Recently an old high school friend of mind found something that piqued my interest. She's a photographer, which in my book (as well as hers) counts as art if you have the heart for it. Anyway, she posted a picture on her Facebook that she felt applied to her.
"For the really bad days, for the days when you want to quit, when you feel like everything you do is shit, when you feel your self-esteem plummet, when you decide that you would rather wait tables for a living, when you start to think you will never make a living making art, when you are working on something and feel like you hate it more than you’ve ever hated anything in your life, when someone makes an offhand remark about your work and afterwards you feel dejected, when you wish you had gone to school for accounting, when you start to believe that maybe your family was right, when you want to lie in bed for a month and eat chips."As an artist, it kind of amazes me how I have just recently heard about her. As one of her primary topics is based on creativity, I certainly would've expected to read something from her by now to alleviate my writer's blocks (though if I actually have in the past is unknown - my memory's not so... what's that word you use that's the opposite of "bad?" =P). Memory loss issues aside, this "survival kit" is a pretty genius tool in my opinion, and I'm definitely going to print out a copy or two.
Anyway, onto Keri's list. I took one look at "How to Be Miserable as an Artist" and instantly agreed with what it said. While some artists would choose to disagree with her words here (some of them probably use these statements as driving guidelines or motivators instead), the beauty of these ten facets of artistic misery is that the interpretation can be open-ended - not everyone is going to hold the same responses and reactions as everyone else, and that's okay. However, for those that would agree with Keri Smith (and by extension, myself), these statements are a bit of an eye-opener for any artists whose minds are stranded in the middle of nowhere (and no, I don't mean the unincorporated community of Nowhere, Oklahoma).
After my first view of the list, I began to re-read it and see how I interpreted and analyze the ten statements on it. While my mind was screaming "write a paper on all of this," I figured that since I live in the United States of America - where nobody reads anymore - writing a paper for funsies would get me nowhere (as no scatterbrained
As I wrote and wrote, I began to realize that this list, while geared towards the artistically inclined, can also be seen as guidelines to life in general.
So without further ado, here's my interpretation of Keri's list.
How to Feel Miserable as an Artist
(Or: What not to do.)
1. Constantly compare yourself to other artists.
Amongst the many kinds of artists that inhabit the world, two kinds end up performing this common mistake:
- the budding artist wanting to do something big, and
- the (somewhat-)experienced artist who somehow developed an inferiority complex.
In the latter artist's case, they've already gotten some kind of recognition. They may already be a famous socialite or they may simply be known amongst the local community as "the guy/gal to go to when it comes to [insert art here]." Despite their level of fame, it doesn't seem to be at the level they're expecting themselves to be at. To question themselves on it, they look at the artists who inspired them when they were beginning their career.
Both artists inadvertently end up placing their work next to the works of their idol(s) in a side-by-side comparison. Any normal artist in this situation would find pros and cons of each side, find what makes each work stand out amongst its rival and appreciate the differences and similarities between the two - but not these two kinds of artists. For some reason they can only see what's "wrong" with their side and what's "great" about the other's.
In a way, this can be seen as living in someone else's shadow - always being rated as second-best and not possessing any courage to prove oneself worthy of the limelight. Comparing oneself to another is one thing, but allowing these comparisons to cloud your judgment and self-worth gives little to no opportunity of self-improvement.
2. Talk to your family about what you do and expect them to cheer you on.
Now, anyone who knows me well enough knows that I don't exactly get along with my biological family. When I looked at the list, I reinterpreted the word "family" to mean "anyone who holds some impact on your physical, emotional, and/or psychological life." This definition seems to work better in my opinion, because you can easily tell who could be considered family and who ranks amongst the top - the more of an impact a person holds, the more important they are to you. As such, it can be considered that my friends are my family. (Don't ask me where you rank; I'm not telling you.)
With that "definition" in mind, let's look at myself for example. As a writer, I usually expect people to follow my literary works whenever I slap something on the Internet or in their face. When that happens, I end up wanting a new fan or five coming out of nowhere and going, "Wow, Josh, this stuff is awesome! I'm going to subscribe to your writing from now on!" I usually pressure my friends everywhere to read this blog and hope that they'll check back on a (near-)daily basis.
While the artist is simply looking for a sort-of support crew, they inadvertently turn away anyone who'd be willing to be part of their cheer section. In reality, the only thing they've probably done by this excessive... "advertisement" is drive most of these people away. While it's nice to get fans who appreciate what you do, the truth is that you can't force someone to automatically "like" your work - you have to earn their viewership and support. Artists can't expect their friends and family to understand what they're doing and why they're doing it right from the get-go, so unwillingly injecting them with samples of their work will only cause them to ignore your dreams.
