It's easy to get stuck in a loop sometimes. Memories and perceptions-revisited can give the creative artist a sense of being in a rut, standing still, or not moving forward. This can be reflected in one's work process or in ones output, where we feel a little bit like we're not evolving or challenging ourselves to explore new territories. Sometimes this can lead to frustration or a notion of being caught within the layers of our own psyche, unable to push forward or move beyond our own personal experiences.
It's important for an artist to recognise that sometimes standing still is a part of the creative process. It's not necessarily an indication of one's abilities or denials, but an integral part of the journey. Sometimes taking the time to stand still and look intensively at the view for a long period of time can in itself bring about the insights which can lead to momentum. There is nothing wrong with exploring the one piece of real-estate over and over again. Perhaps there is something here that you've missed or that you feel the need to explore more deeply. perhaps you haven't been able to see the forest for the trees, or just maybe there's something more to explore here that just needs a little unearthing to find it.
Of course, most of us feel the excitement of doing something new. It's exhilarating and tantalising. But don't discount the benefits of staying in the one place for a while. Familiarity can breed it's own unique forms of exploration, and sometimes one can only find things previously hidden by hanging around and digging in the one spot for a while.
Momentum is a great thing, but don't dismiss your process just because you're not experiencing it all of the time. Stay still. be quiet. you might be really surprised at what you find :)
Showing posts with label creativity. Show all posts
Showing posts with label creativity. Show all posts
Sunday, September 2, 2012
Monday, August 13, 2012
Releasing Stuff
Releasing:
To set free from confinement, restraint, or bondage ;To free from something that binds, fastens, or holds back; let go.
It's an interesting definition when you're an artist. This weekend i released a new music track ( FYI http://www.cdbaby.com/cd/taniarose10 ) and now i feel very much like the above definition. I have let it go, but having spent so much intensity on the work, i feel a sense of anticlimax...an emptiness. No need to be concerned. This is a normal part of the process for me, and quite a familiar one for many artists like myself.
Prior to a work's public release, it's something private....like a part of me that hardly anybody knows about. It's secret, and precious...something that's all mine. I write often, but only release from time to time. Not everything i write i like...not everything i produce i'm happy with. So the stuff that i do like and happy with is very special to me. And once it's "out there" in the world, not only does it no longer fit within the definition of being my own precious thing anymore, but also i can no longer nurture it by doing stuff with it. It's growth has ended.
Just like a painter or a sculpture, a music artist spends a labour of love moulding and shaping a piece of music. It takes time and dedication. It takes the belief in something that is part of you, yet stands outside of you. There are hours of frustration, longing, excitement, and faith in every single work which eventually becomes "released". There's an investment in thought, in passion, in dedication, and in trust....times when you face your own stupid demons, and also revel in your epiphanies. A piece of music, which ends up only 4 minutes in length, can have taken months and even years to produce. It can be filled with every extreme of an artists psyche, and only they can really know what it took to get it there. It's final birth is the result of an emotional, intellectual, and sometimes spiritual journey which can only be truly understood by the people who made it.
And so, it's the end of one thing.
I'll be off now, to wrestle with myself and something new.
To set free from confinement, restraint, or bondage ;To free from something that binds, fastens, or holds back; let go.
It's an interesting definition when you're an artist. This weekend i released a new music track ( FYI http://www.cdbaby.com/cd/taniarose10 ) and now i feel very much like the above definition. I have let it go, but having spent so much intensity on the work, i feel a sense of anticlimax...an emptiness. No need to be concerned. This is a normal part of the process for me, and quite a familiar one for many artists like myself.
Prior to a work's public release, it's something private....like a part of me that hardly anybody knows about. It's secret, and precious...something that's all mine. I write often, but only release from time to time. Not everything i write i like...not everything i produce i'm happy with. So the stuff that i do like and happy with is very special to me. And once it's "out there" in the world, not only does it no longer fit within the definition of being my own precious thing anymore, but also i can no longer nurture it by doing stuff with it. It's growth has ended.
Just like a painter or a sculpture, a music artist spends a labour of love moulding and shaping a piece of music. It takes time and dedication. It takes the belief in something that is part of you, yet stands outside of you. There are hours of frustration, longing, excitement, and faith in every single work which eventually becomes "released". There's an investment in thought, in passion, in dedication, and in trust....times when you face your own stupid demons, and also revel in your epiphanies. A piece of music, which ends up only 4 minutes in length, can have taken months and even years to produce. It can be filled with every extreme of an artists psyche, and only they can really know what it took to get it there. It's final birth is the result of an emotional, intellectual, and sometimes spiritual journey which can only be truly understood by the people who made it.
And so, it's the end of one thing.
I'll be off now, to wrestle with myself and something new.
Wednesday, April 25, 2012
Share With Me
For to me,
this has more life-truth than the
final polished piece i can hang on my wall.
Reveal to me the rawness of the journey,
so i too may feel i had taken it with you,
had seen what you had seen,
had pained as you had pained,
and loved as you had loved.
For to me,
there lies the real beauty in the Art.
Thursday, March 22, 2012
The Working Artist
Most artists find themselves in a situation where they need to supplement their income...bread-and-butter money, i call it. Sometimes it can be related work, such as teaching their art, but often it's more likely to be in another arena, which can be the polar opposite to their work as an artist.
It's not easy jumping from one thing to another. After a day working in the office, it can be frustrating to find the right headspace to work on one's masterpiece. Even working from home can be fraught with a myriad of challenges, and many artists find that inspiration is elusive when you have the stresses of work hanging over you.
There are some ways around this. Getting into a groove or a routine can be helpful at times. Even if you don't feel the muse, just spending time in your creative work area can ease you back into the right frame of mind. Simply tidying up your workspace, or doing something else mundane in your studio can help get you back there. Sometimes, NOT having any goals can ease the expectations of achieving something, which can get you into a much more relaxed state, where you're more likely to find some kind of flow again. There's no need to put yourself under any more pressure than is necessary, and the small and seemingly insignificant things can actually turn out to be just what you needed.
Of course, sometimes a dose of serious pressure can be highly motivational. Deadlines can sometimes be the inspirational force necessary to birthing a new piece, and halting a state of procrastination. If it works for you, try and set your own personal deadlines, but be aware that too much unnecessary pressure can also be counter-productive.
The good thing about having a regular income is that it can save the stress of needing to sell something or deliver the artistic goods to keep food on the table and a roof over your head. If there's a way to earn money that is related to your artform, it's fantastic, but even if it's something completely different, it can give you the freedom to be free from financial worry. You're not necessarily "selling out" by taking that job (which is something i hear often from artists). It can be a great gift to have the freedom to work on your art without wondering if it's going to feed you next week.
Of course, everyone is different, and whatever your situation, there is always a way you can make it work for you. Keep it simple, and take it easy on yourself. If it doesn't work for you today, there's always another day tomorrow.
