?
Why do I spend time creating things – writing, painting pictures, arranging a collage? Sometimes I think I am wasting my time. My work seems mediocre compared to others, even inferior. Should I be doing something “more worthwhile?” These are questions I’ve been asking myself lately. I wonder if other artists have the same doubts, yet keep on going. I want to fight my fears. I want to keep creating, but I don’t know why.
I started thinking about a recent experience I had at a painting workshop with the artist Cheng-Khee-Chee. Cheng-Khee told us that he was always trying to paint “the perfect painting.” He said that he knew that that was not possible, but with each new painting, he always tried. I wondered, is this the nature of an artist — to strive for perfection, despite the fact that you never quite get there?
I noticed traits in myself that were not specific to creativity – feelings of inadequacy, self-doubt, and envy. Perhaps it is because creating is so personal — the creation is so much an extension of yourself — that you run the risk of attributing your own value to it. When you like it, you feel pleasure, pride, self-worth — your time is well spent. On the other hand, if the result is a “failure,” you may think, “How could I have created such an embarrassing mess? I have wasted all this time on this failure – I may as well just quit. I am not a good artist.”
At this point, I was reminded of Dr. Phil, who tells his audience that “reality” is not as important as “perception.” In other words, how could I better perceive my failures? In my head I knew that becoming good at something required much practice. Learning requires discomfort, mistakes, and failures. Instead of dreading discomfort, mistakes, and failures, I could welcome them as signs of growth. I could focus on the positive successes and use them as capital — encouragement for “dry spells.”
Success can also be relative. I am often surprised at people’s differences in taste and appreciation for art and writing – how unpredictable and varied. A piece can be rejected in one situation but receive accolades in another. How incredibly wonderful! It would seem good for each artist to remember that if he or she likes it, there is someone else in this world who can relate to it and enjoy it too.
Recently I attended a concert with a band that had been popular in the 80’s. Many of their most famous band members had left to play with other more popular bands. Only a couple original band members remained. They were older, and I began to wonder why they would continue to tour and play. They had not been one of the most popular bands, even in their prime. Of course, for them, there was the money, their livelihood. But when I saw the enthusiastic reaction of the crowd — how they swayed, clapped to the beat, and mouthed the words to the old songs, I began to understand. Both the people and the band were excited and happy to be there. The band’s past successes had carried them to this place, where they could continue to get and give pleasure and have fun. Both were devoted.
Why do artists spend time doing their work? Perhaps for them – for us — creating is not a choice. If left alone for too long, we miss it. There is something lacking in our lives without it. We have successes as we learn and grow. Others enjoy and appreciate our work, even though it is not “perfect.” Art requires devotion and time — time that passes without notice – like play.
By Donna Rice