THE FREEDOM TO FAIL

Can you imagine what it might feel like to have full permission, complete freedom, to fail? What might it feel like to be able to approach something new with the awareness that failure is just a normal part of learning, and means that you're pushing into new territory, gathering helpful information as you do? What would it be like to meet our creative work, our problems, and our wild ideas with an attitude of full-on curiosity…expecting failure as a natural matter of course, not something to avoid at all costs? How might this acceptance of failure change your approach to art-making – to your life?

Many of us, myself included, have formed an unhealthy relationship to failure. For me, it was always something to be ashamed of. It meant I wasn’t good enough, smart enough, or didn’t try hard enough. When I was faced with new things to learn and try, there was always an overwhelming feeling of pressure. Would I look like a fool? Would I be judged for my first attempt in learning? With those kinds of thoughts running in the background, I would stay in my comfort zone more often than not, and miss out on many wonderful adventures - the kind that life offers us in abundance. 

I tended to do the things I knew I could do, the things I was good at, the things that would help me maintain the identity of being good, successful, and competent. I became quite perfectionistic…making very sure that all the details were right and everything looked good. Often I would stand in the illusion that this wasn’t fear of failure, that these were my high standards that I was meeting, and was challenged with letting go of control. Control equaled safety, acceptance, and love.

As I write this now, I am aware of the deep burden this was to carry – the pressure and limits that I constantly placed on myself – the rigidness of living this way. While there were some benefits, the costs were high and I often overworked myself to remain in this position. All of it to avoid the feelings of shame that would descend when I floundered or failed at something. Making a mistake would feel like my world might end.

Later in life, when I committed to making my art full time and attended art school, I bumped up hard against this unhealthy relationship to failure. I was now in an environment where failure was baked into the process – the creative process. But, I didn’t fully understand that and it wasn’t too long before things switched from learning modality to performing – I needed to be good at this, and quickly.

Art had other plans for me. 

After graduating, with the imagined benchmark of having completed all I needed to know about art-making, I began the slow descent into creative anxiety and angst. The internal guiding rule I was following was that everything I made had to be a success, otherwise it was evidence of my inability as an artist. Failure meant I was a bad artist, without a focus, without the skill or talent, without a future. It was like moving mountains to get me into the studio. Facing the avalanche of feelings was too much for me most days, and I had no path to follow, no idea how to help myself. I didn’t know that I needed to companion my fear of failure. This certainly wasn’t something that I learned in art school.

When we recognize the true value of failure in the creative process, we give ourselves the ultimate freedom. What would you make, create, or do if you knew that failing at it was the way forward and the only way to achieve what you are envisioning for yourself? If we had an attitude of “let’s try and see what happens” we’d be jumping in with both feet, curious and open to what we could discover for ourselves. Failure then becomes a guiding force. It shows us where to go next, how to improve, what else to try. It’s simply a part of the process - an important and welcome part. 

It is said that there is tremendous learning in failure, and that we learn very little from our successes. So, how do we fail better? How can we find a place within ourselves that can allow failure to be a good thing, and not something to be avoided at all costs?

When we know better, we do better. The first step we can take is to reframe our understanding of what failure offers us, and how essential it is for the creative process and our development as artists. We need to consciously choose how we will relate to our failures when they come, perhaps even set-up situations where we will fail just to exercise our failure muscles, becoming failure resilient.

We can spend some time unpacking our own mental constructs around failure – what story do we carry about failure? How might this story be impacting our ability to take risks in our art-making? What would you create if you knew that you could not actually fail, in the ways you have imagined failure in the past? What is the new story you can write about failure and what it means for you?

Have your dance with failure. Invite it into the studio with you and let it show you the power it has to free you from the burden of “not good enough.” Failure is the way to amp up your art-making. It is the opening you’re looking for. When you give yourself full permission to fail, any attempts you make are beautiful experiments in innovating and discovery. Take what is valuable from the experience and let the rest go, without any shame baggage or inner narratives.

And if, like me, avoiding failure has been a lifelong focus, then know that it will take some time to find your way with this, but it will be worth it. Stay committed to understanding this relationship between the creative process and failure. You will be freed by this in ways you had not imagined possible.

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