It's not easy jumping from one thing to another. After a day working in the office, it can be frustrating to find the right headspace to work on one's masterpiece. Even working from home can be fraught with a myriad of challenges, and many artists find that inspiration is elusive when you have the stresses of work hanging over you.
There are some ways around this. Getting into a groove or a routine can be helpful at times. Even if you don't feel the muse, just spending time in your creative work area can ease you back into the right frame of mind. Simply tidying up your workspace, or doing something else mundane in your studio can help get you back there. Sometimes, NOT having any goals can ease the expectations of achieving something, which can get you into a much more relaxed state, where you're more likely to find some kind of flow again. There's no need to put yourself under any more pressure than is necessary, and the small and seemingly insignificant things can actually turn out to be just what you needed.
Of course, sometimes a dose of serious pressure can be highly motivational. Deadlines can sometimes be the inspirational force necessary to birthing a new piece, and halting a state of procrastination. If it works for you, try and set your own personal deadlines, but be aware that too much unnecessary pressure can also be counter-productive.
The good thing about having a regular income is that it can save the stress of needing to sell something or deliver the artistic goods to keep food on the table and a roof over your head. If there's a way to earn money that is related to your artform, it's fantastic, but even if it's something completely different, it can give you the freedom to be free from financial worry. You're not necessarily "selling out" by taking that job (which is something i hear often from artists). It can be a great gift to have the freedom to work on your art without wondering if it's going to feed you next week.
Of course, everyone is different, and whatever your situation, there is always a way you can make it work for you. Keep it simple, and take it easy on yourself. If it doesn't work for you today, there's always another day tomorrow.
Sunday, August 7, 2011
The Labour of Love
I love it when i'm "in the zone" in the recording studio, when the music just seems to come out of me from nowhere, and when something from that moment hits a kind of sweet spot. I love that feeling of synchronicity, even if some of the bits are a bit rough, a few notes pretty jarring, and some of the playing sounded a lot better to me when i was actually playing it.
And then, there's the labour of love...or hate in some cases...when the recording has to be fine-tuned, when the sharp edges have to be carefully ground down, and when the rough diamond has to be patiently cut and polished. Every artform has this process. It can be painful and damn-right annoying. It can see me spending more time walking away from it to clear my head that actually doing the work that needs to be done to make it presentable to the world. Because, you see, i want others to experience it that way i can see it's potential, without having to see past the roughness of the first draft.
Sometimes the process can take so long, i want to throw my hands up in the air and walk away and never return to it. Sometimes i scare myself, thinking that "if this keeps up" i may never finish it, or i'll get so "over it", that i'll no longer hear any magic. I occasionally wonder how long before that labour of love becomes the thorn in my side, especially when it's only a technical problem that's holding up the birth. It's enough fear to keep me motivated to get it done whilst the motivation is there, because i can never guarantee i'll feel the same about it tomorrow.
But recently i spoke of how much i enjoy being privy to the process of others, and so i made a decision...to share some works-in-process, with their warts and all. I've given myself a challenge to spend more time in the creating and sharing of drafts than in the polishing. I'm going to put aside my desire for detail, and leave things a bit raw and "not quite right". Maybe someone else might enjoy hearing my own progress through a piece as much as i enjoy watching another artist evolve their piece of art. Who knows. Maybe there's people out there who would actually prefer to hear drafts than listen to something slick and shiny.
And you know what? it feels GOOD.
And then, there's the labour of love...or hate in some cases...when the recording has to be fine-tuned, when the sharp edges have to be carefully ground down, and when the rough diamond has to be patiently cut and polished. Every artform has this process. It can be painful and damn-right annoying. It can see me spending more time walking away from it to clear my head that actually doing the work that needs to be done to make it presentable to the world. Because, you see, i want others to experience it that way i can see it's potential, without having to see past the roughness of the first draft.
Sometimes the process can take so long, i want to throw my hands up in the air and walk away and never return to it. Sometimes i scare myself, thinking that "if this keeps up" i may never finish it, or i'll get so "over it", that i'll no longer hear any magic. I occasionally wonder how long before that labour of love becomes the thorn in my side, especially when it's only a technical problem that's holding up the birth. It's enough fear to keep me motivated to get it done whilst the motivation is there, because i can never guarantee i'll feel the same about it tomorrow.
But recently i spoke of how much i enjoy being privy to the process of others, and so i made a decision...to share some works-in-process, with their warts and all. I've given myself a challenge to spend more time in the creating and sharing of drafts than in the polishing. I'm going to put aside my desire for detail, and leave things a bit raw and "not quite right". Maybe someone else might enjoy hearing my own progress through a piece as much as i enjoy watching another artist evolve their piece of art. Who knows. Maybe there's people out there who would actually prefer to hear drafts than listen to something slick and shiny.
And you know what? it feels GOOD.
Friday, July 8, 2011
Art In A Crisis!
When a life crisis hits, many creative people instinctively turn towards their art. Sometimes they can experience a manic surge of artistic activity, creating large bodies of work within a short time-frame. For many artists, life's misadventures can help build creativity and dedication. So what's the drive?
Friends and family sometimes find it difficult to witness a creative loved-one disappear into their world of art, assuming that they are using it to "escape the truth", or "ignore" those around them. But often there is something more going on. Many artists first discover their need for creating art through a negative experience, or a sudden change of circumstances. If they were lucky enough to have discovered it from a young age, their art may be the only reliable constant in their lives they feel they have control over.
Professionals in medicine are now beginning to understand how powerful creativity is in promoting healing and good mental health during times of crisis. through art, we can express things that cannot be said, cannot be changed, or cannot be understood. It also infuses a sense of empowerment and strength, and the process offers a place to purge and analyse oneself and try and make sense of the world around us.
So next time your artist locks themselves away and goes crazy with the art, think of it as a GOOD thing, They might just emerge a stronger and healthier person.
|
| Celluloid by Tania Rose |
Professionals in medicine are now beginning to understand how powerful creativity is in promoting healing and good mental health during times of crisis. through art, we can express things that cannot be said, cannot be changed, or cannot be understood. It also infuses a sense of empowerment and strength, and the process offers a place to purge and analyse oneself and try and make sense of the world around us.
So next time your artist locks themselves away and goes crazy with the art, think of it as a GOOD thing, They might just emerge a stronger and healthier person.
Monday, October 25, 2010
A Gem amongst Gems
I wrote this in response to fellow creative Karin Taylor today, and thought i would share it, as i feel it relates to all of us artists...
We artists are unique creatures, compelled to create, frustrated by our own inabilities, scarcely acknowledging our strengths, emotional yet removed, intense and often flippant. Our passion can scarcely be matched, and our depth often self-destructive, yet we contribute more to the culture of humanity than any other group.
We are timeless. We are often misunderstood. We are dreamers of the highest calibre. We are timekeepers, and shape destinies. And we must live with ourselves through each and every moment.
