip in the wrong direction can even bring that drive to a full stop. Yet we don’t hear of this spoken of enough in art from an everyday, practical standpoint, do we? Rather, we’ve all heard of the sentimentalized “suffering artist,” right? And maybe that’s true, but even so, the actual living-through-it is anything but romantic, anything but glamorous. It can be demoralizing, paralyzing, depressing, and traumatizing. And at times it can turn arting into one of the hardest things we’ve ever done. 

We need to talk about this in a down to earth way because artists should know that their experience isn’t unique, that many artists are touched by this dynamic at some point in some way — and some all the time. They also need to know it’s not something that should be suffered in silence because its power can be mediated through a support network of shared struggles. Yet while each artist has demons unique to them, there are three in particular that are pretty consistent that could even be the root cause of all the rest perhaps because they speak so deeply to the kernels of our self-worth and sense of purpose and meaning. So what are these demons? They are imposter syndrome, negative bias, and the behemoth itself, self-doubt. At some point, they’re going to show up at our party and once they do, that’s it — they’ll never leave. Oh, we can shut them in a room and close the door, but they can yell quite loudly and pound on that door like a storm, becoming pesky voices in our heads spewing a stream of negatives to make our experience more difficult, sometimes impossible. Being so, artists usually find ways to live with them through myriad coping mechanisms to find some measure of peace. Because wow — once they start, they do not shut up! And they don’t care how successful or popular our work is either — they’ll just crash our party all the same. Truly, it might surprise many people to know that their favorite artists may really be struggling and that their creativity may hang by an unseen thread at times. Indeed, for me, these demons showed up early and entrenched themselves in my living room, becoming bigger and louder as the years rolled by, igniting into screaming fits with each success. Especially self-doubt — wow. They’re like this terrible pushback of equal force that muffles each high point, almost ruining it completely. And believe me when I say there are plenty more in my boat with these jerks. So if we’re finding ourselves sailing those rough seas, know that we’re surrounded by a flotilla of kindred spirits who know all too well these waters. 

So let’s talk about them. It’s important to acknowledge that there’s far more to arting than simply smearing clay and pigment around, and learning curves and inspiration, and some grand quest of self-fulfillment. Those are awesome, of course, but it’s also helpful to more fully understand this dark side of creativity because based on some comments I heard on Facebook, it’s like an undercurrent affecting some of our artists. And the problem may be far more pervasive than we think because here’s the thing: These demons draw their power from two sources, from inside the artist and from their circumstances to attack on two fronts. So as the stakes ramp up in our genre, this feeds that pre-existing internal dialogue to form an emotional gale few little boats can navigate well enough. Altogether then, this negative miasma can affect our want to make art at all or even compromise our enthusiasm for this activity. 

To add more wind to the waves — because yes, there’s more — our particular niche is highly demanding, isn’t it? It’s a brutal technical taskmaster that’s not only ready but actually eager to pot-shot anyone who pulls up just a little short. Sure, we can tell ourselves, “I’ll just try harder next time,” but that only works for so long before our frustrations, confusions, exasperations, and insecurities start spilling over to flood our coping mechanisms. And truly, there will come a time when they won’t work anymore because they ignore that our art niche is a real challenge for the typical artistic mind. Honestly, any artist who works happily in our genre with any sense of self-preservation is probably equally adept in their coping mechanisms as they are in their skills! Because think about it — we have creatives who are already battling their inner demons now plunked right in the middle of a take-no-prisoners art form which is wrapped up in competitive comparison in a cacophony of voices, many of them conflicting, thoughtless, even callous. In my 30+ years of doing this, it honestly still amazes me that any artist sticks around at all. No wonder so many artists throw up walls! What we need is awareness to develop a landscape better able to help its artists beat back their own internal onslaughts and in so doing, better foster an explosion of bold new work from a more nurtured creative base. So let’s drag these three suckers out and take a good, hard look at them square in the eyes…