Trust me when I say that advertising to your family and friends without force-feeding them takes a lot of hard work. I still try to get readers like this, though, but I understand that the true fans will eventually congregate and tell me. ...I'm just not as patient as some others. *scratches head in embarrassment*
3. Base the success of your entire career on one project.
I myself am heavily guilty of this one - I've composed one or two works that could be my magnum opus if I had the time and resources. When I was a bit younger I kept telling myself that if I were able to lift those projects off the ground I'd end up becoming a tremendous success. While I was positively affirming my work (and by extension, myself), I focused too intently on the big ones and virtually let every other project sink to a status in-between "backburner" and "indefinite hiatus." As this happened I ended up hitting block after block when I was working. My mind kept slipping with each stall, and eventually it got to the point where I couldn't work any more.
In a way, I can compare this statement to some Pokémon gamers out there. Far too often have I seen amateur and noobish trainers alike choose to level one "super-powerful Pokémon" and have the rest of their party be significantly weaker than "The One." While this allows their super-powerful Pokémon to trounce anything that comes between their trainer and victory, this also becomes a hindrance should an opponent get a lucky shot in and instantly knock them out.
This doesn't mean you should juggle fifty gazillion projects, either. Just learn to keep yourself at a steady and controllable pace that you can go along with. Better yet, I can provide advice for this statement with one word: BALANCE.
4. Stick with what you know.
Even an open mind can be closed if all they act on is all they're willing to know about. Simply working on things that one considers "good" may not be good enough (or good for that matter). Why else do artists all over spread their roots across different realms of art and entertainment?
Essentially, this boils down to the artist's ability to try something new. When encountering an artist's block, sticking with what they know only furthers the time spent behind their metaphorical obstacle. But for the few who decide to tread in unknown territory, it can turn out to be a great blessing. Musicians who try their hands at acting may find new inspiration for music or find that they can compose music for television. Painters who pick up a pen and write might end up creating a children's book they can illustrate. News reporters who take a class in photography might end up with enough skill to direct that screenplay they wrote years ago.
Who knows? Stepping out of your comfort zone may prove to be beneficial.
5. Undervalue your expertise.
I've stated that an artist's worst critic is themselves, and I'm right. Far too many artists believe their workmanship and skill to be lower than it actually is, and they end up staying cooped in some corner where light barely shines. I should know this - I'm guilty of undervaluing my literary skill.
Most people out there are artists, but a good portion of them are so doubtful of their skill and so afraid of stepping away from the safety of the shadows that they don't let their dreams get some sun and flourish out in the open. You often hear stories of friends who had a "hidden (artistic) talent" that nobody knew they had, and in some cases the only time they get to view this extraordinary ability is when it's far too late to praise them and give them a place to stand. (In worse cases, it sometimes is too late - the artist inside this friend either has metaphorically died... or the friend has actually died.)
The primary cause of this phenomenon? Fear. Fear of rejection. Fear of under-appreciation. Fear of ridicule. Unfortunately, every artist that has existed has to confront all three of those things (along with the fear itself) at some point in their career (more notably so in the beginning stages), so it's inevitable that they end up with this negative self-criticism.
The cure? Putting yourself out there. The fear will still be there, but at least you're letting yourself be heard... letting yourself be marked for potential posterity. Besides, by doing that, you'll expose themselves to someone who does like what they do (and oftentimes, that someone will chastise your pointless fear).
Nobody got anywhere big with self-doubt running rampant in their minds. They had to conquer that fear somehow. And as Augustus Gusteau from Ratatouille said:
"You must be imaginative, strong-hearted. You must try things that may not work, and you must not let anyone define your limits because of where you come from. Your only limit is your soul. What I say is true - anyone can cook... but only the fearless can be great."And while he may have been talking to aspiring chefs, the message is still the same.
6. Let money dictate what you do.
This is one that's more well-known throughout artistic circles - more notably so in the music industry. People always accuse an artist or a band of "selling out" - getting songs out there not for the fans but for the money - and a decent portion of the time they're right. While some bands and artists out there are simply just trying to be heard, others lost their essence of why they even started playing and/or singing in the first place. When that happens, their core fan count drops like flies.
That's not to say that all people who "sold out" actually sold out - but if money ends up becoming a factor in your work, then you'd better have a damn good reason for letting your mind work for the green rather than for the love.
7. Bow to societal pressures.
While artists generally have more individuality than others, some simply lack the courage to be themselves. As the times change, so too do the crowds' tastes in art. This is a major problem that runs rampant throughout every sector of art. Musicians find that their style of music is no longer the popular and dominant kind. Chefs notice that their creations have become "stale" in diners' palettes. Comedic writers (in America) realize that the population prefers mindless slapstick over witty satire.
