Trust in Your Creative Self and Enjoy the Journey

Practice What I Preach:

I published a book called "Creative Sanity: Where Art Meets Presence" about two years ago, in which I discuss the benefits of losing yourself in a creative space, where making things empowers the reader to find the self through artistic activity. It was a two-year project involving 27 artists from ten different countries who shared their mental states while creating art. It has yet to make the New York Times best seller list, but I lived by one principle while writing, designing, collaborating with artists from all over the world, and publishing the book: lose yourself in the process of creation to discover yourself. But then the project's selling phase began, and the narrative shifted. It had to sell in order to be considered 'good.'

That's when I deviated from the path outlined by "Creative Sanity." The desire for recognition, for acceptance, quickly shifted my focus away from the process of writing a meaningful book and toward the sale of the product. That massive shift in priority then permeated everything I was painting and designing. It's an easy trap to fall into. The reasoning was straightforward. I sought validation from a community and system that rewarded hard work in the same way that all economic systems do: with money. While approval from my friend and family circle is simple, getting noticed by the art market presents a new and frightening set of challenges. While hoping for the approval of a new, more sophisticated audience that would hopefully pay me for my efforts, my process had changed. The goalpost had shifted from 'art for the sake of art' to 'art for the sake of money,' and the works suffered as a result.

The Journey That Leads to Questions:

The desire to monetize my technical abilities as a painter and graphic designer has been a long journey. The idea of being a good enough artist to make money has always been in the back of my mind. I'd sold a few paintings here and there, but I didn't know enough about the business of fine art to launch a focused offensive and develop a market for my work. So, about a year ago, I sought the advice of Rose Fredrick, an expert in the art business, to help me identify a'sellable' style of painting and then find a market for whatever it was I was planning to sell. Rose politely pointed out that I had a major problem: my work didn't have much to say. Technically, I'm quite adept with a brush. But none of that painting technique matters if the work lacks expression. I needed to find my true voice in paint. But herein lies the most difficult aspect of marketing one's own self-expression: are you, as an artist, effectively communicating what you're trying to say? There were a lot of unanswered questions about me, what I wanted to say, and who my target audience (if any) was for my work. Congratulations to my art instructor. She remained calm throughout my interrogation. She knew my questions were the result of inexperience and naivety.

Through five one hour sessions, Rose revealed just how ignorant I was about the market and amount of work required to succeed in its system of self promotion, stylistic trends, and work demands.  Clearly, I had a long uphill climb ahead of me. Confronting the realities of achieving my goal was challenging on many levels, not the least of which was self-actualization. What did I have to say about the world, and why should anyone bother listening to my observations and insights? I needed to discover and express my vision of what aesthetician Clive Bell refers to as the creation of significant form. Ideally, the forms I created would emerge from an authentic vision seen through the lens of a heartfelt desire to communicate, to express something that I felt would prompt viewers to see the world in a new light. My intention was for my paintings to move the viewer enough to delve deeper into their aesthetics and goals as an expressive form. But that's where I went wrong as an artist. I became so preoccupied with art market trends and shifting my style to whatever would sell that my style became lost in the distraction of making a sale. I was turning into exactly what my book warned against: a sellout.

Moving Beyond the ‘Nice’ Crowd:

I have nothing against money. We all require it for essential tasks such as eating. However, when it becomes the primary source of an artist's creative energy, the creativity becomes inauthentic and hollow. My attention had shifted to the product, leaving the joy of the creative process behind. My energies abruptly shifted and succumbed to a need for monetary compensation for validation. The nagging need for acceptance from people outside the family support system had driven my art to stale creative efforts. I wasn't creating art as a means of exploring my expressive voice. I made it in the hopes of pleasing people with money to spend. My coach told me to make 30 pieces of s*** in a short period of time in order to let go of my inhibitions and just paint with instinctual flow. This process initially brought an energy and joy to painting that I hadn't felt in a long time. However, the response to this work was, at best, muted. My family and friends did not recognize the painting as having any quality other than "nice." Just ask any artist. In an art-related conversation, the word nice is the safest bet. Nice represents the failure of an artwork in the eyes of the creator because nice implies that the work elicited no thought. It's not the fault of the viewer . Most people are unfamiliar with art and aesthetics. But it was the art and aesthetics crowd to whom I was attempting to appeal. The questions persisted. How do I get my work in front of the art community? And what will they enjoy enough to return for more?

Square One:

Creative exploration is a patience-testing learning game. I keep reminding myself that this is a never-ending process. There is still much to discover. For the time being, I'm clinging to the only constant in my life: working in the studio to solve a visual problem is one of life's true joys. The feelings of anticipation and discovery that occur during the painting process are uncommon in other settings. Losing those feelings in the studio while creating what others want will result in work that lacks the vibrancy and rhythms of paintings created in an authentic state of creative flow. Perhaps it's selfish, and it may not sell, but creating art to learn more about how I see reality and my place in it is the ultimate goal. If others find it valuable enough to pay for it, then welcome to my world! If not, I'll keep painting and discovering more about myself along the way.

*Clive Bell, Art (New York: Frederick A. Stokes, 1913) Click the link above for a free download of the book.