The journey is, at best, extraordinary. Above all else, this is what we must remind ourselves.
For we have much to achieve, and very little time in which to achieve it.
Live long and prosper, as you are a gem amongst gems
We artists are unique creatures, compelled to create, frustrated by our own inabilities, scarcely acknowledging our strengths, emotional yet removed, intense and often flippant. Our passion can scarcely be matched, and our depth often self-destructive, yet we contribute more to the culture of humanity than any other group.
We are timeless. We are often misunderstood. We are dreamers of the highest calibre. We are timekeepers, and shape destinies. And we must live with ourselves through each and every moment.
The journey is, at best, extraordinary. Above all else, this is what we must remind ourselves.
For we have much to achieve, and very little time in which to achieve it.
Live long and prosper, as you are a gem amongst gems
Monday, September 6, 2010
The Pain of ART
I love creating.
I don't care what it is...music, an artwork, a garden...hang, even a chicken coop! There is, however, an element of pain involved, as with all robust births.
It a kind of pain that can't be explained. Not a hurt, per se', but a dull and very persistent ache which closes you off...not just from other people, but also from yourself. Sometimes it precedes a rush of emotion...anger, tears...it's like a madness, where you literally lose it. (This is a good time to remove yourself from any proximity to innocent bystanders, such as spouses, or friends you'd like to keep).
I don't understand it, and i have noticed it seems to increase with age. It's like the more i know, the more i have to try and cram through the eye of that needle. i sometimes get the urge to rip open my skin to let out whatever-the-hell wants to come out.
Sometimes it gets too hard, and i just want to run and hide, so i try to bury it down deep. Creative people can only do this for so long before they burst.
This is all counterbalanced by the euphoria that goes with creating...this i cant explain. It goes beyond words. It all boils down to the intense experiences that only the artist can know, and that most people who admire the art no virtually nothing of.
Are we all crazy? possibly. It could be that being a creative is actually a symptom of some brain defect they will identify in the future. The fact is that many artists suffer from depression at the very least, so does this go to make them better artists? maybe.Maybe we're all wired for self destruction on the inside whilst we reconstruct on the outside.
I love creating...
I don't care what it is...music, an artwork, a garden...hang, even a chicken coop! There is, however, an element of pain involved, as with all robust births.
It a kind of pain that can't be explained. Not a hurt, per se', but a dull and very persistent ache which closes you off...not just from other people, but also from yourself. Sometimes it precedes a rush of emotion...anger, tears...it's like a madness, where you literally lose it. (This is a good time to remove yourself from any proximity to innocent bystanders, such as spouses, or friends you'd like to keep).
I don't understand it, and i have noticed it seems to increase with age. It's like the more i know, the more i have to try and cram through the eye of that needle. i sometimes get the urge to rip open my skin to let out whatever-the-hell wants to come out.
Sometimes it gets too hard, and i just want to run and hide, so i try to bury it down deep. Creative people can only do this for so long before they burst.
This is all counterbalanced by the euphoria that goes with creating...this i cant explain. It goes beyond words. It all boils down to the intense experiences that only the artist can know, and that most people who admire the art no virtually nothing of.
Are we all crazy? possibly. It could be that being a creative is actually a symptom of some brain defect they will identify in the future. The fact is that many artists suffer from depression at the very least, so does this go to make them better artists? maybe.Maybe we're all wired for self destruction on the inside whilst we reconstruct on the outside.
I love creating...
Monday, May 10, 2010
Big Things from simple ideas
Great ideas often come from the most simple ideas. Things don't always have to be complicated to make a statement, to be impressive, or to make you think. If you can relate to it in a way you have never thought about before, it can move you to take your own imaginings to new heights.
So next time you have a slightly bent take on something ordinary, indulge yourself and create something wonderful :)
Monday, December 7, 2009
Sick
Being sick sucks. It bores me, on so many levels, except for it's one major drawcard...the only thing it has going for it....reflection.
When i'm sick, i think about things in a very different way. I consider what i'd REALLY like to be doing, and ask myself questions about what i AM doing. I take time out, doing nothing but nothing, which gives my head some free-thinking time. I imagine a myriad of possibilities, reflect on things i possibily hadn't thought of since the last time i was sick. I value simple things in new ways, and perceive the mundane in a new light.
I've always got momentum, always doing something, brainstorming, planning, making, trying...but when i'm sick, much of that stops. I'm a totally different me. I stand still. i wait. i stall for time. i stare. i simply stop. And sometimes, something wonderful appears...
When i'm sick, i think about things in a very different way. I consider what i'd REALLY like to be doing, and ask myself questions about what i AM doing. I take time out, doing nothing but nothing, which gives my head some free-thinking time. I imagine a myriad of possibilities, reflect on things i possibily hadn't thought of since the last time i was sick. I value simple things in new ways, and perceive the mundane in a new light.
I've always got momentum, always doing something, brainstorming, planning, making, trying...but when i'm sick, much of that stops. I'm a totally different me. I stand still. i wait. i stall for time. i stare. i simply stop. And sometimes, something wonderful appears...
Monday, November 23, 2009
Different and The Same
I had some feedback from a customer today, who bought 4 CDs, then followed it up with the Feather's Breath CD. Their comment was "the music is all the same music on all the CDs". Well, of course that's not true. Sure, like most artists, i don't deny that much of my music has my trademark sound. But Feather's Breath in itself has no electronic sounds on it AT ALL, is all voice and flutes, and is quite a diversion from my other recordings. But i got to thinking, maybe they're right. Maybe all of my music is the same.
I don't think that's a bad thing. In fact, i have also been critisised by some fans who dislike anything which isn't like my first release, the "Coral sea Dreaming" soundtrack. So what can i do with all of this feedback? I know you can't please all of the people all of the time, and there's always going to be someone who has a strong opinion on which music is better than another, but where do i file this in my head?
The fact is, i really have very little choice in what comes out of me. Yeah, i might start off with some kind of concept, or an idea, but when it comes to the guts of creating music, it all just evolves out of where i'm at at the time. Sometimes that's in familiar territory, sometimes in unchartered waters, but it all has one thing in common...it comes from me.
I was looking at an older painting done by the very talented artist Karin Taylor this morning, and i knew it was hers just by looking at it. It's very different from her current work, some 8 years later, but there's a familiarity about it that i recognise. I'm sure i could analyse it to find the elements that make it familiar, but it comes from her, so it is a part of her. In fact i'm glad there is a familiarity to it. It made me immediately warm to the painting, because i enjoy her work.
So, I'm comfortable for some people to find my music similar, and happy also for other people to find my music somewhat eclectic. It's going to be very interesting to hear what others have to say when i begin releasing music in completely different genres. I'm sure, like anything, there will be those who'll be very supportive, and those who'll be critical, but one thing is for sure. It's all a part of who I am, and what i create.
