I’ve written about how to grow as an artist in the past, but as our skills grow, and our goals change, so do our requirements on how to get there. This evolution is good and it’s natural.
This is such a fascinating subject to me, because in retrospect, so many of the things that helped me grow are now obvious, yet as I lived through my journey it often felt like I was shooting in the dark.
How do we know we are doing enough? What is really helping us and what is hurting us?
In my last post about this topic, I went through several ways you can grow as an artist, and some of them were very condensed versions that were pretty straight forward. My goal in writing that post was to help someone who is just starting out, or an artist who feels stuck, to help navigate the sea of growth.
But there are so many things I didn’t mention, some of which are more emotional and conceptual. A lot of us go through some pretty heavy stuff as we figure out our journey.
So in this post I wanted to delve a little deeper into some things that are talked about less when we discuss artistic growth.
Often times, my overthinking leads me to some pretty dark places, like wishing I wasn’t an artist or that I didn’t even exist. But don’t worry, I am fully aware that it makes me feel those things, and I’m capable of stepping back and approaching it logically.
I know I’m not the only one, and I think it applies to way more people, not just artists. Oh, the joys of being hyper self aware!
Here are three things that help me through the really tough times where I feel totally stuck and I can’t move forward with my artistic growth.
#1: Define Your Goals. Again.
I still maintain that the first priority, and something you can do every year, is to sit down and define your goals.
My goals have changed every single year. Sometimes only a little, sometimes drastically.
But each goal needs a different set of skills, so there is value in keeping those goals freshly updated. Otherwise our daily practice might be taking us further from the goal.
Being confused is something I am very experienced in.
In the past, I have spent months working on certain projects and expending a tremendous amount of energy on things that were completely unnecessary. Yea, maybe they helped me grow a little in some way, but they actually took me further from my goals. At the time I was unaware, I was just doing what I thought I need to do. Only now can I look back with enlightened eyes and see my faults. But that’s life! We learn from our mistakes.
#2: Have a life (outside of art)
Being so introspective is exhausting and leads to frequent existential crises.
You know what I mean. Those moments where you are overthinking every single thing you do, to the point where you wonder why you do any of it at all. Eventually it leads to Why do we even exist?
In those moments I have learned to allow it, remind myself I’m only human just trying to live my best life, and ignore the bigger meaning. At least until I calm down.
Then I realize part of the problem is that I’ve become too focused, too introspective, too obsessed with defining and understanding every single thing I’m going through.
Art has a way of both pulling us out of ourselves and pushing us inwards.
I blame social media partly, because it requires us to define ourselves and put ourselves in little boxes stacked neatly in a grid. It leads to a lot of overthinking. But that’s a whole other topic.
Often times on those bad days, I’ll go to bed thinking there’s no point to any of it, but I’ll wake up with a renewed mind, ready for a new adventure. I then realize that in order to make art that matters, or do anything that matters at all, I have to live a life outside of my art.
If I think back to my happiest moments in life, they involve being with someone special, or being somewhere magnificent, or doing something thrilling, or eating something amazing (don’t judge).
So why do I put so much pressure on myself to make art that is more meaningful than my life?
That simply cannot be the goal. Art should* be a reflection of our experiences, or a catalyst to a new experience. It should not be the only thing.
And sometimes I let it be. Then before I know it, I’m stuck in the mud, staring at a blank canvas wishing I wasn’t even an artist at all just so the torture would end.
The solution? Have lots of experiences. Only then can we expect to create anything that truly matters to us. Only then will we have a real reason to make art.
(*I know it’s a dramatic definitive statement, but I’m just trying to make a point!)
Now, I know it’s easier said than done. For those of us with chronic anxiety, the thought of changing our routine can be excruciating. But I am a living witness that it does work. Even if you change one single thing each week. Do one new thing. Go to one new place. I learned first hand that it is extraordinarily liberating. Those shackles of “I can’t do this” fall away when we are experiencing something new.
My first choice? Go on a hike or a forest walk. That simple change in perspective, combined with being in nature is perfect.
#3: Happiness is a Moving Target
When I started painting with watercolor in 2016, I was absolutely determined to learn how to paint forests. I practiced every single day, struggled, had many tantrums, until finally I painted a forest that I considered to be “good.”
In that same exact moment, I realized I could do better, so I painted more forests, struggled, had more tantrums, and made more “good” paintings. Soon I realized that I stopped allowing myself to feel happy with my progress. I was simply reaching a goal, and realizing it wasn’t enough. My happiness was always just out of reach.
This is a lesson I must learn over and over. Because while I’m living it, I forget. I simply know that I am not happy. That I need to get better. That I need to work harder. Be smarter. That if I put just one more day of work in, I’ll finally reach my goal and be happy.
But will I?
Not if I don’t allow myself to be.
Something that helps break this cycle is to recognize when I’m actively pushing away my happiness. For instance, when I finish a painting, and think “next time I’ll use less water here, or more pigment there and it will be better.” I’ll stop myself and instead say “that was fun, this is great, I learned so much!” Giving myself a tiny pat on the back BEFORE I dive into the harsh critique is a tiny little change that adds up over time.
Even one small victory is better than an entire day of overthinking and disappointment.
So my friends, try to recognize those moments. We need to be gentle with ourselves. We need to be patient.
Let yourself have a moment of cheer, and remember that happiness is a choice.
“Tis nothing good or bad
But thinking makes it so.”
- William Shakespeare
I think choosing happiness is a skill that needs to be learned, and it takes practice.
So on days when I’m especially down, and have no desire to paint or feeling like I should give up art altogether, I think about this.
I can synthesize happiness.
My moving target - to make a good painting - is not impossible. In fact, it’s merely a choice to make, the same way I choose what shirt to put on in the morning.