Let’s start with imposter syndrome. This is the belief that our skills are to be doubted and played down because we feel like a fraud, like our skills really aren’t all that so we really don’t deserve the kudos. Because — hey — only we know the accidental nature of some of our work so aren’t we just going through the motions of being an artist? Don’t real artists know exactly what they’re doing and so are entitled to feeling confident and good in their work? Really, aren’t we just a total wannabe? And gosh we struggle with our art — it’s hard and often confusing — yet all these real artists do it so easily and confidently which only proves we don’t have that magical ingredient for making real art let alone good art. Then when our art isn’t going over as well as we’d hoped or the arting process becomes difficult at times, all that amplifies the idea that really gifted artists don’t have these problems which is all the more proof that we aren’t a real artist and definitely not a talented one. Heck, we don’t know all the technical terms for anatomy or the color and patterns, but real artists know all that stuff completely, right? What an internal onslaught! And while this syndrome is especially strong in high-achieving people, it will happily torment any thoughtful soul who finds success in their field to make them dangerously self-conscious about their arting. Honestly, this demon will bust down our door, park its hinder in our favorite chair, eat all our chips, and just start mouthing off. And the more successful we become, the bigger it can grow to fill our creativity with anxiety, trepidation, and hesitation. Sadly, I’ve known a couple of artists who become heartbreakingly anxious when even given a compliment on their work! So highly effective at all this then, imposter syndrome can be devastating. For instance, it can lead to self-disdain in our worth, talents, and goals, making an artist afraid of, even disgusted in, their own abilities, dreams, and inspirations as well as suspicious of and shying from the accolades they rightfully earn. A terrible place to be for sure. It can also prime them to put too much crippling weight on mercurial public opinion for validation, an even worse place to be. Mash all that up and we have a miserable psychological landscape for arting yet it’s one some artists endure unspoken on a daily basis. 

We now come to imposter syndrome’s older sibling, negative bias. There’s a belief in psychology that humans are wired for negativity, perhaps as a byproduct of evolution. Think about it: It was the negatives in our lives that could hurt us. Subsequently, we may be predisposed to respond to negative stimuli much more readily and to dwell on it stronger and longer, and even at the expense of the positives, known as “positive-negative asymmetry.” Quite literally, we feel the pain of a failure or rebuke more strongly than the elation of a success or compliment, sometimes much more. There can be a lot more pain than pleasure in our creativity at times then, a lot more anxiety than elation. So here’s the thing — this demon has always been at our party only we just never saw it for what it was even as it grew to monstrous proportions scarfing down our fancy appetizers, wiping its hands in our couch, and prosecuting us with our every imagined misstep. It’ll also cause us to overthink the negatives and become riveted to them as they become absurdly amplified in our reality. Thinking about it then, negative bias could be precisely why we can receive an enthusiastic stream of “HUZZAHS!” yet it’s that one negative comment our brains will replay in our heads like a never ending grating gear. It’s also probably why artists tend to fixate on the perceived flaws in their work to gloss over, even ignore, the good points. And lemme tell ya — this single phenomenon can be so catastrophic it can even cause an artist to anticipate the negatives so they recoil even before they begin! Honestly, at some point, in some way to some degree, it’s going to back every artist into a corner and we have to fight ourselves out. Yet even if we’re successful at that, all we’ve done is learn to live with it, becoming a painful bruise we always wear. But gosh — we get good at hiding it, don’t we? Know it or not, every artist has scrapes and scars they hide, testaments to private battles they’ve won or lost, and are still fighting. I don’t know of a single artist ever unscathed, yet much of this brutality can come from within, behind our own defenses. Truth be told, setting up frontlines to deflect the mortar shells lobbed by others is a walk in the park compared to digging trenches in our own psyches against ourselves. In our genre, in particular, where the shrillness of “perfection” finds amplification to eleven and where “failure” can be met with casual cruelty, this war in our psyche has these two fronts at full engagement. Is it any wonder then why our community can be so exhausting for many creatives? (Add this to an artist’s tendency towards sensitivity and we have another layer to the problem. We talk about this in Pickled Art.) 