I don't think that's a bad thing. In fact, i have also been critisised by some fans who dislike anything which isn't like my first release, the "Coral sea Dreaming" soundtrack. So what can i do with all of this feedback? I know you can't please all of the people all of the time, and there's always going to be someone who has a strong opinion on which music is better than another, but where do i file this in my head?
The fact is, i really have very little choice in what comes out of me. Yeah, i might start off with some kind of concept, or an idea, but when it comes to the guts of creating music, it all just evolves out of where i'm at at the time. Sometimes that's in familiar territory, sometimes in unchartered waters, but it all has one thing in common...it comes from me.
I was looking at an older painting done by the very talented artist Karin Taylor this morning, and i knew it was hers just by looking at it. It's very different from her current work, some 8 years later, but there's a familiarity about it that i recognise. I'm sure i could analyse it to find the elements that make it familiar, but it comes from her, so it is a part of her. In fact i'm glad there is a familiarity to it. It made me immediately warm to the painting, because i enjoy her work.
So, I'm comfortable for some people to find my music similar, and happy also for other people to find my music somewhat eclectic. It's going to be very interesting to hear what others have to say when i begin releasing music in completely different genres. I'm sure, like anything, there will be those who'll be very supportive, and those who'll be critical, but one thing is for sure. It's all a part of who I am, and what i create.
Friday, November 20, 2009
Messy Messy World
I create mess.
In fact, it's possible the biggest talent i have. That's how good i am at it.
I don't like mess. I don't like living with it, seeing it, or negotiating my way around it, but i'm surrounded by it.
I leave stuff lying around to remind me to do stuff. I leave countless things on my desk, on the floor, in piles, on boxes, in doorways, on benches... each of which is a reminder to attend to something. The problem is that after a while, i just look over it, and dont attend to many of those things at all. Then i get sick of the mess.
I'm also a bit of a hoarder. I hang on to things for many reasons, just like my mother. You see, it might be useful one day, it would be a shame to just throw it away...what a waste. The kids might use that. I'm going to fix that thingamebob one day, and that'll be just the thing. This is encouraged by my strong concerns for the environment, and being mindful of waste. BUT it adds to my mess.
I figure what i really need is a really big white board and keep lists instead of stuff on my desks and benchspaces. I also need some super storage, where i can sort my stuff into some kind of system, and not boxes.
Don't get me wrong. I do have some kind of order, of sorts. All my fabric lives in a fabric cupboard now, and whilst my office and stock room are in the same space, i have no choice but to have SOME kind of order. And i like tidy and neat. When i clean up the space, it begins to feel sacred. It feels new and uncluttered, which makes my head feel fresh. I even have new thoughts, to go with the new space.
Living in a house the size of a shoe box has been challenging, so i'm curious as to how my habits will change when i have space in the near future. But in the meantime, i really do need to make the most of what i have, clean up, and turn my mess into open spaces, where my creativity can be let loose without clambering into a teetering stack of boxes
In fact, it's possible the biggest talent i have. That's how good i am at it.
I don't like mess. I don't like living with it, seeing it, or negotiating my way around it, but i'm surrounded by it.
I leave stuff lying around to remind me to do stuff. I leave countless things on my desk, on the floor, in piles, on boxes, in doorways, on benches... each of which is a reminder to attend to something. The problem is that after a while, i just look over it, and dont attend to many of those things at all. Then i get sick of the mess.
I'm also a bit of a hoarder. I hang on to things for many reasons, just like my mother. You see, it might be useful one day, it would be a shame to just throw it away...what a waste. The kids might use that. I'm going to fix that thingamebob one day, and that'll be just the thing. This is encouraged by my strong concerns for the environment, and being mindful of waste. BUT it adds to my mess.
I figure what i really need is a really big white board and keep lists instead of stuff on my desks and benchspaces. I also need some super storage, where i can sort my stuff into some kind of system, and not boxes.
Don't get me wrong. I do have some kind of order, of sorts. All my fabric lives in a fabric cupboard now, and whilst my office and stock room are in the same space, i have no choice but to have SOME kind of order. And i like tidy and neat. When i clean up the space, it begins to feel sacred. It feels new and uncluttered, which makes my head feel fresh. I even have new thoughts, to go with the new space.
Living in a house the size of a shoe box has been challenging, so i'm curious as to how my habits will change when i have space in the near future. But in the meantime, i really do need to make the most of what i have, clean up, and turn my mess into open spaces, where my creativity can be let loose without clambering into a teetering stack of boxes
Tuesday, November 17, 2009
Artists Boxed
I was interviewed today in a government artist survey.
As i have come to be accustomed to, i didn't quite fit into their boxes. The questions weren't adequate in their scope, and so i found myself and the interviewer (who, luckily for me, had some experience in understanding the music business) squeezing my work, my art, and myself into the various boxes of the questionaire.
It did get me thinking, though. It got me thinking about where i've come from, how i got here, and how hard i've worked to create my career. I thought about the choices i've made personally to fullfill a desire to persure my goals and my creations. i don't consider that i've made persoanl sacrifices, because i've always prefered to be poor and happy working on my projects than finacially seccure and hating my job. But i realise that i have made personal sacrifices, even though i kept a smile on my face.
Artists get used to not fitting in. We generally don't fit in to the usual boxes, and our works are often overlooked as being indulgent or unnecessary. Yet any historian will tell you that it's the art of all cultures that truly reflects society. Art, in all it's forms, brings people together. It's the music we listen to, the stuff we watch on television, the shape of your coffee mug and the design on your tshirt...everything that came from an idea is a part of the creative stream of our time. Art is an integrated medium, whether we want to believe it on not.
So next time you see that small scultpure hanging on the wall of your local cafe, bear in mind that the next inventer to see that could be sparked to create something that future generations can't do without in their day-to-day lives. That CD that you're listening to, might create a fashion revolution, inspiring a designer to draw to the music, and create something extraordinary, and that photograph in that magazine, could invoke a new way , a better way of dealing with climate change.
So, whilst we will never fit into any of the obvious boxes, consider us an all-inclusive package, right where your sitting, right now.
As i have come to be accustomed to, i didn't quite fit into their boxes. The questions weren't adequate in their scope, and so i found myself and the interviewer (who, luckily for me, had some experience in understanding the music business) squeezing my work, my art, and myself into the various boxes of the questionaire.
It did get me thinking, though. It got me thinking about where i've come from, how i got here, and how hard i've worked to create my career. I thought about the choices i've made personally to fullfill a desire to persure my goals and my creations. i don't consider that i've made persoanl sacrifices, because i've always prefered to be poor and happy working on my projects than finacially seccure and hating my job. But i realise that i have made personal sacrifices, even though i kept a smile on my face.
Artists get used to not fitting in. We generally don't fit in to the usual boxes, and our works are often overlooked as being indulgent or unnecessary. Yet any historian will tell you that it's the art of all cultures that truly reflects society. Art, in all it's forms, brings people together. It's the music we listen to, the stuff we watch on television, the shape of your coffee mug and the design on your tshirt...everything that came from an idea is a part of the creative stream of our time. Art is an integrated medium, whether we want to believe it on not.
