SAYING GOODBYE TO 2020

How do we say goodbye to a year like no other? How do our typical seasonal rituals of taking stock of the past year and making resolutions for the year ahead fit for us, given all we’ve been through together?

I’m sure there are many others considering this right now. Perhaps others are drafting similar blogs and trying to offer words of comfort or inspiration. But this year, everything we counted on and had come to expect was turned on its head, so why should we employ the same approaches to sending off 2020 and welcoming in 2021?

Yes, we want to return to feeling hopeful and as if things are returning to normal, but what is normal after all this? And, do we really want to return to that perceived normal? I do know we need hope to survive, so that is a worthy area to connect with during this transition out of 2020.

As an artist I spend a great deal of time in contemplation and disrupting so-called “normal.” I also negotiate the space of uncertainty on a regular basis, as the creative process is filled with unknowns and imminent failures. I work with quieting fear, as both an artist and as a coach to other artists. But 2020 brought forward a new level of fear for us. It brought forward instability, mistrust, inequality, hatred, and too much suffering and loss. It also brought forward courage, fortitude, patience and compassion. It really just depended on what you were looking at and paying attention to, as all of it was there for us to see.

2020 gave us a type of wake-up call that shook loose some of our belief systems and asked us to question what our lives are about and for. It may be some time before we are able to look back with dispassionate, curious eyes and see the truth of this time and experience the learning it may have to offer us. For now, we stay the course, manage as best we can and, as much as possible, accept what we cannot change...but change what we can. Using our discernment and wisdom to know the difference.

In thinking about how I might construct my own ritual for this marker in time – the arrival of a New Year – celebration doesn't feel quite right. I’ve been asking myself, “What, exactly would I be celebrating?” While others may feel differently and are looking forward to ringing in the New Year with some joyful times, I’m noticing that I feel more reflective and like I want to learn something from all we’ve been through this past year. I often reflect on the year that is passing, but this time I feel as if I haven’t had enough distance just yet to do it in the same way I always do. But at this moment two words feel very present for me – curiosity and compassion.

I am curious to lean into the lessons of 2020. And, I am meeting myself with the deepest compassion for my attempts at processing something so profoundly life altering. I’m not likely to “get it” at this time – and perhaps never will – but I will begin the pursuit anyway, because that feels like forward movement. And as the writer and poet Victoria Erickson says so eloquently:

“Remember forward movement. Forward is the way of trust. Forward is the way of forgiveness. Forward is the way of action. Forward is the way of healing. Forward is essentially the way of life.”

In an attempt to begin to assimilate some of what is changing within me as everything around me has changed, I have decided to write a letter to 2020.

Dear 2020,

You have unsettled me and challenged me in ways I haven’t had to experience before. You opened up wounds for me and for others. You called me to realize even more deeply the fragile condition of our humanness. You dealt blow after blow of “shit storm” crazy that terrified me. You isolated those I love and caused them to suffer. You made us sick and brought forward how we respond when our most basic needs are threatened.

2020, you have caused belief systems to crack, institutions to fall, and the pain and suffering of others to be in our hands and our hearts. You’ve called us to our responsibility as an inhabitant of this planet, and you have reminded us that we don’t own anything. You have asked us to continue to hold space for each other, even when we didn’t know if we could hold it for ourselves.

Through all of this I have learned some things about myself, and I expect I’ll be learning much more. I have come to know that I have biases and privilege that I can be blind to. Truth is strange in how it can be altered by these beliefs and blind spots. I am grateful for this and will continue to remain aware of these places in me that instinctively protect and preserve what I believe to be true.

I have also learned that when I am stressed and in uncharted territory, old patterns reappear and bad habits reemerge. Rather than condemn myself for not doing better when I know better, I have learned to offer myself more compassion. I am a flawed human trying to function when I don’t know how just yet. I have learned that I can give myself a break.

There are all kinds of people in this world and we each believe that our way is the best way for us, otherwise we wouldn’t be doing what we’re doing. I have learned I can be judgemental of others, even as I practice not being so. When I can’t understand why someone would choose an action or path forward because it’s so different than what I might choose, I need to be curious as to their nature, and mine. When I judge, I close down curiosity. I can be of better help to myself and others when I understand more.

And there are harms acted upon others that deserve our righteous judgement. I have learned I can still stand up for my rights and the rights of others while remaining curious as to how we got here.

As we have all been looking for comfort in this stressful year, I have been reminded that this means different things to each of us. I love being alone but others don’t. Comfort is personal and I shouldn't project my idea of what comfort is onto others, but instead be curious about what helps them. As a coach I am very aware of the fact that my answers are mine, and not necessarily my client’s. Because of this, I can be better at helping  them to find their own answers. Putting aside my own ideas of comfort, I can create a space where self-help can be discovered in time. Patience and a willingness to remain in the discomfort of sitting with another’s suffering is what’s needed. I can be better at that.

When I am in pain, I need to stop and give to myself. Taking the time to move, create, dream and love is healing. The pain tells me I am out of balance and my body’s wisdom should be trusted over my mind. The mind is an endless taskmaster, always measuring, calculating and problem-solving. It is not the best advisor in times of suffering. I have learned to trust the messages from my body more than ever, and when I honour what it needs, the whole of me feels better.

2020, you have provided me  a whole other level of fear to work with this year, and I am grateful for the mindset work I do as an artist and a coach to help guide me through this time. I often speak of our fears being tied to our primal and primitive responses – fight, flight or freeze. For the most part the fears we encounter in the studio and our daily lives are not real fears that threaten us in the way that our brains were wired for, so we have an inappropriate response to them. But this year our lives actually felt threatened and I learned about our surge capacity and how that gets tapped out pretty fast in an on-going situation like this. I have learned what ambiguous loss feels like – loss that continually cycles us through the stages of grief as we endure another hit. I have learned that resilience is about softness as much as it is about strength. The softening of our hearts towards ourselves, when we just can’t manage, is the way through the next wave of loss.

Those that have experienced trauma in their lives are particularly challenged right now. We need to extend so much compassion to ourselves if that is part of our history, and to those around us who may not be coping as well with so much uncertainty. I have learned to meet myself where I am, not push away because I shouldn’t be here; to nurture the place in me that feels vulnerable and needs to know it’s safe to trust.

I am accepting that I am doing my best, and my best looks different on any given day. If my wells are dry, I need to replenish and I may not be at my best that day. Can my perfectionistic, people-pleasing nature accept that? I have learned that part of me likes to compare and then condemn me for not doing enough, not being more engaged, or not being super productive with this time and space that has arrived through repeated lockdowns and isolation. I am learning to tolerate the discomfort that I feel when I want to do so much more, but I simply can’t. I am learning to accept that this doesn’t make me a bad person and that I can effect change in other ways. I can gently pursue hopefulness even when, at times, I feel hopeless.

Perceptions form so much of our experience and artists love to call our perceptions into question. I am embracing this challenge for myself and asking, what if 2020 was a teacher for me? What if everything that has occurred is asking me to consider my perceptions of what is valuable and important? What do I want from myself, others, this life? Has 2020 brought that more clearly into focus for me?

I have learned that even as an artist and coach, and knowing the value of questioning our perceptions, I still long to be “right.” I am attached to my beliefs and systems of attributing value. If I give some of these up, what do I replace them with? In the in-between of letting go and new understanding, there is a vast cavern of disruption to what I give meaning to. I feel as if I am free-falling and I am most challenged at that time to trust.

And, I am re-establishing my relationship to trust – moving what I think trust is from an idea to an experience. For me, trust is knowing that I will be okay no matter what happens – that my ability to manage my internal mechanisms is strong and I can depend on that. This gives me the greatest hope. I will always be there for myself, doing the work I need to do to understand more and to extend compassion towards the struggle of my humanness.

