These days sometimes I feel like a real nothing, the rankest of amateurs, a child among grown-ups (or maybe a teenager in the most repellent stages of teenageness — since people tend to like children). I look at my writing and I think it’s miserable, meaningless, and anyway I’m not generating enough of it. I look at the marks I make on paper — I don’t even feel like I can call them paintings or sketches — and they seem so crude and babyish I just want to throw my head back and howl… or bury my face and not come out again until I’ve thought of something else to do with myself.
I’m not depressed, I’m not really being self-critical. Yes you are, I hear you say, but no: I’ve done that, and this doesn’t feel like that; it comes from a different place, a more dispassionate place. It’s simply that I’m struck all afresh with that giant gap between what I want to do and what I’m actually capable of achieving in this moment. I know why: it’s because I’ve been absorbing so much new art lately, from Man with a Blue Scarf to Pina to Carla’s vibrant paintings and art books; my eyes are making huge leaps beyond the small skill my hands can muster. (Remember that Ira Glass quote?)
Awhile back I was reading an intelligent book — I can’t remember which one right now but I think it may have been Women Don’t Ask — and it had this brilliant piece of advice: don’t make inappropriate comparisons. I am 30 and an untrained artist; I’ve only been painting for a little more than a year. Anyway since we are all unique, with unique experiences, in some sense all comparisons are inappropriate. But I always forget this when I discover some new artist whose work awes me into hating my own.
Always, always, always, there is only one solution, and that is DO THE WORK. Must remember. Do the work. “Action is the antidote to despair.” (Joan Baez)
I immediately thought of the Ira Glass quote as I read this. Glad you mentioned it. It feels so important that we don’t forget it. Every time I read a writer who’s as good as I want to be, there it goes again — me wanting to be there already. Sometimes it’s hard to calm those feelings down, even as I do the work.
I know, I know! Agonizing sometimes. I love the Glass quote because it’s so matter-of-fact about recognizing this agony as part of the process. There’s another quote that encourages me, too (don’t remember if I’ve mentioned it before): “When you feel global doubt about your talent, that is your talent. People who have no talent don’t have any doubt.” –Richard Bausch in Off the Page: Writers Talk about Beginnings, Endings, and Everything in Between
I know what you mean, about seeing, or reading someone else’s work and it’s amazing and you think you’ll never be able to produce anything quite as good. I was thinking of the Ira Glass quote too, as I read this post. I like his idea that the reason we know our work could be better is because we have such good taste. It really makes me feel better.
It makes me feel loads better, too. It’s so encouraging, both to keep going and also to not think we have nothing to offer because we’re not great yet.
I wish there was some way for me to simply appreciate others’ talent without having it involve my own talents. I don’t know of any way to separate the two. Sometimes I imagine that if I were “successful” i.e. already “valued” (can of worms, don’t get me started), then I would be able to simply appreciate without comparison. But I suspect that is not true.
There’s that fine line between being inspired by others and feeling squelched. How to lean in the other direction?
I think you’re fabulous. Can’t wait to see what you’ll do next. xoox
Heh, I think I’ve got that same worm-can sitting on my shelf too! How ’bout that! And I’m with you — I too suspect the comparison game never ends. Sigh. That should be solid evidence in favor of just stopping making comparisons, but not like that will ever happen.
I think you’re fabulous too, and thank you ever so much for saying so. 🙂
I think I can lean more confidently in the direction of inspiration (as opposed to depression) if I’m also making a lot of my own work and feeling robust in my own perspective/uniqueness/productivity. It’s much easier to feel like a failure when I’m behind on my work, in addition to sucking horribly (IMO). 😉
Ahhhh. I have no idea how we always seem to be grappling with similar things, but I’m so glad you shared this post. Goofy confession: I was flipping through a book called Matthew Robbins’ Inspired Weddings a few nights ago, and I started getting these crazy butterflies in my stomach (angry woodchucks is more like it), my heart was pounding, and I felt like I wanted to run around the block ten times (although laziness prevailed and I sat in my anxiety instead). All this from a wedding book, and no, I’m not planning a wedding nor do I really even give a crap about weddings.
The “problem”? The photos were so damn amazing (and they were of that bird’s eye, everything-organized-and-seen-from-above style that we both love) that I was flooded with the feeling that if I couldn’t start creating work more worthy of photos like that AND developing my meager skills as a photographer so I could capture images like that, like, immediately, then I might go insane. The urge to just “be amazing, already!” gets so strong sometimes that I feel like I’m splitting out of a shell, but I suppose that’s exactly what brings me back to my studio every day.