So next time you see that small scultpure hanging on the wall of your local cafe, bear in mind that the next inventer to see that could be sparked to create something that future generations can't do without in their day-to-day lives. That CD that you're listening to, might create a fashion revolution, inspiring a designer to draw to the music, and create something extraordinary, and that photograph in that magazine, could invoke a new way , a better way of dealing with climate change.
So, whilst we will never fit into any of the obvious boxes, consider us an all-inclusive package, right where your sitting, right now.
Tuesday, November 10, 2009
Make more stuff
I wish i would draw more.
I love to draw. I drew a lot as a kid. But i rarely do it now. I know other people who draw all the time, and they inspire me to draw more. But i've let it go. Now, i need to schedule in drawing time to my week. That's ok. It's better than not drawing at all. And when my kids first saw me draw, they were flabbergasted, immediately gathering paper and pencils to share the experience. Now, i WILL draw more.
I want to sew more. Sewing frustrates me, because i don't like following the rules. My mother used to sew a LOT. She is an awesome seamstress, probably because she had to make all of her clothes when she was a kid. But she follows the rules. She's pedantic and finicky with it. I'm haphazard, and go off on tangents. But i want to find a place in my life for sewing. She taught me how to sew. I don't want to loose anything she's taught me. Sewing is beautiful.
I've never had my own garden, one that i totally own. But soon i will. I want to fill it with plants that provide something, that contribute. Food, medicine, shelter....a plant for a purpose. But i want them to eventually be self-sufficient, surviving and contributing simply because they exist. I look forward to my garden.
I love to draw. I drew a lot as a kid. But i rarely do it now. I know other people who draw all the time, and they inspire me to draw more. But i've let it go. Now, i need to schedule in drawing time to my week. That's ok. It's better than not drawing at all. And when my kids first saw me draw, they were flabbergasted, immediately gathering paper and pencils to share the experience. Now, i WILL draw more.
I want to sew more. Sewing frustrates me, because i don't like following the rules. My mother used to sew a LOT. She is an awesome seamstress, probably because she had to make all of her clothes when she was a kid. But she follows the rules. She's pedantic and finicky with it. I'm haphazard, and go off on tangents. But i want to find a place in my life for sewing. She taught me how to sew. I don't want to loose anything she's taught me. Sewing is beautiful.
I've never had my own garden, one that i totally own. But soon i will. I want to fill it with plants that provide something, that contribute. Food, medicine, shelter....a plant for a purpose. But i want them to eventually be self-sufficient, surviving and contributing simply because they exist. I look forward to my garden.
Wednesday, July 29, 2009
The Scavenger
Creative people are scavengers.
They're always on the lookout for something to take away with them. Sometimes it's tangible, sometimes not, but always it's real.
That view.
The sound.
Those expressions.
The mood.
An idea.
The feeling.
That concept.
Those things.
The Scavenger soaks everything up, taking notes...
Scratching below the surface to find something hidden, in conversations or behind gazes, turning what others cast aside into intricate tapestries, exploring strange worlds of the unspoken.
Sometimes it's the thrill of the chase.
Sometimes it's like diving in the ocean.
It's unknown territory.
Private.
Personal.
It links beyond the dry facade of life's daily grind, into the sweetness of the depths of humanity.
It's unspoilt.
Untamed.
Calling out from beneath layers of time.
It's bitterness and succulence.
Pain and immortality.
Truth.
Denial.
The hunt.
The capture.
And then.....setting it free
They're always on the lookout for something to take away with them. Sometimes it's tangible, sometimes not, but always it's real.
That view.
The sound.
Those expressions.
The mood.
An idea.
The feeling.
That concept.
Those things.
The Scavenger soaks everything up, taking notes...
Scratching below the surface to find something hidden, in conversations or behind gazes, turning what others cast aside into intricate tapestries, exploring strange worlds of the unspoken.
Sometimes it's the thrill of the chase.
Sometimes it's like diving in the ocean.
It's unknown territory.
Private.
Personal.
It links beyond the dry facade of life's daily grind, into the sweetness of the depths of humanity.
It's unspoilt.
Untamed.
Calling out from beneath layers of time.
It's bitterness and succulence.
Pain and immortality.
Truth.
Denial.
The hunt.
The capture.
And then.....setting it free
Friday, July 24, 2009
Cloisterers & Loiterers
You've seen them...
They're the ones sitting there in the corner on their own, at the pub, and the cafe', at your regular haunt. Almost always alone...thinking, watching (but not too obviously). If you sit close enough you can almost hear the cogs turning in their heads. Silent observers.
They might be a writer, perhaps an artist, possibly someone who seeks out the experience without participating in one. They are the Loiterers, an unassuming yet often misunderstood breed of creatives, who can easily spend countless hours in these places. Occasionally they'll find themselves so engrossed in a scenario that they'll laugh out loud, but rarely would they accept an offer to join you. The Loiterers are immersing themselves in reality, not participating in it.
Then, they pack up their notepads and memories, and go back to their world, perhaps to include their observations in their art, perhaps to ponder, and possibly to dream.
You don't really know the Cloisterers.
They usually only spend fleeting moments in public. Their world lies in their own sacred space, carefully crafted out of ordered chaos, or fanatical displays. Though they love to be invited, they'll rarely play, but if you're lucky enough to be a part of a small list of trusted people, you will have a friend for life.
Shutting out the world means there is plenty of room for a new one to emerge. A world full of complexity and creative reasoning. The Cloisterer lives in the world they have created for themselves, one that is safe enough for ideas to evolve and delicate works to be created. Their world is one full of dreams and aspirations, where the demons of the creative minds can be kept in check, and where the ebb and flow of the emotional tides can freely be navigated without justification or excuse.
Both the Cloisterer and the Loiterer dwell within each creative mind, sometimes simultaneously. They may at times be hidden by a layer of bravado or an extroverted or friendly personality, but they are there, underneath the surface. And sometimes a creative mind needs to sink into their shadow and explore them, though melancholic in their appearance.
The Cloisterer and the Loiterer are here to stay...
They're the ones sitting there in the corner on their own, at the pub, and the cafe', at your regular haunt. Almost always alone...thinking, watching (but not too obviously). If you sit close enough you can almost hear the cogs turning in their heads. Silent observers.
They might be a writer, perhaps an artist, possibly someone who seeks out the experience without participating in one. They are the Loiterers, an unassuming yet often misunderstood breed of creatives, who can easily spend countless hours in these places. Occasionally they'll find themselves so engrossed in a scenario that they'll laugh out loud, but rarely would they accept an offer to join you. The Loiterers are immersing themselves in reality, not participating in it.
Then, they pack up their notepads and memories, and go back to their world, perhaps to include their observations in their art, perhaps to ponder, and possibly to dream.