I am accepting the truth that pain is inevitable in this life - it is the suffering that is our responsibility. We can, and should, feel deeply...our emotions are our built-in guidance system. When we trust ourselves to meet our feelings without shame or rejection, they guide us to our truth and help us grow. Our suffering is often in the rejection of those feelings; the outright denial that they exist for us, or that we shouldn’t have to experience what we’re experiencing. When something hurts us deeply, we feel the pain of it, and we take action where action is needed. The suffering occurs after, in what we do to ourselves through the repetition and recirculating of the hurtful event. It’s the endless playing of the tape, in a futile attempt to rewrite it, that causes us to suffer. Here, again, acceptance of our perfectly imperfect selves is so important.

So, 2020, perhaps we can meet you with heaps of compassion for all that we endured, uncovered, and experienced; for all that we learned and decided needs to change. And, like me, if you’re still sorting that out, then let 2020 teach you how to meet yourself where you are. Extend the most heartfelt compassion towards your fragile self that is struggling in the vast cavern of the unknown. You don’t have to know what it all means for you now, you just have to trust that you will in time.

Moving into 2021 there is only one word that feels relevant for me, and that is nurture. My only commitment that I am making for this New Year is to nurture – myself, others, the whole of everything that is occurring and has occurred. We heal when we are supported and nurtured, and it feels like, as we enter 2021, we could all use some healing.

I am committing to nurturing my life into fullness and connection, regardless of what might be occurring in the external world. My inner world is a respite and a place of restoration for me.

I am nurturing my creative spirit to soar beyond the limits of my mind. I easily shift and clear away any and all of the residual rules, limitations, and thought patterns that stall my process and cause me to doubt myself. And, I nurture myself when I am not able to do this in every moment.

I am nurturing my body to be stronger and more vibrant as it continues to change with age. I am listening to my body’s wisdom and trusting that guidance. More movement and space arrives as a result, which provides me with ample energy to meet whatever comes.

I commit to nurturing friendships, family and loved ones – both in how I give love to others and how I receive love. I will reach out for help when I need it, and not live in a false belief that my needs take up too much space for others. When I receive, I have more to give.

I am nurturing my relationship to time and how I use it. I nurture and create space – in my body, in my mind, and in my life. This space I create has a direct relationship to my experience of time. It slows when I become more present and speeds up when I lose connection to my truthful needs.

Because of all the ways in which I give to myself, I am able to help heal the wounds of this time. I can afford to give some of my resilient strength to those that most need it while keeping enough for me to continue.

I am committing to nurture my abilities as an artist and a coach, building on everything that 2020 has shown me and what I have learned about myself as a result. I will nurture any fear that arrives as I push at my growing edges in my art-making and in my coaching practice. I will meet fear as a call to love – a spotlight on where I am attached, unsure, and tender. Here is where I will bring the full force of my nurturance and compassion. I will recognize that 2020 was a year that showed me what I am capable of and how adaptive I can be. I will not waste the teachings of such a challenge.

Goodbye 2020. You brought forward much for me to work with and learn. I will not pretend that this was an amazing opportunity that I feel deep gratitude for, just yet. That would be untruthful. As I write this, too many are oppressed, suffering and dying. There is still so much division and struggle to agree on what the truth is. I feel unsettled and called to myself more than ever – for that I am grateful. 

Hello 2021, may you bring us some hope – not a miracle, just a little hope. May you give us a bit of breathing space to loosen our grip and begin to listen to each other again. May you gently nudge us towards the answers we need and may you remind us of our compassionate natures, our interconnectedness, and the value of a life. May our nature return to nurturing all there is.

Prefer to listen? Click on the link below to listen to and/or download the audio version of this Blog post. 

LOOKING WITHOUT SEEING

“I sat staring, staring, staring - half lost, learning a new language or rather the same language in a different dialect” – Emily Carr.

Have you ever noticed how we become unaware of what is actually in front of us because we’ve seen it too often? Attentional selectivity has been well documented as a method we use to function. Taking in every visual in our field would be overwhelming, so we filter, focusing our attention on what we deem to be the most relevant details. This ability frees up energy in our brains for other tasks. We are so good at this that we seldom even notice we’re doing it. 

I recently became aware of this attentional selectivity when I realized I had been overlooking a cluttered pantry that had been this way for so long that I no longer saw it. Until that moment, I had looked past the clutter, focusing only on what I needed to retrieve. We naturally tune out what our brain deems to be unimportant, so I simply retrieved what I needed. The fact that my pantry was a mess didn’t serve my purpose at that moment, so I was blind to it. I wondered how I could be looking at this clutter for so long and not be seeing it!

This experience prompted me to ask the question, what happens when we really need and want to see – like when we are making our art? There are times in our creative work when we need to see clearly and thoroughly to make the important decisions and choices. So how do we switch off the filters that deploy organically after looking at something continuously for some time?

We all know how it feels to have looked at our work for so long that we just can’t see it anymore. We lose our objectivity and feel lost. This is when we need to bypass our tendency to simply look and instead consciously see.

What helps is to slow down and get methodical. Take some time to make a complete visual inventory of what you are seeing in your work. Use mindfulness to observe what you are seeing, as you would to observe your thoughts. Make an extensive list of what you are noticing, and do this as a neutral viewer, withholding any and all judgement – there will be a time for this later. Once we have taken time to simply be an observer, we will have more information to be a discerning judge of our work, giving our observations clarity and purpose.

As you look, pay close attention to what you are seeing that you might not have noticed before, no matter how small. Turn the work and view it in different orientations and angles. Try viewing the work through a mirror to see it in reverse. This is often like seeing the piece for the very first time, fresh and unfiltered.

Change the placement of where you are looking at the work. Take it to a different room. Take it outside. Adjust the lighting from very bright to barely lit. Take pictures of the work and look at it on a screen, view it in black and white or different tones.

Each time you make a change to how you are viewing the work, ask yourself what more you are seeing. How has the work changed as a result? What has been discovered and what has been lost? Is there anything that feels uncomfortable or off-putting in the work? What really stands out to you as beautiful, effective or captivating?

What do you notice when the colour is absent from the work? What role does the colour play? Could it be doing more in the work or is it too much? How about the texture? Both the implied texture that is a result of the imagery, and the actual texture created through applications of paint and other media. Are you now seeing it differently?

Consider the qualities of what you are looking at. If you were describing this work to someone who has lost their sight, how would you convey what you are seeing and experiencing? What words could you use to speak about the quality of the work and the overall feeling, along with the details and essential elements?

Make a drawing of what you are looking at, using your observation skills to render the work in a different media. This forces us to distill every aspect of the work we are observing so we can recreate it with some accuracy in its new iteration. Close and thorough observation through drawing not only helps us see what we are looking at, but also strengthens our drawing skills.

These are just some of the ways we can help ourselves to let in more visual information through which we can assess our work more deeply. We need to be able to do this for our own work and it also trains us how to look more slowly and contemplatively at other artists’ work. The fact is that when we slow down and become intentional about looking, we see more than we typically would. When we do that over time, more can be revealed to us.

It is often said that a really great painting does only this – it reveals more of itself to the viewer the longer the viewer engages with it. Great paintings pull us in and intoxicate us with their initial impression. We notice certain things first, usually the contrast, in its values and colours. The strongest elements do their work and grab attention. It is when we take the time to look longer that the more subtle and evocative aspects reveal themselves. But what if we were to spend an hour looking? By spending protracted time deeply looking at a piece, we ourselves can be changed through the experience. We may discover something we hadn’t known or understood before, and our perception could be altered. When we take the time to really see what is being presented to us, we discover more, and that discovery can lead to change.

Sometimes the long looking can generate anxiety for us simply because it feels like we “should” know what the painting is saying, needing or doing. Sitting in the space of not knowing is challenging, so we often avoid it. We may try to relieve the discomfort of those feelings by making an impulsive choice. Sometimes that does take us to an interesting place in our work, but I often feel there is a balance needed between action and contemplation.

