Okay but what if things work out?
On being equally terrified of success as I am of failure.
I am equally terrified of success as I am of failure.
I have anxiety around being truly seen as an artist — and therefore judged. What if my artwork isn’t good enough? Or worse, what if it IS good enough and people end up taking me seriously? What if I can’t meet their expectations in my next endeavor? What then?
*insert panic here*
I am pulling a thread, watching a tapestry of imposter syndrome and self doubt unravel in front of my eyes. Some threads loosen while others remain, begging me to dig in with the tips of my fingers and pry it all loose.
Nobody tells you what a creative career requires when you’re in school, teaching you color theory but not how to price a painting or pitch work to a gallery.
Nobody tells you what it will be like, putting your artwork out into the world as an anxious twenty-something, hoping people will come by your booth at your first market or subscribe to your email list that currently consists of your immediate family.
Nobody tells you how self-conscious you’ll feel, inviting strangers into the depths of your thoughts and feelings as you explain the meaning behind a painting you made. I mean, will they even give a shit?
But here you are — and I am too — doing the damn thing, leaving a hundred mistakes among a hundred successes in our wake. And it’s terrifying!
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This knot is taking some work, and my fingers are tired:
What if a successful idea redefines my work in a way that feels creatively limiting?
You may be asking, “But how can success be limiting? Doesn’t success mean more opportunities and a growing career?”
You’re right, it does! And it also brings anxiety-driven narratives about how others expect to see my work show up in the world as well as the implicit judgment that is passed if I adhere to those expectations or break them. Eek!
When you start to be known for something as an artist (a particular medium, certain motifs, a color palette, etc.), it can be daunting to branch out. You’ve worked so hard to establish an audience who clearly likes what you’re doing, and adding anything new to the mix is a risk! Some folks might latch on, loving any stage of exploration you’re in, while others may decide the new direction isn’t for them and leave your orbit.
Internalizing the idea that success only furthers that risk is easy to do, and I do it often. Suddenly success in being known for a project or a style of work doesn’t open doors, it closes them. Instead of feeling freer because of the stability in success, it can feel like one wrong move is the difference from this being a repeatable experience and the last bit of success you ever encounter.
How does one work sustainably in their creative career with repeated successes while maintaining a sense of freedom in discovery and experimentation?
Maybe there’s no answer to this one other than to show up, show up, show up.
I feel like I’m a cute little egg1 in an incubator this season.
I have a LOT of new ideas but feel paralyzed by the idea of attempting to translate them into the physical realm. I am envisioning work that feels more personal than anything I’ve ever made; more emotive, more intentional, and more layered. I am writing about it, thinking about it constantly, and having conversations with my friends and creative peers about it.
I want to explore the feminine themes to a degree I haven’t accessed in my work thus far. I want my work to be more a part of my personal identity than its ever been and to advocate proudly for it. But I’m also scared that with a turning point looming in my vision comes the perception of external expectation and the difficulty of un-telling of those stories within my own head.
I can’t keep treading water in the studio. This egg will crack open one way or another, either by my willing it to do so or by the sheer financial requirement that I continue to make new work (which means inevitably its creation is stunted by that pressure to make money — never a good thing).
So here’s to navigating whatever comes as I reach for these new ideas and pull them out of my dream world and into this one; to digging deeper into my creativity; to letting go of perceived expectation; to finding myself in my art again, regardless of external validation.
After all, the real success is in being brave enough to show up.
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Obviously the only type of egg worth being.
Feels like I’m reading my own internal thoughts. Which is oddly comforting. Starting a fresh a new / old direction de-coupling from my name (which is attached to more commercial endeavours. Following along on this path with you.
You’re the cutest little egg