You don't really know the Cloisterers.
They usually only spend fleeting moments in public. Their world lies in their own sacred space, carefully crafted out of ordered chaos, or fanatical displays. Though they love to be invited, they'll rarely play, but if you're lucky enough to be a part of a small list of trusted people, you will have a friend for life.
Shutting out the world means there is plenty of room for a new one to emerge. A world full of complexity and creative reasoning. The Cloisterer lives in the world they have created for themselves, one that is safe enough for ideas to evolve and delicate works to be created. Their world is one full of dreams and aspirations, where the demons of the creative minds can be kept in check, and where the ebb and flow of the emotional tides can freely be navigated without justification or excuse.
Both the Cloisterer and the Loiterer dwell within each creative mind, sometimes simultaneously. They may at times be hidden by a layer of bravado or an extroverted or friendly personality, but they are there, underneath the surface. And sometimes a creative mind needs to sink into their shadow and explore them, though melancholic in their appearance.
The Cloisterer and the Loiterer are here to stay...
Tuesday, July 21, 2009
My Work, My Nakendness
Songwriters sometimes describe performing their songs on stage as akin to standing in front of a crowd, stark naked. When you've created something it can be like that...like you're revealing yourself, exposing all your vulnerabilities, all your weaknesses, your secret desires, and your pain.
Sometimes this is because it's out of those things that our art is created. There are times when our pain gives birth to inspiration, or our vulnerability makes way for an expression of inner strength. But there is also the secrets, the stuff that is unconscious. The knowledge that someone might interpret our work and expose something we didn't even know about ourselves. Like the painter who creates random abstract paintings, only to discover that viewers see more than was intended.
The fear of revealing oneself is something the creative mind deals with every time they show their work to a friend, a family member, or an audience. In fact, the fear of one can far outweigh the fear of the many. I remember feeling extremely uncomfortable with revealing my music to my family more than to a venue full of people. And the individuals i chose to show my works to were selected not only with great deliberation, but also via their placement in time. Sometimes there would be only a window of a couple of days where i was willing to share, and if the right person wasn't around to listen...
But it's not just the uncomfortableness of oneself. Creative people are often extremely sensitive to the feelings of others. So imagine sharing something with someone, but not wanting to put them on the spot in any way that would make them awkward to offer any kind of feedback. This is something often overlooked. Artists generally want honesty. Of course they don't want to be hurt, but they don't want to hear Uncle John say "hey, i like that" just because he might feel he's expected to say that. They don't want pandering, though they do want encouragement. It can get complicated.
My mother is my biggest critic. I know that she loves that i write music, but she is careful not to show too much enthusiasm. This i sometimes interpret as indifference, which i used to find very challenging. She is honest with her own taste in music, telling me in no uncertain terms when she can't stand to listen to one of my pieces, or when it's "alright, i guess". It's complicated because she is my mother, and i want her to show a mountain of pride, and lashings of support, but i admire her honesty. She will tell me straight out that the CD artwork is completely the wrong colour for the music and that she finds a sound irritating, but i lean on the knowledge that she is trying to be helpful and truthful, and not mollycoddle me, and as such i only show her pieces that are near completion. Because i know that the complicatedness of our relationship will become too great an influence, and i would find myself changing things to suit her and not myself.
Art is from the heart, whether it's an awareness or a subconscious influence. It's endless possibilities make it a difficult birth process at times. Revealing oneself confidently, warts and all, doesn't come with the job. It's because of our vulnerability that we can create, so to reveal ourselves takes practice, patience, and a lot of gritting of teeth. It's a skill that must be learnt, like on-the-job-training. It's the hardest thing, yet is imperative if we are to share our talents. It's bracing for impact, crumpling in an emotional heap, lashing out with bitterness and anger, cowering with angst and uncertainly, putting on armour and challenging any opponent. It's all of this and more.
We are what we are, and we do what we do. We're not really eccentric. Just creative minds, with a need to explore.
Sometimes this is because it's out of those things that our art is created. There are times when our pain gives birth to inspiration, or our vulnerability makes way for an expression of inner strength. But there is also the secrets, the stuff that is unconscious. The knowledge that someone might interpret our work and expose something we didn't even know about ourselves. Like the painter who creates random abstract paintings, only to discover that viewers see more than was intended.
The fear of revealing oneself is something the creative mind deals with every time they show their work to a friend, a family member, or an audience. In fact, the fear of one can far outweigh the fear of the many. I remember feeling extremely uncomfortable with revealing my music to my family more than to a venue full of people. And the individuals i chose to show my works to were selected not only with great deliberation, but also via their placement in time. Sometimes there would be only a window of a couple of days where i was willing to share, and if the right person wasn't around to listen...
But it's not just the uncomfortableness of oneself. Creative people are often extremely sensitive to the feelings of others. So imagine sharing something with someone, but not wanting to put them on the spot in any way that would make them awkward to offer any kind of feedback. This is something often overlooked. Artists generally want honesty. Of course they don't want to be hurt, but they don't want to hear Uncle John say "hey, i like that" just because he might feel he's expected to say that. They don't want pandering, though they do want encouragement. It can get complicated.
My mother is my biggest critic. I know that she loves that i write music, but she is careful not to show too much enthusiasm. This i sometimes interpret as indifference, which i used to find very challenging. She is honest with her own taste in music, telling me in no uncertain terms when she can't stand to listen to one of my pieces, or when it's "alright, i guess". It's complicated because she is my mother, and i want her to show a mountain of pride, and lashings of support, but i admire her honesty. She will tell me straight out that the CD artwork is completely the wrong colour for the music and that she finds a sound irritating, but i lean on the knowledge that she is trying to be helpful and truthful, and not mollycoddle me, and as such i only show her pieces that are near completion. Because i know that the complicatedness of our relationship will become too great an influence, and i would find myself changing things to suit her and not myself.
Art is from the heart, whether it's an awareness or a subconscious influence. It's endless possibilities make it a difficult birth process at times. Revealing oneself confidently, warts and all, doesn't come with the job. It's because of our vulnerability that we can create, so to reveal ourselves takes practice, patience, and a lot of gritting of teeth. It's a skill that must be learnt, like on-the-job-training. It's the hardest thing, yet is imperative if we are to share our talents. It's bracing for impact, crumpling in an emotional heap, lashing out with bitterness and anger, cowering with angst and uncertainly, putting on armour and challenging any opponent. It's all of this and more.
We are what we are, and we do what we do. We're not really eccentric. Just creative minds, with a need to explore.
Friday, July 17, 2009
Creator vs Saboteur
Ahhh, self sabotage. Anyone who writes music, makes art, choreographs, writes, or does anything else creative knows how closely just that term hits home. Living within each one of us lurks the Saboteur, like a devil on our shoulder. Even when things seems to be going well, we can feel it hiding in the shadows, like a grim reaper awaiting it's victim. It stalks us...patiently...waiting for the perfect opportunity to strike us down, with lethal blows.