When this happens, there are two options to follow:
- Go with what the crowd likes and adjust your work to fully match the times.
- Stay firm with your current line of work and (hopefully) endure.
The trick, I think, is to find the fine line that divides those two options and then learning how to tread on that line. Great artists out there have learned to do this - they expand outward to new crowds and ideas while keeping to the original roots that got them where they were in the first place. "Keeping the old with the new," if you will.
8. Only do work that your family would love.
This would be the artistic equivalent of sucking up. Nobody like suck-ups. Suck-ups don't even like suck-ups. They're like the leeches who sit there and waste valuable skill and ability by drawing the compliments of their "critics" until they run dry.
When that happens, what do you have left? Husks who believe you're not going anywhere. This point kind of ties in with #5 ("Undervalue your expertise.") - and it's self-explanatory to boot, so I'll cut myself short for now.
9. Do whatever the client/customer/gallery owner/investor/patron asks.
Every once in a while an artist is contacted by someone interested in their work. They want the artist to compose something for them and are willing to provide some sort of compensation for their time and efforts. When this happens and the artist accepts, it's generally accepted that things are going well for both parties - the "someone" involved gets some kind of quality work, and the artist becomes a bit more recognized in the long run.
Every so often, though, the client in question begins to ask (and eventually demand) things from the artist that just aren't possible. They could be speeding up the timeclock, asking for double the work in the same timeframe, list modifications that are too complex to simply "fix in a jif'," or just plain declare that "'X' would look/sound/feel/smell/taste better" without understand the basics of whatever field of art the artist hails from. Worse, they could be pressuring the artist to go out of their comfort zone and tread in ground they find troublesome. Some artists unfortunately cave into the pressure and end up achieving what their client is looking for. When this happens, though, the client ends up taking more from the artist than just the finished product - they unwittingly end up with a piece of the artist's integrity and self-respect.
Far too many artists have faced someone whose demands weren't reasonable or whose demands were just uncalled for - and even non-artists can agree with this. Last I checked, though: they weren't the artists - the artists were. Sure, they're (probably) paying them to do things their way, but it's still the artist's call.
10. Set unachievable and/or overwhelming goals... to be accomplished by tomorrow.
A major problem with most idealistic artists like myself is that we end up making the most impossible of goals and objectives. We're not talking about trite issues like "getting 500 pages done by next week" or "recording your music album in one take" impossible - that stuff is surprisingly doable (though it does beg to question your sanity if performed). No, the kind of "unachievable and/or overwhelming" I'm talking about correlates to impossibilities that can never be achieved - the "keeping every Allied soldier in World War II alive while killing every Nazi" kind of impossible.
What happens is that we get hit with a snowball of an idea. We pick it up and go, "Wow; this is cool! I wonder what happens if..." and go on to finish that sentence with seven(ty) endings. At the same time, we set a basic goal and deadline for ourselves - more than usually, a reasonable one. As we ponder on those sentences, we end up making new ideas off of that original snowball and pile it on and on and on until the ball of ideas begins to snowball out of our control.
Somewhere embedded within that now-giant snowball is a desire to get the whole thing finished and rolled into a controlled area - the original deadline that can no longer be met. The average idealistic artist will probably kick themselves for not meeting that objective and will then put themselves back on the warpath in an attempt to finish that snowball off once and for all. Oftentimes, though, their make-up plans will backfire and they'll once again lose control of the snowball, and they'll unwittingly keep setting things back in an attempt to maintain control.
This cycle of repeated failure doesn't have to apply to an artist making deadlines they can't meet - maybe they decide to work on something way out of their field and have an innate desire to make it look better than something else. But so long as the objective they set for themselves seems far-fetched, they run the danger of losing control of their work (and eventually, themselves).
This particular statement of artistic misery, when repeated one too many times, is responsible for claiming the dreams (and in some cases, lives) of artists across the universe. And to think it started from one little idea that grew into a gigantic mass of uncontrollable chaos...
Metaphors aside, artists out there are probably aware of this statement and either have developed ways to counteract this or learned not to make themselves work towards something impossible. Though it's not as dangerous now as it once was, the threat of destruction is still presently clear, so the advice I'd take from this one is: tread lightly on your goals.
Well, I certainly hope you were able to get something out of this. I sure did, and while I'm still pacing over my work desk in an attempt to work on personal projects, I can do it with a renewed sense of vision and - more importantly - a clear head that isn't mired with misery.
I will catch y'all tomorrrow. Until then, stay cool, and artists: don't be miserable. =D
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