And finally we come to the mother of all arting demons — self doubt. This demon won’t just bust into our party, it’ll envelop our entire house in a bubble of negativity to poison everything in our experience. It spills everything all over our carpet, punches holes in our walls, and devours all our hot dishes. It has a power all its own, but also amplifies imposter syndrome and negative bias to boot. What’s the result? A cascade of lasting self-destructive convictions that pelt the artist like a gatling gun from within. In this, self-doubt can also henpeck us as we work, nitpicking every decision and swipe of our tool in this needling barrage of self-punishment. As such, this demon will take that well of insecurity each of us carry and barrage us with the notion we’re really just fooling ourselves, we’re delusional in our belief that we have talent and that what we're doing is good and worthwhile. In this way, it’ll even take the successes of other artists to beat us with them as proof of our actual ineptitude, trying to pop our balloon. Oh, but it doesn’t end there! It’ll go on to cram all our past work in our face as proof of our incompetence, yelling in our ear, “See — your work was always junk only you were too lame to realize it, just like you are right now!” Self-doubt is also the source of the belief that our work just isn’t appreciated or acknowledged, or even will be ridiculed or criticized, or worse, that the failures we’ve suffered are inevitabilities, and any number of defeatist thoughts. Now add in our highly technical and demanding art form, and we have a 100% intimidation factor! In this way, self-doubt can cause an artist to hesitate and hold back, to exercise too much caution when none is warranted, when even their genuine growth is hampered by this restraint. It’ll also cause an artist to lose joy in their efforts as its toxic brew pollutes every creative impulse, making arting that much harder to even do in the first place. Honestly, self-doubt can defeat an artist even before they begin, becoming a crushing, soul-smashing and joy-killing psychological smother, capable of snuffing out the creative drive altogether. And here’s the thing — one can be highly successful, yet still wrestle with self-doubt. This demon doesn’t care how popular we are, how well regarded our work is, or how many awards we’ve won. Those things simply don’t matter to it. It’ll cause us to feel apprehensive all the same, becoming that persistent awful voice in our heads the feeds our unease, self-disdain, and self-distrust. In short then, self-doubt is the dark shadow to every creative endeavor and so every artist will grapple with it throughout their career in some form. To be blunt then, sometimes the most marvelous thing an artist can do is to just keep going.

“I don't believe anyone ever suspects how completely unsure I am of my work and myself and what tortures of self-doubting the doubt of others has always given me.” ~ Tennessee Williams

So what does all this distill down to? Fear. It’s fear that lies at the heart of all our struggles, our enemy and the true agitator of our demons. And that fear takes many forms, custom-made for each of our own anxieties, each targeting a demon intent on tormenting us. Yet perhaps all these fears can in turn be summed up into one thing, right? Fear of the outcome. Can we do this? Will this turn out as well as we hope? Will it meet with applause or indifference, or worse, ridicule and contempt? It’s so odd that the one thing we yearn for — the brilliant completion of a new piece — would entail so much fear wrapped up into it, too. Whether we acknowledge it or not then, so much courage and pugnaciousness goes into every new attempt, each new start like our own psychological mini-Everest, our art is both the cause and the cure of our anxiety. One could call it a self-destructive vicious cycle if so much love and joy wasn’t involved.

“I fight pain, anxiety, and fear every day, and the only method I have found that relieves my illness is to keep creating art.” ~ Yayoi Kusama

So if we could somehow manage and redirect our fear, perhaps even dampen it, maybe then we can dampen our demons, too? The good news is — yes! Yes, these things can be managed and manipulated to better poise us for success in spite of it all given some tactics and insights. Let’s explore some of those then in this six-part series, starting with Part II. So until then…keep climbing that Everest!

“Making art can feel dangerous and revealing. Making art is dangerous and revealing. Making art precipitates self-doubt, stirring deep waters that lay between what you know you should be, and what you fear you might be.” ~ David Bayles

Demonslaying 101 Part I