The Saboteur prays on our weaknesses, our doubts, our holes. It puts us on the defensive, where we feel we have to justify our place in the world, our community, our home, and even ourselves. And being a saboteur of the self, it remains hidden from view from all those around us. Only we are aware of it's presence, only we can hear it's taunts. It lives with us as we work, and we can hear it panning schemes of our undoing.
But people around us can see it's handiwork. i can see that you are your own undoing. I can see that the only thing stopping you is yourself. I can see that you're making excuses, finding reasons why NOT to do, and making assumptions based on fear. But YOU....you live WITHIN the world of the Saboteur. To you it's not that simple, because it haunts you every day, each time you question anything. For you, it's not as simple as being afraid people wont like your art...it runs much deeper than that. For you, it's layers and layers of torment, complication, and desperation, daily guilt, remorse, isolation, and regret. For you it's not as easy to just get on with it, get over it, and turn a new page. For you, it's the thorn in your side that never ceases.
But the Saboteur keeps you in check. It keeps the fight alive. Makes you work harder. To see the light you have to place it in the dark. It's voice, though haunting, can drive you to prove it wrong. You work is better because of it's unending presence. You scoff at it, laugh it down, drive over it with a lawnmower...mock it until it becomes little more than a shade of grey. It feeds you to do better, fly higher, create greater.
Self Sabotage will always be a part of artistic life. The trick is to use it's presence to empower yourself and your work. It is merely the yang to your yin, the night to your day. So long as you strive for balance, your never need to fear it's influence.
The Saboteur prays on our weaknesses, our doubts, our holes. It puts us on the defensive, where we feel we have to justify our place in the world, our community, our home, and even ourselves. And being a saboteur of the self, it remains hidden from view from all those around us. Only we are aware of it's presence, only we can hear it's taunts. It lives with us as we work, and we can hear it panning schemes of our undoing.
But people around us can see it's handiwork. i can see that you are your own undoing. I can see that the only thing stopping you is yourself. I can see that you're making excuses, finding reasons why NOT to do, and making assumptions based on fear. But YOU....you live WITHIN the world of the Saboteur. To you it's not that simple, because it haunts you every day, each time you question anything. For you, it's not as simple as being afraid people wont like your art...it runs much deeper than that. For you, it's layers and layers of torment, complication, and desperation, daily guilt, remorse, isolation, and regret. For you it's not as easy to just get on with it, get over it, and turn a new page. For you, it's the thorn in your side that never ceases.
But the Saboteur keeps you in check. It keeps the fight alive. Makes you work harder. To see the light you have to place it in the dark. It's voice, though haunting, can drive you to prove it wrong. You work is better because of it's unending presence. You scoff at it, laugh it down, drive over it with a lawnmower...mock it until it becomes little more than a shade of grey. It feeds you to do better, fly higher, create greater.
Self Sabotage will always be a part of artistic life. The trick is to use it's presence to empower yourself and your work. It is merely the yang to your yin, the night to your day. So long as you strive for balance, your never need to fear it's influence.
Thursday, July 2, 2009
One Step Further...
Sooner or later you come to a crossroads. You've created all of this fantastic music/art/groovy-stuff, and you get to a point where you have to take a plunge to move forward. It's a first. Your first CD, exhibition, book, sale...whatever it is, it's filled with as much terror as it is excitement.
We live in an era where we can't make up the excuses we used to. Anything is possible. We generally have access to the tools to make this project happen, but it's fraught with the pain of "what if". What if it doesn't sell, what if i get bad reviews, what if I'm rejected? But here's the thing...nothing in this world is guaranteed. There is no water-tight solution for success.
And what is success? I measure success in the ability to create something out of nothing, regardless of whether hoards of people come flocking. How many times have you heard of artists struggling all their lives, only to be recognised after their deaths because of their extraordinary contribution to the world culture? How many films have been dismally received only to become cult icons decades later? And how many cds have had no airplay, yet warm the hearts of a few? I told myself at the beginning of my career that if i could touch the heart of one human being, and move them to make a change for the better, my work was done. Then i read my first fan letter, a stranger whom i didn't know changed his life because he was inspired. I was moved so deeply that my heart cried, and i made an oath to myself that my work had only just begun.
I remember the angst of creating my first independent release. The decision seemed agonising, but i knew it had to be done. I owed it to my children, to lead by example, and i had always believed that being a closet artist was a selfish occupation. Being creative doesn't come easy to many, so the rest of us have an obligation to share what we do with humanity. I lent on that idea every step of the way. I had to learn how to keep myself out of the way.
My first boxes of CDs sat in a cupboard for many moons. I had no idea what to do next, so for a long while i did almost nothing. Then i decided there was nothing to lose, and thought that even giving them away had to be better than taking up space in my office. I gave myself a hard time. I struggled with the "what if"s, but i was stubborn enough to not give up.
Things are a bit different now. Not because all i touch turns to gold, but because i have a method...a process. I'm experienced now, so the fear is assuaged. I still wonder about failure, but each time i release something new, i remind myself that the only failure is to do nothing. If i end up getting stuck with a few boxes full of CDs, well hey!! So what! I'll always have a gift to give to a stranger. And what better gift to give is there that a part of yourself.
We live in an era where we can't make up the excuses we used to. Anything is possible. We generally have access to the tools to make this project happen, but it's fraught with the pain of "what if". What if it doesn't sell, what if i get bad reviews, what if I'm rejected? But here's the thing...nothing in this world is guaranteed. There is no water-tight solution for success.
And what is success? I measure success in the ability to create something out of nothing, regardless of whether hoards of people come flocking. How many times have you heard of artists struggling all their lives, only to be recognised after their deaths because of their extraordinary contribution to the world culture? How many films have been dismally received only to become cult icons decades later? And how many cds have had no airplay, yet warm the hearts of a few? I told myself at the beginning of my career that if i could touch the heart of one human being, and move them to make a change for the better, my work was done. Then i read my first fan letter, a stranger whom i didn't know changed his life because he was inspired. I was moved so deeply that my heart cried, and i made an oath to myself that my work had only just begun.
I remember the angst of creating my first independent release. The decision seemed agonising, but i knew it had to be done. I owed it to my children, to lead by example, and i had always believed that being a closet artist was a selfish occupation. Being creative doesn't come easy to many, so the rest of us have an obligation to share what we do with humanity. I lent on that idea every step of the way. I had to learn how to keep myself out of the way.
My first boxes of CDs sat in a cupboard for many moons. I had no idea what to do next, so for a long while i did almost nothing. Then i decided there was nothing to lose, and thought that even giving them away had to be better than taking up space in my office. I gave myself a hard time. I struggled with the "what if"s, but i was stubborn enough to not give up.