We need to become attuned to not only seeing, but sensing when is the best time to do this deep looking. I think that perhaps there are two key stages that can benefit from this slowed down looking – when we are stuck with where to go to next in our work, and when we are contemplating what a piece needs to be finished or whether perhaps it already is. Both of these stages of our work are asking for our discernment and judgment to guide us forward, or to conclusion. The rest of the time, it is action we need – movement, intuition, choices informed by feeling and sensing our way. These are the times we play, express, and push boundaries. We entertain what is possible, and how we can get out of our own way to be more open and freer in our work.

As artists we not only want to be able to truly see our work, but we also want to create an experience of the work being revealed to the viewer and unfolding over time. So it only makes sense that finding ways to look deeply at our work, with mindful observation and patience is key to the process.

Becoming intentional with how you look at your work can lead to a deeper understanding and appreciation of your craft. Expand this deeper looking to other aspects of your life and you may find you develop a new appreciation for the small details and nuances in the world around you. Like me, you may even find you need to organize your pantry. 

Prefer to listen? Click on the link below to listen to and/or download the audio version of this Blog post.

THE ESSENTIAL QUESTIONS

I have been thinking about the one thing that I feel is essential to our creative process and emotional resilience as artists. As always when I pose a question to myself like this, information often arrives from places known and unknown. It’s as if I have set an intention, made my request and now the answers are there to be discovered. It’s likely they were always there, I just wasn’t clear about what I was looking for – or how to ask the right question.

And in what I have just shared is a hint to the answer of what is the one essential thing that drives the creative process. But let me tell you more about how I once again realized it’s value.

The past few months I have been obsessed with painting, compelled to work and finding any stolen moment I can to be back in the studio, even if it is to only sit with the pieces I’m working on and look at them. I have just felt really engaged and somehow freed up in ways I haven’t been before. 

You might remember the 30 Day Sketchbook Challenge I gave myself in mid-May, where I committed to making one work in my sketchbook each day for 30 days. I invited my community to join me and it became a rich and activating experience that I thoroughly enjoyed. 

Around Day 19 of the Challenge I started to notice myself becoming attuned to something in this daily practice. What I was connecting with in my sketchbook work was the dialogue that was occurring between the two sketchbook pages. I was working with a two-page spread each day, working on both pages together and allowing the relationship between the pages to guide my process.

I was also writing about my sketchbook practice each day and I often found myself engaged with a question that continually drove my process forward and eventually anchored it to one idea or area of investigation – the dialogue. This question was fuel for this process – the activator, the clarifier and the distiller. That is what good questions do and why they must be a part of our art practice.

As the sketchbook work progressed and I neared the completion of the 30 day commitment, I decided to take this idea of “the dialogue”, which I was still deeply engaged with, and scale that up by beginning a series on panel.

I decided to do 10 paintings, with two panels in dialogue with each other and replicating the process I used in my sketchbook. The panels were 18 x 24 inches, so similar proportions to the sketchbook pages, and not a typical proportion for me to work with. 

Once all the panels were prepared – sealed, primed and mounted with paper – I began to add paint, loosely following the process I used in the sketchbook work. I had plenty of nicely sized collage papers at the ready as well, as they were a big part of the approach I was working with.

All seemed to be going pretty well and I had two panels coming along, with a few layers of paint and collage. Then something happened and I stalled. I had ten panels on the wall, all waiting for me, and I was feeling an all too familiar sense of resistance. 

It was true I hadn’t been working as much due to my commitment to my 12-week online program The Artist Mindset, which had just completed. But the 30 Day Sketchbook Challenge was my re-entry strategy and I felt really ready to dive in now, so what the heck was this? 

Again I brought forward a question to guide myself towards what needed to shift. Of course I knew it was my mindset, but what was going to be the key that would allow me to engage even in the face of resistance?

I’ll admit it took a few days and a couple of more rough starts, in between long days of admin and coaching work, but I found the key question that could guide me forward. It was like a eureka moment for me.

I asked myself, what made it so easy for me to engage with the sketchbook page? What was the quality of the approach I was using there and what was different now as I approached the panels?

The answer was clear. I was monumentalizing the panels, making them more important than the sketchbook pages. I was attaching to and identifying with outcomes and allowing those feelings, when they arrived, to grab a hold of me instead of just letting them pass through me.

I remember taking pictures of the beginning stages of the work and thinking about posting them to Instagram, sharing my progress along the way. Knowing that there was an audience following me, this brought me into a space of feeling I somehow needed these paintings to be super strong. Again, thinking of outcomes and external acceptance, two areas of our thinking that prevent us from risking in our work and that often fire up the walls of resistance.

So I decided not to share in real time, like I did in the 30 day Sketchbook Challenge. but to give myself permission to hold my ground, my sacred space of process, and decided to document the process, to share later, as I am doing now.

I also decided on a key question to work with, one that would bring me back into process and out of outcomes quickly. The question I posed to myself each time I felt resistance arriving around a choice I was making in the work was:

Would I take this action if I was working in my sketchbook?

This simple question was the metric from which I could measure my presence to pure process and detachment from outcomes. I know that in my sketchbook practice, and all that I unpacked from that, I was ruthless in my ability to make decisions, changes, and altering what was already on the page. And while I lost many gorgeous bits along the way, the final results were always better for the risks I took.

The Sketchbook Mindset is the mindset that allowed me to take risks in my work, and all I needed to do was find that one question that would return me to that mindset and I was off and running.

Once that connection was made I became enthralled, curious, and willing to risk BIG time. That made a huge difference for me and the 10 paintings moved along quickly. They are now finished and I have started another series of 10. And what is most notable to me is that even with breaks in between working sessions, that one key question put me just where I need to be with this work.

Here are some images of both the sketchbook work and the new work on panel. In sharing these images I’m hoping you can see the connections between them and that this might give you some ideas around how to move your own work from the Sketchbook to more formal work.  Perhaps asking yourself the right questions can pave the pathway forward to clarity around intention.

Day 19 of the 30 Day Sketchbook Challenge

You can see more images of this body of work on Instagram, both for Insight Creative, where I shared the daily sketchbook work, and Cheryl Taves Art, where I posted the finished paintings in this series, which I am calling the ‘Dialogue Series.’ 

Dialogue no.7 and no.8 | Mixed media on paper mounted on panel | 24x18 inches each

This type of practice of moving from sketchbook to more formal work also invites us to consider how we can generate work from our own work. Can we be the source of our own inspiration? If we posed a clear question around that, what might it be?

Just as we need to be mindful of the quality of our thoughts – checking to see if our thought is supportive or unsupportive for us – the questions we pose to ourselves have power. And that is because of how our brain responds to problem solving. 

Whatever question you ask yourself, your brain sees that as a problem to be solved, becomes engaged and will attempt to answer it. So we can see the importance of choosing those questions wisely. Otherwise our brain will fixate and try to solve a question that isn't helpful for us, and perhaps even damaging.

If our internal dialogue is filled with questions that are unproductive and invite self-criticism like, “Why am I always messing things up?”, or “Why can’t figure out what to do next?”, or even “What am I doing wrong?”, our brain literally tries to answer that with evidence and assertions, searching for untruths which we then adopt as beliefs about ourselves. These beliefs when repeated enough actually can turn into core beliefs – that we then operate from.

If we reframe the questions we ask ourselves – restructuring them to engage our positive, curious nature instead – we get different answers and results that move us towards self-development and growth in our art and our lives.

Working with a question like, “What if have everything I need to make this work?” has a completely different energy to it. Here the question assumes that what we’re engaged with is easy and already within our grasp, and as a result our brain now searches for the answers to how to continually keep it that way.

As you practice the art of working with and crafting good questions for yourself, keep in mind that you first want to place your awareness on the underlying implied tone or energy of the question. Here are some things to consider when working with questions in this way:

Know Where You’re Wanting to End Up

It is helpful if your question contains the desired change or outcome you’re after –  the purpose or intention. If it does, you’ll be heading in the right direction.

