I spent the morning with imposter syndrome. It started with no ideas or inspiration, I felt so empty and flat. Utterly unmotivated, I had no clue of where to start. My weekend is usually the time to get some creative work done, but this morning, that routine felt dead to me.
When I get this way, a voice inside me starts picking away at my creative confidence and pushes me far to the edge of my artistic identity. It tells me that I’m not an artist, never was one and never will be! Real artists have a continuous flow of ideas and are constantly fired up about what they are creating next. They don’t spend time staring into space or looking around for inspiration, finding nothing worth capturing. If I was a proper artist, I would be jumping at every opportunity to make stuff, to paint, explore, research and experiment. Artists are energetic and passionate, self-sacrificing machines who churn out piece after piece, it says. There’s no time for doubt or self sabotage in the artist’s world. That’s for losers! Like me!
Aargh! This makes me stall so often before starting. I can get really stuck. When I do, this cretinous whinge-bag takes hold. It calls me ‘lazy’ and ‘boring’. It’s so familiar, this unfriendly inner inhabitant. This creative collaborator has been present my whole artistic life. I’ve managed to make art anyway in spite of it. With practice, I’ve become better at silencing this stupid little voice, but this morning, it was really quite convincing. I sat in my studio chair looking from the window to the shelf, to the clutter of art supplies strewn across my desk and floor. What a mess. Why am I sitting here? I should tidy up if anything…
As I started putting things back one by one into their designated places, it struck me that I’ve drawn my messy art space before. Maybe I could revisit that topic? I started looked through last year’s sketchbook and found it.
I made this piece in 2022, after spending a day making art on the floor. Instead of taking a keepsake photograph, I drew the mess instead. I was that much in the flow. When I was done, I tidied the materials away into their storage boxes and put them under my desk. A year on, I have bought a trolley for my art materials. It’s better than rummaging through boxes every time I want to make something. I’m trying to make it all more accessible for myself after all. Not all my materials fit on it, but I keep the things I use regularly on it.
After pondering my rejuvenated appreciation of the trolley, I sat down to draw it. A fine liner pen was used to draw a continuous line, i.e. not taking the pen off the page until it is finished. I nearly gave up half way through as I noticed the perspective was off. At the end of a half hour break away from it, I liked it again. It took around an hour to draw in total, and then another hour to paint and annotate.
Looking at the difference in both drawings, I can certainly see an improvement of quality in the second one. Though, it’s not about which one is technically better. Each piece holds significance for me. I made both drawings from vastly opposed mindsets. One whilst buzzing with creativity, and the other whilst devoid of inspiration. The first one was quick and fuelled with my delight having spent the day making art. The second one took all my will to get through it.
I’ve got to keep reminding myself:
- The process of creativity is unpredictable and surprising. If you don’t put the work into what you want to make, you’ll miss out on all sorts of surprises. Start with a small task and it will grow and develop into something bigger.
- When you’re stuck, try shifting the energy a bit. Tidy your space, move your body, hum a tune, meditate.
- Don’t entertain the sabotaging inner voice. It’s going to talk nonsense whether you do the work or not. It’s trying to distract you. Practice tuning out and centring your focus.
- Look over past work to see the progress you have made. The creative path is ongoing. It is a journey of learning that will continue if you let it.
- Document the process. Future you might need it for inspiration.