FEBRUARY! ALREADY! How’re you doing, lovely people? Staying safe and warm and all of that good stuff? I’ve had my nose buried in my work all month, next thing I know we’re already into the second month of the new year. February’s usually the snowiest, most hot cocoa-y month where I live so I’m counting on some intense coziness ahead and hopefully some nice restful days as I wrap up some projects. That being said, I want to encourage you to take a breather with me just now, maybe grab your favorite warm drink, and keep me company while I take a break from the art cave ramble a bit about…well, art.
I’d originally written about a different subject entirely for this month but ended up casting it into the drafts for a rainy day and starting fresh with something that feels a bit more current and relevant to my creative thinking these past few weeks. So! Using last month’s talk as a bit of a springboard, I wanted to dig deeper into some of those points and touch on little talks with yourself, following your instincts, and essentially shushing your inner critic as well as just…all the noise inhibiting your creative flow. It might come off a bit corny, a bit sappy—but it’s where I am right now, and I can’t help but feel that I’m not alone here. Something refreshing about art is that no matter whether you’re a beginner or have decades of experience, we’re essentially all in same boat in many respects.
Since some current projects are coming to a close, I’ve found myself thinking about my future endeavors in terms of my work both personally and professionally: what it means, what feels right, and the direction I want to steer it in. It had been so long since I actually sat down and really thought about why I do what I do and where I want it to go from here. It was confusing and I felt so intimidated by the future, by creating art itself, and all of my thoughts become a jumbled mess. That’s when I noticed that my creative instincts and natural incentive to make art were (I say “were”, but it’s still something I’m wrestling with) being muted by the loud, harsh voices of my inner critic and self-doubt telling me to stay in the safe zone, stay consistent, check what everyone else is doing, avoid making mistakes AT ALL COSTS, this looks too much/not enough like everyone else’s work…it goes on and on. Suddenly, doubt and insecurity start to pilfer the joy of creating. It becomes a stressful and confusing experience because our own voice and instinct is being drowned out by all the noise. We find ourselves with the free time to work on the projects we’ve been longing for, but now we just feel…nervous. Lost. We’re faced with the blank page or that WIP we were so excited about and for some reason it’s unbearably nerve-wracking to carry on because of the voices of our inner critic, societal pressures, in some cases even our peers, etc. all saying “you can’t”, “that’s stupid”, “it looks awful”, “why’re you doing it that way?”. The sooner we start digging to strip away all of the layers we’ve built up of fear of judgement, worry, doubt, overthinking, etc., the sooner we can get at the root of who we really are as creatives and what our instincts are telling us (everyone has them, you don’t need to gain anything in order to find them. It’s about losing what you don’t need).
For some of us, the “soul” or core of our art might stem from a combination of things: deep memories and feelings, our ethics, our experiences, our childhood (especially so if kidlit is your passion), the same things that make us so uniquely ourselves. It’s also what makes our art truly an individual and fulfilling experience, if we acknowledge and then shush all the other voices and learn to let the important ones guide our workflow and create healthy habits in our mental process. It might sound cheesy but something that’s helped me pin down what I want to create and why is hypothetically sitting down with myself and having a little mental talk, asking myself questions about why I started drawing in the first place and what fuels me to keep doing it. Maybe it’s the feeling you get when you’re looking at your favorite picture books and a tiny voice says I want to do this too, maybe it’s the overwhelming urge to capture something we’re seeing in our lives, in nature, and so on. In doing so it’s almost as though I moved a step further in my art journey, because I remembered drawing as a kid and how much freer it felt…something I’m trying to incorporate into my practice now is honoring that little girl and unlearn some of the habits that stamp out the childlike joy of drawing. Sometimes it doesn’t matter whether a piece is good or bad under our critical scrutiny, it simply has to be. Reminding myself of this for the past couple of weeks (or trying to anyway) has actually propelled me through certain pieces that I would likely have given up on midway through. The minute I stop and look at the unfinished painting, that’s when the critical voice is loudest. So, I keep going, often falling down but recovering one way or another, and don’t give myself time to question whether it’s good or bad. Of course okay to stop and start over or think “I could do this better” and try again, just don’t let skepticism pull you into the overthinking cycle.
Get to know yourself
This is important, and not often as easy as it sounds. Incorporating your personality and interests makes your art a unique extension of yourself as a person thus cultivating a love of creating and kindling sparks into a flame, much like the childlike joy I just mentioned. What makes you come alive? What give you that this is it, this feels right kind of feeling when looking at your work? What sort of creative energy do you want to emulate? I’ve found these to be really helpful leads to follow when I feel stuck. I think of these things, and it conjures a sort of mental image of myself in the future, drawing for myself, for books, for my shop, paying no heed to any inner voice questioning whether it’s good or bad or unoriginal or stupid. That’s the creative flow I’m striving for, hopefully getting a liiiiiittle bit closer as I work to unlearn habits that don’t serve my art or myself and listening close to the ones that do.
So maybe this helps inspire you, if you’re currently struggling, to step back and check in with yourself, acknowledge where you seem to be getting stuck in your practice, and try to break the cycle to get back into that flow (or noticing that it’s time for a good rest!) In the end, I find that authenticity and feeling is so much more important to me than whether or not a drawing is good or bad….it simply exists as it is.
So that’s it for now, I think! Next are just some not-so-art-related things, monthly favorites and so on. I hope you all have a wonderful February; may it be cozy as can be!
bits and pieces to share
The stunning crochet leaf art by Susanna Bauer. I stumbled upon this piece on Pinterest a few weeks ago and was absolutely amazed, I’m pretty certain it’s the coolest thing I’ve ever seen.
Re-reading Little Women by Louisa May Alcott for the umpteenth time…then losing my nerve and stopping right before it gets sad. It’s been weeks and it’s still glowering at me from my bedside dresser.
Listening to Creative Pep Talk! I was looking for a new podcast to try and found this one, if you’re a creative and haven’t listened yet I highly recommend.
I finally, finally watched Luca and it did not disappoint - it felt like summer and childhood and everything right in the world. And also really makes me want pesto pasta.
One Second Everyday, an app I’d heard about and decided to try. I’ve been taking tiny, one second videos every day and uploading them to make a sort of video scrapbook of this year. I’ve kept up with it so far, and I’ve found it’s helped inspire me to look for and capture tiny, wonderful, ordinary moments in everyday life.
Thank you so everyone who subscribed to my newsletter already! Seeing your names and discovering how much you care really warms my heart, your support and interest truly means the world to me. I hope I can continue to bring you a bit of joy or inspiration every month and look forward to March!
Love, Taryn