And I know you know this already, but even in the relatively short time that I’ve known you, your work has grown and developed in so many wonderful ways–it’s been so awesome to watch. All this to say that 1) I totally get where you’re coming from and 2) you have boundless talent that is uniquely yours.
Aahhhh, Mo, I know exactly the thoughts and sensations you describe!! (And I LOVE the image of angry woodchucks in the stomach. Owwww. Calm down, rodent friends!) And you make a great point: we can feel terrible about our capacities even when it comes to experts in fields which are not our fields! I guess that would be the whole “global doubt” thing. ;b
Thank you immensely for your really thoughtful words of encouragement. 🙂 I feel the same way about you and your work! And thank you for bringing the focus back onto “growth and development” because that’s what this all is: a process.
I understand completely how we are our own worst critic. But I have to say you blew me away when you wrote that you’d only been painting a year. All the talent I have seen in your watercolors, and in only twelve months? I assumed you had a lifetime of practice because of the talent. Cut yourself some slack; your fingers will catch up with what your soul wants. And at this rate probably soon! Also, have you looked back at the very first things you painted in order to judge your progress? Be kind to yourself, honor what you have done and where you are in your artist path, and then pick up the brush.
Aww, thank you, Lisa! Well, I don’t know that it’s twelve months — let me see… I started in late summer 2010. So it’s probably more like nineteen months. 😉 But point taken! I think I’m better than most beginning watercolorists because of my long experience in drawing, but that takes us back to my gripe about my paintings: they’re basically colored-in drawings, not paintings that take full advantage of the medium. But you’re right; I need to honor more kindly what I’ve done so far. Criticizing my work is like a parent blaming a kid for not learning fast enough. Thank you for your wisdom and compassion!
“…whose work awes me into hating my own.” I love this line! It says it all. I’m sitting stuck in my own anxiety to borrow Mo’s words because I have more than way too much going on and I’m in despair mode. I’ll never this…, I’ll never that…
Thanks for writing. I’m going to get out of bed now. 😀
Hope you got out of bed and had a grand productive day. 🙂 Don’t you wish there were some easy on-off switch for despair mode?! (Not that we’d ever use the “on” setting!)
I’ve been thinking about you today and your crazy-busy month. Loving thoughts to you.
Loving thoughts to you as well. As I get older, I realize that I do not enjoy traveling as much. Or for as long periods. On Day 3 of this trip. I will be back sooner than planned. changed my flight.
Safe travels, and hope I’ll get to see you soon. 🙂 ❤
ahhh! I wish I had read this last week :). I had been feeling this all last week and especially over the weekend. I kept looking at Mike’s fotofest pieces and then looking at my (incomplete) pieces and I felt COMPLETELY inadequate and discouraged and wanting to quit my pieces all over again. I had no reason to, though (as I determined at the end of a frustrating weekend), since we were 2 artists with completely different skill sets, making completely different pieces. Not possible to compare.
Also, you call yourself an untrained artist, but your pieces of art never cease to amaze me. Your hands create some beautiful work. I’m not just saying that!
Aaaahhhh, Alison, I TOTALLY hear you on your discouragement, and I am so glad I got to see the results of what you did after you moved through it. 🙂 I agree: you can’t compare your work to Mike’s photography! Not that I don’t do the same thing, constantly… but we know better when we’re not freaking out. 🙂 I love your pieces and wish I could be in Houston to see them hanging up. 🙂 In fact… I see your whole life and home as a beautiful creation; I think a lot of people move through their lives without giving real consideration to what they want in this existence, but I feel that you and Mike are making your lives into something lovely. I admire you. 🙂
Thank you for the encouragement. It means a lot to know you think so much of my work!!
HI lisa ! Thanks for the link. I was surprised, I don’t know how to do that,But I have a blogger for you to check out,http://throughthewindslope.wordpress.com/ After you have been travelig you may end up seeing this tiger 🙂 My advice to you about watercolor – don’t take lessons.. As someone said to me it wil ruin you, You are painting just fine. Keep going.
Thank you so much, Carla! I’ll check out the blog. 🙂
I’m so glad to hear you say that about watercolor lessons. I’ve been reallllly hesitant to take art classes (at least the “serious instruction” kind; I don’t mind the more open, freestyle studios I’ve been doing) for that very reason; I know I have a tendency to give in to others’ authority and I’d hate to have a painting teacher turn my work into something else. I’ll refer to books when needed, and as you say, keep going. Thank you for the backup. 🙂
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