If I stopped creating it would mean certain death. Maybe I’m being a little dramatic, but for me it is true on an existential level. All artists face fear at some point. Creating art and having fears are both equal parts of the human experience. For the creative mind fear can manifest in many ways including fear of being a sham, of not having the talent, or of failure (a topic I will cover more thoroughly in my next post). Perhaps one of the most frightening and sobering fears an artist can face is the fear of quitting.
My art has been who I am as far back as I can remember. I had always known I wanted to fulfill my life by being creative. As I grew older I began to question if my drawings could really be considered art. I wondered if I was just kidding myself. When I found it difficult to find my own personal style, it was as though I had no voice. I doubted my originality and my skill.
I had been drawing for so long that my sense of self had become entwined with my art. As my artistic block set in, self doubt naturally followed. To question my originality as an artist was like questioning everything that I was. If I did not possess the magical gift to create beautiful masterpieces then maybe I was nothing.
The more time I spent searching for this magical gift within myself, the more discouraged I became. Soon enough finding the courage to draw became unbearingly difficult. Each drawing was a new piece of evidence that I didn’t have what it takes to be an artist. I couldn’t face my lack of original thought or lack of skill. I couldn’t face myself. So, I stopped. What came next was worse than any fear I had ever faced. My hands ached with a desire that my personal demons would not let me satisfy. My heart mourned for the death of my passion. The need to be creative never went away, but I stopped all the same. In the process I began to lose myself.
In an attempt to hold onto what was left of me, I desperately clung to my hobbies of sewing and jewelry making. It would sooth the ache in my hands for a time, but it wasn’t the same. I had always expressed myself through drawing. Pencil and paper was my first language. Arts and crafts was a language I knew well, but it would never feel as natural or expressive to me. In the end it was the fear of completely losing myself that brought me back from the ashes. If I quit, who will I be?
It might be unhealthy to place so much of myself within my craft, but I’ve heard it said that to be an artist is to be a little insane. In Art & Fear by David Bayles and Ted Orland they call it fear of annihilation. You may have seen this fear manifest in some of your artist friends that will obsessively pump out an abundant quantity of work. It is when an artist puts so much of their self worth in their ability to produce art that not working is equatable to a metaphorical death. Perhaps one day I might be able to find a happy balance between self perseverance and art making. For now I prefer the motivation. Today I choose to live.