For example, take the question “Why can’t I figure this out?” – which is embedded with self-judgement – and change it to “What do I need to know to move forward?”

Craft The Question to Give You Information

Open-ended questions invite curiosity and engagement of the imagination, giving you access to insights you may not have otherwise had. Questions that begin with “how”, “what”, “who”, “why” and “where” are open-ended questions. They invite information, not a “yes” or “no” response. Questions that begin with “would”, “should”, “is”, “are” or “do you think” can all be answered with a yes or a no. These are closed questions and nothing further is needed as a response.

There are Times to Use a Closed Question

Open-ended questions are very important in helping us to explore more deeply, but closed questions – that can only be answered with a “yes” or “no“ – are good when we want to be very clear. If we need to check in with ourselves to see if something is true, feels right, or is in alignment with our purpose, a closed question is the way to get a clear, quick answer. 

For example, in my process with moving from my sketchbook work to panels, I used open-ended questions to connect more deeply with what I was exploring and to help me get to the core idea – the dialogue. Then when I found myself stalled and not able to move forward with the paintings, I again asked open-ended questions to help me clarify what I was doing differently between my panel work and my sketchbook work. This helped me to unpack and connect to the mindset that would be more helpful for me and craft a guiding question that would get me quickly back to where I needed to be. The closed question, “Would I take this action if I was working in my sketchbook?”, which I would answer with a yes or no, then became the guiding question to keep me clear and moving forward in the work.

Follow Up and Dig a Little Deeper

To go even further with your questions you can work with follow-up questions to dig deeper. “And what else?” is a good one to use, but it can also be more specific, like “Why do I think that is true?”or “What more do I know about this?”

Give Yourself Some Time to Respond

If you were asking someone else this question, what would happen if you interrupted their thinking with another question or a comment before they were able to respond? It would likely distract them and they’d lose their train of thought and ability to offer a considered or truthful response. Our own thoughts can be like this, impatient and uncomfortable with the space and silence as your brain is churning away working on the answers. Allowing yourself to sit and wait for the answer can be surprisingly engaging and bring about interesting outcomes.

This way of working with good, well-crafted questions leads to less complicated choices, viable solutions, and replaces the idea that our work or next project needs to be difficult and beyond our abilities, with the possibility of it being easy and attainable, and perhaps even enjoyable. This is reframing a thought pattern or habit by enlisting the powerful problem solving aspects of your brain. It’s a mindset shifting technique on steroids!

So next time you find yourself at an impasse or struggling to move things forward in the way that you’re committed to doing, consider the potent potential of a good question. You may just find this becomes your go-to strategy, helping you to meet your creative work with renewed energy while busting down any walls of resistance.

Prefer to listen? Click on the link below to listen to and/or download the audio version of this Blog post.

PARADOXICAL THINKING

If I were to ask you to simultaneously pour every ounce of yourself – your skillful abilities, your emotions, intellectual concepts, your truth as you understand it – into your creative work, while remaining in a state of neutral detachment during the process and uninvested in its success, would you find that difficult? I think most of us would. And yet, it is what is asked of an artist as they make their work, along with embodying many other conflicting states of being.

Art-making is filled with paradoxes – seemingly contrary or conflicting actions that often defy reason, but can lead to truthful unexpected discoveries. It’s when we understand the challenge this presents for us that we can hone a skill set for negotiating these sticky places present in our craft.

Without this awareness we overlay exceptions and mythical beliefs about art-making that are simply not true and cause us unnecessary struggle. Learning to accept the paradoxical aspects of art-making prepares us for the deep work of managing the discomfort that inevitably arrives, and helps us to go the distance.

With knowledge we are empowered and more able to adapt to what is required of us. So let’s talk about some of these paradoxes and why they are important to embrace in our art-making. 

Here are a few that I encounter in my own process and with artists I work with:

• Be all in – fully committed and authentic in your work – but at the same time get out of your own way. Know what part of yourself needs to be in and what part needs to step away.
  
  
  

• Move into the unknown without any idea of where you might be headed, but hold an intention for your work at the same time. And if you have a really clear idea for your work, execute that idea while still allowing for chance and intuition to play a role, keeping your work fresh and alive.
  
  
  

• While you may begin your creative work with a plan, an idea or intention, you must be willing to let the work have its way and let go of that initial idea if something else arrives. Hold intentions lightly.
  

• Face a multitude of choices and decisions in nearly every moment of the creative process – some that can be hugely consequential to the work you’re making. But don’t let that generate anxiety for you, just make those choices. And don’t feel any pressure around that.
  

• At every stage of your work, you need to be willing to risk greatly. Even if you have invested tons of materials and numerous hours of your time, you have to be willing to sacrifice the whole of your work for its development – to move it towards greatness.
  

• Accept that most of your work won’t be deemed by yourself or others as great – it might be good, or sometimes just okay, and at other times a complete failure. As you pursue the vision for your work – striving for that greatness – you need to accepted that most of your work won’t get there. But don’t let that discourage you, as that is a sure way to never get there.
  
  
  

• Be willing to embrace failure even when you feel intense resistance to that idea. In fact, true innovation only occurs when failure is an expected result of the process. Through failure comes discovery and invention. Befriend your resistance to failure and make it a part of your creative process.
  
  
  

• Make your work for yourself first and foremost. Create with authority and autonomy, buffering yourself from being swayed by the art buyers or the market, but then share your work with collectors and gallerists and hope they like it enough to purchase or exhibit it.
  
  
  

• Your work feels deeply personal, an extension of yourself, an expression of your truth or an important statement that needs to be shared. And if others don’t like it, accept that they are not your audience and don’t take their rejection of your work personally. While your work is an extension of you, it isn’t you. Separate yourself from your work, but be fully engaged with it.
  
  
  

• Spend time in isolation, learning to trust your own counsel, while recognizing that you need to receive feedback and have fruitful discussion around your work. Feedback helps you to see it more clearly, but you shouldn’t let it sidetrack you – only take what is valuable for you, and you should know what that is.
  
  
  

• When making your work, don’t think too much, but know that every action you take has an impact and can change the course of your work. Set this heavy concern aside while working, using your discernment to know when is the right time to think.
  
  
  

• Create from your centre – grounded and focussed – but also with abandon, letting yourself be free. Use your emotions as fuel, but don’t be emotional about the process or the results.
  
  
  

• Recognize that chaos and order can co-exist and you are often moving between these two places. Know which state you need in your work and when.
  

• Music needs to be heard, writing needs to be read, and art needs to be seen. But when is the right time to share your art with the world and how do you do that? And what if you’re introverted, shy and uncomfortable with being seen? How do you overcome all that to act on this essential stage of art-making – the sharing of your work?

I could go on, as there are so many paradoxes to art-making, but I think you get the idea and perhaps you have even thought of a few of your own as you’re reading or listening to this. I find it helpful to write about them, uncovering them in my process. Somehow identifying them allows me to understand more fully what is required of me as I make my work. That way I can build in strategies to assist me in navigating these conflicting aspects of the creative process.

And here is the gem in all this effortful negotiation – working with paradoxes invites in discovery and trains us to be adaptive, curious and resilient. These are mindset skills that artists need to employ to be successful in their work.

According to the Merriam Webster Dictionary, the ancient Greeks were well aware that a paradox can take us outside our usual way of thinking. They combined the prefix para meaning “beyond” or “outside of” with the verb dokein meaning “to think”, forming the Greek word paradoxos, an adjective that means “contrary to expectation”.

So a paradox moves us elsewhere – outside of conventional thinking and into new thought. It essentially provides our brains with a conundrum to contemplate, which likely occupies a part of our brain that employs logic and reason, allowing the creative part of our brain to free associate and generate ideas and possibilities yet unknown to us.

As artists we need to do more of this type of thinking – outside of our usual way. We actually want to embrace the paradoxical aspects of our chosen craft for all that they can offer us. All too often we fight against the very thing that is in service to our ingenuity, our creative vision, and our ability to execute that vision. 