Things are a bit different now. Not because all i touch turns to gold, but because i have a method...a process. I'm experienced now, so the fear is assuaged. I still wonder about failure, but each time i release something new, i remind myself that the only failure is to do nothing. If i end up getting stuck with a few boxes full of CDs, well hey!! So what! I'll always have a gift to give to a stranger. And what better gift to give is there that a part of yourself.
Saturday, June 20, 2009
Artist or Fraud?
During the early days of my career (which i identify as being during my early 20's), i was just starting to find the courage to label myself a composer. This was a huge step for me psychologically because although i was working as a professional musician, writing music for film and dance projects and performing regularly, i lived in this fear than sooner-or-later i was going to be caught-out as a fraud!
It's a big word, FRAUD. It has all kinds of connotations with it, and the whole concept has a dirty vibe to it. That's what i felt. Like my dirty secret would eventually get out, and I'd be exposed as nothing more than a pretender, a fake, a low-life wanna-be. Pretty intense, hey. Yet people were paying me good money to write and perform music, i was getting great reviews, the projects i was working on received world-wide acclaim, there were awards and interviews....how was this possible if i was faking it?
So intense were my feelings, that i began to ask a few close artist friends whom i had the greatest creative respect for, "do you ever feel like you're a fake?". Unexpectedly they ALL said yes, each one of them reacting to the question with a sense of relief that they could finally talk about it. I discovered that not only was i not alone in my own feelings, but that this mindset was prevalent in creative vocations. There is an unspoken fear that eventually the artist will be sprung, and they would be forced back to the depths where they belong. Most surprising of all was my discovery that the more talented the artist, the deeper those feelings appeared to run.
Begs the question "why", doesn't it. Well, i can only answer this by drawing from what others have shared with me, and through my own experiences. So here's my theory...
"Talented" artists (we'll leave the discussion of what talent is for another time), often start out in a less traditional way. For example, I'm a self-taught musician, only taking lessons in music to sharpen up my skills and perceptions of my art form as a young adult. This leaves the door wide open to feel less validated and uncredited. Also, music to me comes so naturally...practically effortless. It's so enjoyable, it feels like there is no work involved in it, because most people class work as being something that one has to strive over and struggle with. Music also exposes a passion in me, one that is self-perpetuating...the more music I'm making, the more music i feel inspired to make. Plus, making music kinda gives me a high. All in all, it's such an enjoyable and easy process, fun and passion-invoking, that i feel like i must be cheating somehow.
I remember feeling this way when i used to improvise song arrangements on the piano as a kid to pop songs. I'd listen to a song a few times, and that was all I'd need. My friends would often need a few weeks working on it, but i seemed to already know it. I'd also just start singing harmonies to songs i barely knew...and knew no one else who could do that. i must have been cheating. I felt like i was, because i seemed to already know the answers. It makes perfect logical sense, except that of course there was no cheating involved, and no fraud...there was no deception.
It's about time that we as a society accepted that work doesn't need to be soul-destroying in order for it to be valid. We don't need to hate our jobs, our boss, and ourselves in order to show we work hard, and only then deserve some kind of return. And what is that term "working hard" all about anyway? Isn't "working well" a better description? Surely being effective is better than being hard. And if something comes naturally, isn't that a good thing? So many fantastic artists i have seen don't market themselves, believing their work can only be a hobby because it's something they love to do. DOH??!!
If reading this has struck a truth in you, then chances are that you have something you do that comes naturally and easily to you. It's called talent, not fraud. It's real, and humanity need you to share it, not keep it locked up in your closet. If you need to share how you feel, let it out now, don't wait 'til you're on your death-bed with a suitcase full of regrets. It's perfectly natural to feel this way, but don't let it ruin your journey.
Embrace your potential.
Express yourself.
Expose that which comes easy...because for so many other people, what you do takes hard work.
Your natural abilities are more valuable than any certificate you could ever get in your life...EVER!!
It's a big word, FRAUD. It has all kinds of connotations with it, and the whole concept has a dirty vibe to it. That's what i felt. Like my dirty secret would eventually get out, and I'd be exposed as nothing more than a pretender, a fake, a low-life wanna-be. Pretty intense, hey. Yet people were paying me good money to write and perform music, i was getting great reviews, the projects i was working on received world-wide acclaim, there were awards and interviews....how was this possible if i was faking it?
So intense were my feelings, that i began to ask a few close artist friends whom i had the greatest creative respect for, "do you ever feel like you're a fake?". Unexpectedly they ALL said yes, each one of them reacting to the question with a sense of relief that they could finally talk about it. I discovered that not only was i not alone in my own feelings, but that this mindset was prevalent in creative vocations. There is an unspoken fear that eventually the artist will be sprung, and they would be forced back to the depths where they belong. Most surprising of all was my discovery that the more talented the artist, the deeper those feelings appeared to run.
Begs the question "why", doesn't it. Well, i can only answer this by drawing from what others have shared with me, and through my own experiences. So here's my theory...
"Talented" artists (we'll leave the discussion of what talent is for another time), often start out in a less traditional way. For example, I'm a self-taught musician, only taking lessons in music to sharpen up my skills and perceptions of my art form as a young adult. This leaves the door wide open to feel less validated and uncredited. Also, music to me comes so naturally...practically effortless. It's so enjoyable, it feels like there is no work involved in it, because most people class work as being something that one has to strive over and struggle with. Music also exposes a passion in me, one that is self-perpetuating...the more music I'm making, the more music i feel inspired to make. Plus, making music kinda gives me a high. All in all, it's such an enjoyable and easy process, fun and passion-invoking, that i feel like i must be cheating somehow.
I remember feeling this way when i used to improvise song arrangements on the piano as a kid to pop songs. I'd listen to a song a few times, and that was all I'd need. My friends would often need a few weeks working on it, but i seemed to already know it. I'd also just start singing harmonies to songs i barely knew...and knew no one else who could do that. i must have been cheating. I felt like i was, because i seemed to already know the answers. It makes perfect logical sense, except that of course there was no cheating involved, and no fraud...there was no deception.
It's about time that we as a society accepted that work doesn't need to be soul-destroying in order for it to be valid. We don't need to hate our jobs, our boss, and ourselves in order to show we work hard, and only then deserve some kind of return. And what is that term "working hard" all about anyway? Isn't "working well" a better description? Surely being effective is better than being hard. And if something comes naturally, isn't that a good thing? So many fantastic artists i have seen don't market themselves, believing their work can only be a hobby because it's something they love to do. DOH??!!
If reading this has struck a truth in you, then chances are that you have something you do that comes naturally and easily to you. It's called talent, not fraud. It's real, and humanity need you to share it, not keep it locked up in your closet. If you need to share how you feel, let it out now, don't wait 'til you're on your death-bed with a suitcase full of regrets. It's perfectly natural to feel this way, but don't let it ruin your journey.
Embrace your potential.
Express yourself.
Expose that which comes easy...because for so many other people, what you do takes hard work.
Your natural abilities are more valuable than any certificate you could ever get in your life...EVER!!
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