Never Forget What It's About

It's 10 P.M. on a weekday night. I'm working on in my college's modest arts building. Dilapidated, messy, art supplies everywhere, looks like it's been repurposed 10 times. And I have it all to myself. I didn't like hanging out in my dorm room... the desk felt too cramped, and I felt like I needed psychic space to work on my art.

The old drawing classroom

I had a pastel piece tacked up to the wall. My art professor told me that was his favorite part, when the piece was getting close to finished he'd stand further back and just take it in. I took his advice and paced around, getting a look at it from all angles. I touched it up here and there while the acid jazz melodies of Jamiroquai played throughout the room. I was content, free of self-consciousness. This was the ZONE.

That was over 10 years ago. I don't even remember what piece I was working on or if I still have it somewhere. Every so often, when I'm bored or sentimental these memories will come up. I've had about 5 different jobs since then, been to a bunch of different countries, fell into despair, and somehow gotten myself out of it. And yet art stays a constant in my life.

I think this is important. To live the creative life is a practice. It's something we have to navigate every day. I had ideas about where I was going and where art was going to take me. Then it turned out to be completely different. I wanted to quit many times and put away these brushes. Sometimes they brought me more pain than joy. It sucked to have ideas and feel like nothing was good enough. It hurt to make compromises, or to hear critical feedback.

I used to fear all those uncomfortable feelings, I wanted to think them away, outsmart them. I read books on how to get past my art blocks. I tried to learn so much about art that I'd become so good at it I'd never have to feel bad again - or so I thought. It was almost like I wanted to become a machine.

To me that's sad, but it's the culture we live in. It's a culture of half-truths and incomplete solutions. Getting a job in the art industry or showing at a gallery isn't the main point (Not to say it isn't exciting to achieve these things.) I believe we have to make compromises and commodify our work some to make a living in the present. Having vision or passion doesn't pay the rent. But if I made the sale the core of who I was an artist (which I have tried to do before), I'd lose something.

Caught this guy appreciating art in Mexico City

 

So I go back to those moments when I was in the zone, living for the creation. I remember how it felt to be in my first drawing class - I was so excited to shade a cube! I even go back to our past and feel the work of cave painters, a moody creator like JMW Turner, and some crazy outsider  create, be curious, and share with the community. A trip to the museum, cracking open a dusty art book, or a enjoying a mindless doodle sets me right.

So, from one creator to another:

Never forget what it's about, remember why you started.