When we insist on a roadmap or a set of clear guidelines for how to get from where we are to where we want to be, we have already closed ourselves off from the genius of paradoxical thinking. It’s as if we haven’t truly harnessed what art-making is about – endless and expansive questioning. 

It’s through this experience of working with questions, paradoxes, and ambiguous parameters that we become equipped as artists. Learning to engage with the process of asking good, well-crafted questions is essential, and will help you to negotiate the space from which your work is generated from.

Next month I’ll expand further on how to work with questions in your art-making, letting them inform your process and guide you towards clarity when you’re needing that. But also how to use questions to invite discovery and unexpected outcomes – cozying up to the essential, evocative, paradoxical thinking that you may have been avoiding in the past. 

But for now, notice the paradoxes when they are present for you. Consider the list I’ve provided here and perhaps add some of your own. By identifying the paradoxes you’re faced with and that are inherent in your creative work, you’ll already be setting yourself up for a new way to engage with them – moving yourself from avoidance of what feels uncomfortable to becoming curious, intrigued, and ready for a new way of thinking. 

Prefer to listen? Click on the link below to listen to and/or download the audio version of this Blog post.

BARKING DOGS

Photo credit Fabian Gieske

It’s often said that the critical voices that an artist hears as they work are like barking dogs – insistent, noisy, and sometimes downright aggressive. It’s hard not to be distracted by them as they demand our attention with their volume and triggering tone. How can we focus on our creative work and drop into that flow space when there is such noise inside our heads? And what can we do to lower the volume and bring ourselves into a better space to create from?

I like the action of identifying these voices and even naming them in such a way that allows us to see them for what they really are, helping us to recognize when they are active. For some artists the voice is a quieter whisper that grows and pops in unexpectedly to offer a derailing comment. But for many of us, when we really focus our attention on our inner dialogue, the voices are cruel and terribly unsupportive. Our inner critic takes great pleasure in interfering with our creative process and will find any opportunity to mess with us. And we all have one.

Somehow just the very act of recognizing these voices helps us to hear them more clearly and feel the painfulness of their judgment. When we have a thought that hurts us in this way it’s not based in any truth about us, but is likely connected to a long held belief we have about ourselves – one that we somehow decided was true about us because that’s what we were told. Our early experiences in life form our personality and the negative messages we may have received about ourselves become an accepted truth. But, it never was our truth...it was someone else’s truth. 

What a relief it is to finally recognize we actually don’t have to believe everything we think. Many of our thoughts are just a false narrative and something we can challenge and rewrite, building new beliefs – ones that are more in alignment with our desires for ourselves. But how do we get from barking dogs to rewriting our beliefs? 

The first step is to listen. Just as we would do for a loved one when they are struggling and needing our support. We listen with compassion and with a desire to understand, so we can help. We need to be able to offer that to ourselves in these moments of weighty self-criticism. If we listen to what we are actually saying to ourselves from a place of compassionate observation, we can begin to clearly identify our unproductive thinking and decide that is not true for us, and we don’t have to believe that thought. 

Questioning our thoughts is the gateway to self-awareness and provides us with opportunities for growth and change. When we engage with curiosity in our art-making and our thinking, we become more open, more resilient, and more authentic. So we listen, then we become curious and we question those thoughts.

As we explore the quality of our thoughts we can begin to notice the tone – is this thought supportive or is it unsupportive? If it is an unsupportive thought then why would we invite it in? Well, sometimes it’s a barking dog insisting on our attention...so we let it in, but we can also take control and correct that thought, just as we might quiet a barking dog. And, when the barking dog settles, we offer it praise and acknowledgment for the better behaviour. We can do this for ourselves as well – acknowledging our very action of reframing our thoughts from something unhelpful, and even damaging, to something neutral or perhaps supportive for us. 

Reframing our thoughts is a practice that helps us to align our thinking with our desires for ourselves. When we can offer ourselves encouragement, support and compassion, we have much more capacity for the emotional work that art-making requires of us. We can meet failed attempts, ugly starts, and moments of feeling completely lost with a different kind of energy – one that is rooted in the understanding that art-making is hard work and we need to help ourselves along the way, not bombard ourselves with noisy, critical dialogue. 

And because this is practice – like any other practice – we need to continually recommit to it and to ourselves. We need to start again each day with the intention of supporting ourselves and our work. We may even need to recommit moment by moment at times when things are particularly challenging. For instance, during these recent and unsettled times many artists are hearing the “why bother” voice, and that has become the new noisy barking dog. 

You see the inner critic is tricky and is always waiting for a crack in our resiliency. Even when we are working in a wonderfully productive way, perhaps digging deeply into the essence of our creative work and connecting the dots of meaning, the critic will try a new approach to see if it can sabotage that forward movement. A client of mine recently sparked a dialogue with what she called her “therapist barking dog.” She was exploring the symbols in her work, connecting with a potent place in her expression and choosing to consider how the ways she was applying paint and generating imagery related to her inner world. As she worked the therapist barking dog appeared and started to try to make every painting action a futile attempt at authenticity. It called her attention to every move, asking for it to be dissected and analysed. This caused her to feel self-conscious and she would tighten up. The work felt forced as a result. 

When she gave her attention to the inner dialogue she noticed the tone and quality of the commentary. While it was connected with her deeper dive towards understanding more about her authentic imagery, the comments were actually demeaning and poking fun at her – like subtle, judgemental jabs. The bottom line is the therapist barking dog was attempting to undermine her growth in this area and prevent her from becoming more connected to her truest expression. As she showed up more for herself, the inner critic found another way to interfere. Thankfully, she knew to tune into the quality of the feeling that accompanied this thought and brought that into her awareness to be worked with. She decided that the best strategy at that time was to identify and more quickly recognize the pattern so that she could quiet the inner dialogue while she was working. When she was looking at her work later, she could then invite the inner therapist to join in for some productive, analytical discourse. 

It’s when we attune to this inner space – our inner space – with a sensitivity and commitment to knowing more about the quality of our thoughts and the role they play that we can become more mindful and cultivate a place for our creativity to thrive. We need to till the soil, add the compost, and pull the weeds in the garden of our thinking minds. When we do, we can grow the most wonderful forms of expression and make our art with more ease and have it be reflective of our truth. When we change the way we engage with our inner dialogue, we can question and change our beliefs – moving from barking dogs to rewriting our personal story, aligning it more closely with our truest purpose.


Prefer to listen? Click on the link below to listen to and/or download the audio version of this Blog post.

MEANING AND MOTIVATION

Photo credit Tim Laman

One of the great existential concerns that many artists struggle with is why they make their art – questioning what purpose it serves. This concern can arrive all on its own as an artist attempts to carve out space and opportunity in their life for art-making, but it is especially concerning in times like these when there is so much need, suffering, and uncertainty.

In these past several months we may have found ourselves struggling – feeling uninspired, apathetic, unable to focus, and even beginning to question if making our art isn’t just self-indulgent and unnecessary. When galleries have closed and opportunities to show and share our work are even more limited, what motivates us to show up to the studio each day and continue making our work? What purpose does art-making serve in times of such struggle and hardship? And what if we feel that our art-making is dependent on the external circumstances being just right, and when they are not moving in that direction anytime soon, what then?

The answer that can help is to recognize that art-making and being creative is a way of making our lives meaningful. There is no other creature on this planet that makes art for the sheer joy of it except for maybe the amazing Bowerbirds, whose courtship rituals involve building elaborate nests very specifically decorated with groupings of coloured objects – composed, placed and designed to attract an interested female. While their artistry is motivated by finding a mate, they also seem to enjoy the process of making.  But would they do this without the underlying motivation? Probably not. Only we would, because we find meaning in making and experiencing art. It moves us emotionally, provokes our awareness and provides us with an outlet to express what we are feeling or needing to say. 

