What it is to be an artist – my tiny point of view

            To be an artist is to suffer. To be an artist is to feel all the emotions in one single solitary gasp. To be an artist is to upheave your whole family to move 1,500 miles away just because “the trees were pretty” (it was worth it). It’s ridiculous.

I do art in secret, in the dark and it has only been recently that I have shared and to my amazement and awe, it has been received well. So well in fact I won some awards and even created album art for a band that seems to be doing so well in fact they’re on the radio. So why is it that I still feel this shadow of imposter syndrome. If I could go back and tell young me where I would end up in my life, there is no way I’d believe myself.

See, as artist, that’s our job. To overthink and to hyper fixate on whatever has us enthralled at the moment. We are so self-aware that it hurts, maybe that’s just me but I doubt it. We see our self-titled flaws in 10x zoom. Any other eyeball and brain would see it as something beautiful but we see a missed line, a smudge mark that got though, a not dark enough light or a dull highlight and see it as garbage.

Yes, I know sometimes it’s good to be self-critical, it’s how we grow and stay considerate to those around you but where is the fucking line?? It has been so blurred, I’m lost. I guess now I have a clean slate and that might be even more terrifying. There is no gentle guide from a nice teacher, give me an apple and send me on my way. I now have to face the harsh reality of the world in my mid 30’s. Goody! How fun…

This self-discovery journey is not for the weak of heart. To look at yourself and force compassionate thoughts to the owner of the eyes staring back at you when all you’ve been taught is to be judgmental.

I say fuck this idea where we are mean to ourselves and therefore mean to others. Fuck giving a fuck. I have nothing to fear, I have walked in the dark and I am not scared anymore. I try so hard not to look like an idiot that I end up false to myself all to keep from upsetting others. Lets just make the art, talk about my feelings and how I used them creatively, and any other spiritic tangents I find myself going down.  

There was a point in my life when I reached a low that was life changingly terrifying. I decided to be my own savior and help myself for once. I didn’t know you could do that. I always thought a beautiful white knight would come in and rescue me. Sweep me off my feet, hold me tightly on his steed and carry me off into the sunset where we’d live happily ever after. HA! In what world does that happen? The fantasies were lying. You must heal yourself before the prince can sweep you off your feet. Hell, maybe there’s not even a prince and you sweep yourself off your own feet! My next part of my healing, I feel, is to take up some damn space, to finally sweep myself off my own feet.

Try to be bad at doing something you’re passionate about, it’s hard, isn’t it? When your passion turns into obsession is when you’re truly screwed. Who cares how good you are? Who cares what you do next as long as you can sleep at night. The dishes will be there later, go paint. Obsession turns into a waste of your creative energy, it’s really avoidance that is stopping you. I’m really talking about myself; I do all of this, and I write like I don’t. they say write what you know, and I know how to avoid. Avoiding is my armor that I put on when I am scared to even try. It is the shadow in my ear saying, “you’re not good enough, don’t even try”. Again, I say fuck it. Do the bad art. Loosen up, we are all going to die and be forgotten anyway; what a soothing feeling.

I don’t even know my point anymore. I just get tired of always trying to live up to my own expectation of myself. I want to try to find love and acceptance for myself and through that find my voice in my art. What am I even trying to say?? What IS my message? I dunno… 

Let’s get over being the judgmental artist together. You, me, and the cold dark internet. It’ll be so much fun.