As artists we have an interesting relationship with this need to make meaning. We want to know that what we make matters, but we also see so much good work already out there in the world and we wonder how ours could matter. And that creates creative anxiety for us, anxiety that arrives as procrastination and resistance, which unchecked prevents us from making our art.

Interestingly, we also experience creative anxiety when we realize that making our art actually means a great deal to us. We can then put extraordinary pressure on ourselves for every piece we make to be significant and a reflection of that deep, meaningful purpose – as a kind of evidence of our worth. When a work fails or doesn’t meet our vision, we decide that we’re somehow flawed and unable to make meaningful work –which is our deepest, unanswered purpose. So the mounting anxiety causes us to stop. We relieve ourselves of the painful experience – the discomfort – by avoiding making our art.

But as the author and Creativity Coach Eric Maisel says, “Since anxiety accompanies both states – creating and not creating – why not choose creating?” Certainly we don’t have any chance of finding meaning for ourselves if we never attempt to make our work.

There is plenty of emotional labour to manage in art-making, even when the external circumstances of our lives are feeling just right for us. And we need to recognize the added layers of challenge that arrive for us when circumstances are not feeling right, and prepare ourselves for that. At these times art-making can become particularly hard for us and we can lose ground easily with our work – avoiding, questioning, abandoning. We may even decide it just doesn’t matter.

But what if the process of making our art was the answer to this question around meaning? What if we found meaning in making, the engagement and the process, and not the outcomes or external validations? The act of creating our art is sourced from a deeply personal and connected place. When we focus on the connection – feel more and think less – we tap into something that nourishes us and allows us to feel meaning. We can choose to make meaning in our lives by honouring this relationship to ourselves. And when we do, we are healthier, calmer and better able to help others.

Our wellbeing depends on this connection to meaning, and art-making is an access point for us. And our art is meaningful because we declare it as that. It’s activated by our choosing to engage with a process that offers insights, truthful expression, trust and courage. The very act of making art causes us to expand, grow and discover. Meaning is a matter of course. And when our lives feel more meaningful to us we make better choices for ourselves and in the world. 

At times like these we can decide to do something that will help us to be stronger and more accepting simultaneously. And art-making can offer each of us that. Regardless of whether there are opportunities to sell or show our work, making art needs to be rooted in this place of “making meaning” for ourselves. Because then our art can’t be touched by anything that changes in the external world – which is constantly changing. It’s our path to mastery in life and will contribute greatly to everything we do. 

The first action you can take in the commitment of making meaning with your art is to state that you matter and so does your work. And only you can offer that to yourself.

Remember that even when we don’t feel certain of the future prospects for our art, like exhibition opportunities and in-person art sales, what you’re doing – being an artist – is tremendously valuable, simply because it allows you to be well. When we are connected to our deepest purpose, we create meaning in our lives...and right now, more than ever, we need to find meaning in our lives.

Through art-making you create meaning for yourself. When that art is shared you give that gift of meaning to others, allowing them to create their own. As an artist you are an ambassador of meaning-making. What a gift you are to the world. 

Prefer to listen? Click on the link below to listen to and/or download the audio version of this Blog post.

THE SKETCHBOOK MINDSET

What happens when we truly commit to something, set ourselves up to succeed by being accountable to others, and show up regardless of what might be getting in our way? Much more than we could have expected is often the answer, at least that has been my experience, and seems to be the experience of many others that have done the same. 

As I write this I am on the final day of the 30 Day Sketchbook Challenge. I started this Challenge as a way to help me reacquaint myself with my studio after a break and invited any other artists that also wanted a Challenge like this to join me. The response was unexpected, and welcome. I had a wonderful group of artists from all over – including many that were familiar with my coaching work and many others that were not – join together and form a supportive and encouraging Community. Each day we have shared our work and thoughts on Facebook, Instagram and in my private Groups. It has grown beyond any reach I had imagined possible, and that became a strong, driving connection to continue day after day.

I’m so incredibly grateful to all the artists that dedicated 30 days of their creative lives to this Challenge and offered me so much feedback and support along the way. I know that by travelling together we gave each other added strength to make it to the finish line. Some may continue, while others are catching up. Either way you can ride the wave of this energy to where you want to go. You have a community behind you and alongside you...cheering you on.

Throughout the 30 Days I shared my work and my thoughts about what was arriving for me – what I was investigating and bumping up against. I haven’t shared this openly before about my process and I so appreciate the many comments and emails about how much this resonated for you. Thank you so much. Today I am reflecting further on what this Challenge has given me, as one last sharing and offering for you.

I want to talk about the Sketchbook Mindset and how I believe this mindset tells us everything we need to know about making our art. 

I have known the gifts of having a dedicated sketchbook practice for some time, but this practice and commitment went even deeper and I have been considering why that is and what allowed it to be such a powerful practice for so many artists. And, I’d love to hear your thoughts on this as well. 

One of the things that I have been asked about is how to leverage this practice and use it to inform our studio work. So let’s unpack this a bit and then see what strategies can be used.

Observations on the Sketchbook Mindset:

• By its very nature, working in a sketchbook immediately dissolves our attachment to outcome and product – or at least it should. We know that these pages will remain in our sketchbooks, so that gives us freedom from outcome. But we often catch ourselves beginning to like a sketchbook page and even start to think that perhaps we can actually cut this page out and use it somehow. This is our attachment to outcome showing up and it’s good to be aware of.

• Because we are not making a “work of art” we can be more attentive to and indulgent of our impulses, wild ideas…and even more accepting of any failures, if they happen. “It’s just sketchbook work, it doesn't matter.” This is tremendously freeing for us. And, we get to practice being unattached, uninvested and wildly risky.

• When we decide to share our usually private and personal sketchbook work, that potential for feedback changes our relationship to it and we may not be as free. But if we were able to share our work, we also got to practice and notice how that could be managed, or not. Did you not show the work that you felt wasn’t as good? Did you do more of what was getting good feedback? How did the feedback change your relationship to your approach? This is also really good information.

• Each day’s efforts in our sketchbook took us through the entire process and stages of making a formal piece of art – condensing it into a shorter time frame and pushing us to make choices more quickly, with less deliberation and more intuition. We practiced starting, being in the mucky middle and, most importantly, finishing. What did you learn about how you approach these stages? Did you engage with them differently in your sketchbook than in your studio work?

• We also had to make our art in small, sometimes rushed, pockets of time. If we were committed to accomplishing our goal of one piece per day, then we may have only had 30 mins or less to make a piece of work. Were you surprised at what you were capable of in shorter, broken periods of time? How does this information help you in your studio work? Can you do more in less time?

• A daily practice like this – not too demanding, but engaging – really begins to build connections through that repetition. We start to really recognize the benefits of regular visitation – a habitual and disciplined approach to our art-making bears fruit. If we commit to that and let go a bit more of the bigger pieces of what art-making is about for us, we do the work without even trying. 

• The more we show up on the page, the more we see ourselves – our voice, our style, our interests, our compulsions, our habits and our sensibilities. When we take time to reflect on each day’s work with writing and investigative questions, we find even more of ourselves and can build on the loose structures that are starting to form for us.

• When something new arrives we don’t shut it down because it’s not the work we’re making right now. We let it arrive and become curious about how it relates to our existing work, or consider if it is a new direction popping up. Inspiration finds us working, so that next idea or body of work might arrive while we’re diligently working on the page. It’s okay to spend the next sketchbook session exploring that further to see if there is something there for us. We don’t judge it or shut it down. We remain curious and trust the process we’re in. 

• Working through an idea or impulse in your sketchbook can be helpful before bringing it to your formal work. It gives you a place to safely explore something new without feeling the emotional pangs of discomfort that often come when we bring it into our studio work before we understand what it fully means for us. The sketchbook allows us to connect in with this newness and make it more like us so that when we bring it into our art-making it has relevance and connection to what we’re already doing. We can also take anything that has arrived consistently in our sketchbooks to our studio work. It will happen naturally, but we can be more intentional about it.

• The freedom we experience on the sketchbook page allows for our most personal and potent imagery to come forward. We allow ourselves to play and access our subconscious. We move more easily into “the zone” and flow state. Our work becomes more truthful and authentic as a result. 
  

This is the Sketchbook Mindset – and this is how we want to approach all of our work, not just the sketchbook page. When we practice in our sketchbooks, we are training ourselves to “feel” the mindset we need to embody. We’re able to connect with that mindset more easily as a result. 

What would happen if you saw every painting the way you see a sketchbook page? What inner-state do you need to hold in order to do that?

Can you recognize that the only difference between the sketchbook page and the panel or canvas is the meaning you’re giving to it – how much importance you're placing on the materials, the investment of your time, and the desire for results?

The work we can do now is to reflect back on this focussed, informative time and truly leverage it. Writing out what we discovered and creating an understanding of these truths. What are your truths that you are now keenly aware of through having gone through this experience?

We can also revisit our 30 Sketchbook pages and look for what we were most engaged with and consider how that could scale up into more formal work – not only in size, but in our thinking. We can do this by making notes of what we most enjoyed doing, what themes seemed to repeat, what we were most excited about investigating, what surprised us, and what we learned about ourselves come through this process of reflection. And what we want to develop more of in our studio work, that we may have discovered or touched on in our sketchbook.

The Sketchbook Mindset allows us to engage with the creative process from a place of complete freedom and trust. This is an invaluable gift we can offer to ourselves – a powerful practice to develop our connection and take our work further.  

If you’d like to see my daily posts from this 30 Day Sketchbook Challenge – including images of each day’s work, my thoughts on the process, and a prompt that you can work with – please visit my Insight Creative Coaching Facebook page or Insight Creative Coaching on Instagram.

Prefer to listen? Click on the link below to listen to and/or download the audio version of this Blog post.

ART AS A PRACTICE

It’s often said that art-making is a practice, something that we do consistently and with a sense of dedication, perhaps even reverence. For most artists this connection to practice is what helps them get closer to that long-held vision they hold for their work. But for many artists there are times when consistent practice just isn’t possible, at least not in the way they would like. I’m often bumping up against this myself as I navigate between coaching, facilitating online programs, and art-making – oh, yes, and enjoying my full and wonderful life. 

After winding up my 12-week online Group Coaching Program – with an incredible group of inspiring and courageous artists – it was time to reacquaint myself with my art practice. I know this cycle well by now and have learned to prepare myself for the reentry, laying down solid ground to work from. This preparation really helps me to find a path into my work without the heaps of discomfort that usually insists on arriving. Experiencing more peace in the creative process is always a good thing. It’s not always easy making our art.

Working in a sketchbook, however, has always been a place of peace and discovery for me. There is such a spacious and personal feeling to those pages – they welcome me every time I arrive, much like returning to a warm home. My sketchbook is my companion, my witness, and my secret-keeper. I can express and create anything on its pages. My only rule: there are no rules. I accept and indulge my compulsions, ideas and every effort to show up on the page. 

This engagement with my sketchbook sets me up beautifully to access my studio work again after a break. Not only does it help me to warm up, but I also tap into my reservoir of creative energy – the backlog of ideas and connections that will inform my future work. After all, in the time that has passed I have changed, assimilated new information, sensibilities and imagery. This is now waiting to be brought into the work, but it’s not yet realized and needs some outworking. The sketchbook is the place to connect into this. But what makes a sketchbook practice work for us and why is it so helpful to our development as artists?

Making art can be a serious affair. It’s demanding at times and certainly pushes us to be braver, stronger and more truthful – with ourselves and the work. We need to be fully present and manage many things simultaneously. And, we do all this without the assurance that what we’re doing is valuable, needed, or worth the investment of our time. Artists are driven by passion and necessity – our work is what connects us to our authenticity and wellbeing. So it’s important to us to make it. And that importance can in itself become a barrier to getting to the work. It means so much to us that we experience a real sense of loss and desperation when we’re not making our art. Whether it is due to circumstances beyond our control or our own fear and resistance, the loss feels the same.

A sketchbook carries none of that for us – at least it shouldn’t. It’s a tool of learning and practice. Finished works from a sketchbook will never be more than what they are – studies, experiments, documentations, and sketchbook pages. They don’t demand anything more. They simply invite the artist into the present moment.

Sketchbook work also allows us to experience what detachment to results and what making art for product feels like. All too often when we create our art we’re thinking about outcomes, viewers, showing, selling, likes. We’re focusing on the ending without being present for the process – being where we are with the work. And when we’re not present, we’re in a state of disconnection – which is the exact opposite of where we want to be when making our art.

We practice being in connection in our sketchbooks. We practice presence.

There is also an opportunity to really let loose and do things that we wouldn’t necessarily allow ourselves to do in our studio work – although it would be better if we could, and I’m continually striving for that. And sketchbooks help. It’s providing a safe space to play, invent, get wild, follow compulsions and obsessions, experiment with techniques and ideas. 

We practice risking when we work in a sketchbook. We learn through radical experimentation that only good can come from trying new things.

A sketchbook practice over time allows an artist to witness themselves and their development as an artist. The sketchbook becomes a repository of influences, inspiration, ideas and concepts. It contains the building blocks of an artist’s voice and documents their history and progression. When a sketchbook practice also includes journaling and reflective writing on the artist’s work and philosophy, then the purpose and resource is even more integrated and beneficial. 

At the time of writing this blog post I am on day 7 of a 30 day Sketchbook Challenge that I created, first for myself, and then invited others to join me. I knew I needed a way to return to my studio work, to establish a rhythm and forge a path forward. So the Insight Creative 30 Day Sketchbook Challenge was the perfect answer and action to take. The fact that hundreds of other artists felt the same and jumped in with me is a testament to just how valuable a sketchbook practice is. Most artists know this but often find staying consistent difficult. A commitment like this challenge helps us to establish a new habit and solidify the connection to our practice. 

Perhaps you’ve been thinking of establishing your own sketchbook practice or want to reconnect with one that has gone quiet for you. You’re welcome to join the Insight Creative Sketchbook Challenge at any time. If the 30 days of this challenge have passed (June 12th is the final day), then maybe think of inviting a few other artists to join you in a sketchbook challenge of your own. Being accountable to one another’s artistic growth is a powerful way to move everyone forward in their art practice. And, it’s so uplifting to share our experiences with others.

You can find and follow my daily posts of my Sketchbook Challenge work, along with some thoughts and prompts for the day, on Facebook and Instagram.

THE GIFT OF UNCERTAINTY

There is only one certainty in life and that is that everything is in a state of change. And even when we see evidence of this all around us, we spend a great deal of our time trying to control aspects of our lives to provide ourselves with a sense of security – an illusional certainty. Perhaps for a while our efforts even seem to shore us up – at least we feel some temporary relief.

Then every once in a while something comes along in life – into our direct experience – that clearly denotes that there is only change and that certainty doesn’t exist. Right now we’re in a time of heightened uncertainty. We feel a sense of loss around the rapid changes and fear of what lies ahead – the unknown future. We are not sure how to cope with what has always been true – change is inevitable – and we may not clearly understand the needs we have as we adjust and adapt to what is happening, and how self-compassion can help us.

We are bearing the weight of uncertainty and feeling its full force. How can we move through our lives with this looming over us? How can we make art, be creative, play and experience joy when everything we thought we knew has been turned upside down? It doesn’t seem accessible for us somehow or even appropriate. 

These thoughts and feelings are a normal response to a crisis and are not to be judged – no one truly knows another’s struggle. What we may be experiencing is nothing like what our neighbour might be going through – it’s personal and each of us is responding in our own way to this. We let go of judgement of ourselves and of others.

Compassion is the next natural response. We feel the depth of our own suffering and can also understand the pain that others are going through as well. Our ability to empathize and join others where they are is a gift we share, and a beautiful one. 

But how easily do we extend compassion towards ourselves? During times of stress do we acknowledge that what we’re going through is hard and offer ourselves love and support for our perseverance and ability to endure? I know meeting ourselves with compassion doesn’t come easily for most of us. We’d rather choose to berate ourselves for not being better at things. We imagine that we should be responding differently than we are, or we should have jumped into action by now and have taken steps to mitigate what is happening. 

We mostly tend to criticize ourselves – and always in the quiet recesses of our thoughts – when we most need to offer ourselves support and encouragement. Sometimes this criticism has become such a habit that we are not even aware we’re doing it – until we are and then we’re shocked at the fierceness of our self-talk. 

As Artists we are often working to clearly hear and reframe our inner dialogue. In fact, the majority of the work I do with my coaching clients and Group Program participants is to help them find a way to recognize their inner state, to hear clearly what they are saying to themselves and then work with that. We focus on being mindful of our thoughts and energy and we learn to reframe any unsupportive dialogue into something more helpful and aligned with our purpose. This, along with meeting ourselves with compassion and curiosity, is what The Artist’s Mindset is built upon. When we have a strong, resilient creative mindset we are capable of navigating the emotional labour that art-making can be. We reside in a place of trust with ourselves, knowing that we have a stable foundation and a set of tools to help us face anything that arrives on our creative path. 

But what happens when everything changes so quickly and with such broad reach? How can we find a place for our art-making and ourselves in a time of deep uncertainty and loss? 

A mentor of mine offered this question to a group of Artists in discussion about this topic. He said to ask ourselves, “What can’t be lost during this time?” I love that question for the hope that it provides – you mean there are things that can’t be lost, when it seems everything is falling away? What a revelation. 

What can’t be lost is our creativity, our art, our courage and our compassion. These belong to us and are untouchable. Our relationship to our art-making can be different and changeable at times, but it is always present for us. We are the source of our creativity – it resides within us and lives through us. This relationship is symbiotic and deeply connected. It can never be lost, only clouded from our awareness when we’re feeling disconnected from ourselves.

When the quality of our energy is affected by external circumstances – like stress, loss and unprecedented change – we don’t lose the relationship to our art or the ability to make it. But the relationship we have to our art will be a reflection of something new, because we’re in a state of change as we adapt to the new circumstances. The work we choose to make can’t help but be a reflection of that inner state – if we’re willing to allow our process to naturally unfold. 

If we try to make the art we were engaged with before the change-making event, we may find ourselves feeling disconnected and we’ll struggle. We need to make space for what wants to arrive –the new expression, the internal shifts. Our art might look different right now as a result. We may want to work smaller or bigger. We may feel called to use a different palette, revisit a medium we had once used, or explore a new one.

The change we are experiencing will be evident in the work because we are authentic creators – tuning into our inner states. We’re truthful, we’re connected, and we’re responsive. We honour ourselves and allow compassion to hold the space through which we extend acceptance to these new openings and discoveries. We trust this rhythm, this dance. It’s what being an artist is about – listening and believing in our own wisdom...and following the dance, without looking at our feet.

When the weight of uncertainty is upon us, we bend with it and invite in the new arrivals. We don’t hold tightly to what we know or have done in the past. We lean into the understanding  that the certainty of change is all there is. 

If you’re struggling to make your art right now, take some time to tune in and ask yourself some questions. Try writing out your responses in a journal or sketchbook and, as much as possible, just listen to your instincts and intuition. Your inner artist knows exactly what’s needed right now...and our problem solving, reactionary brain just needs to step aside for a bit as we feel our way through this time.

I have been finding that I am attracted to making work that feels fragile and impermanent. Drawings and collage papers are loosely pinned together and layered. They are not paintings, they are not easily moved or feel like they need to be more than they are. All I know is they feel good to make...and seem to capture something about my inner experience right now. I don’t need to show them or attach the same intention behind them that my other work posesses. They’re new and unpredictable, and they are strangely comforting. 

Here are some prompts to help you explore where you’re at with yourself right now. They may help you to find some clarity around where your energy wants to go in your creative work and how to help yourself get there:

• If you were to completely let go of what you think you should be making right now, what do you feel like making? What actions or qualities do you feel drawn to at this time? Is there something new that is calling to you or is it something familiar, maybe somewhere you’ve been before with your work?

• If you were to make art that was only for you, never to be seen by anyone and to serve no other purpose than to meet you where you are, what would you make?

• When you tune in to your inner state, what do you notice about it’s quality? Is it tight or loose? Is it firm or sticky? Is it in a frenzied state or is it numb? Is it prickly or heavy? Make a list of words that represent the quality of your feelings right now.

• What art would you make to represent these qualities of your inner state? What materials would you use? What colours? What size? Would its nature be permanent – like an object – or impermanent – like an event or installation?

• What do you know that helps you to settle yourself? Can you offer that to yourself before beginning your creative work? Do you need to move vigorously and dance out some energy before beginning or would it be more helpful to sit in quiet mediation, taking deep breaths?

• If you were to follow your intuition completely and allow yourself to be led, what would be the first action you would take? What would be the next action? And the next?

• What thoughts arrive for you when you consider the idea that the purpose of your art-making is a vehicle for your wellbeing? Is this purpose enough to move you towards making your art? If not, what purpose does move you towards making your art and does that inspire you right now? 

• Can you give yourself permission to move towards what feels better for you right now, even if that means a new direction in your work or a change of focus for the time being? What would need to change within you to grant this space of permission to yourself? 

I hope these prompts help guide you to invite in more curiosity and ease into your art practice right now. This may not be the best time to push at your growing edges and challenge yourself to dig deeply.

While facing our fears and limitations is something I encourage and work with my clients around at length, we also need to allow ourselves a space to adapt to the changes we’re facing. This time of uncertainty is adding more weight to the emotional labour that art-making is, and we need to recognize that and be kinder to our artist-selves as we adjust. 

Thinking of you and holding an intention for each of you to discover something meaningful for yourself through this time – no matter how small. Perhaps it will be a new understanding of how self-compassion can make you a stronger artist as well as a healthier person.

ABSENCE

We have heard it said that absence makes the heart grow fonder. When we’ve been away from our beloved for a period of time our feelings of longing only grow and we can’t wait to be reunited. Anticipation grows with each passing day as we imagine how it will feel to be in the arms of the person we love.

All artists have a unique relationship with the process of making their art and need to find just the right rhythm of focus and discipline to advance their work. This requires consistency of practise and an awareness of their personal sensitivity – what best supports them in their art-making.

Some artists thrive by spending long, uninterrupted hours in their studio. This affords them the opportunity to connect deeply with their process, materials and ideas. Other artists find that after a few hours in the studio they lose focus and energy for their work, so little and often helps them to be more productive during their studio sessions. Knowing our creative cycles and how to best set up our studio schedule to align with them is really important for any artist. 

But the common understanding that all artists have is that consistent, regular visitation with their art practice allows for development in their work. Discipline is needed whenever we want to improve our techniques and skills and our emotional engagement is deepened as well. While this is the ideal we strive for, it’s not always available to us.

There are many reasons artists are not able to have consistency in their art practice – health issues, work commitments, family needs and many other real life occurrences can interrupt our studio practice and our regularity is broken. 

For many artists I work with, this break from their art practice generates a lot of internal struggle. During these breaks they begin to feel like they’re losing ground in their work and begin to doubt themselves, even questioning their validity as artists. Their mindset, which may have been healthy and supportive of their process, moves towards a fear-based mindset instead. Where they once were strong, they are now feeling insecure and unnecessarily vulnerable to feelings of Imposter Syndrome. These feelings can loop on themselves and become insurmountable obstacles causing some artists to abandon their work for very long periods of time, and sometimes altogether. 

As an artist who has had to take breaks from my art practice due to life and work demands, I have had to face this very real challenge myself. I would respond with internal anguish and condemnation. Fear would grow inside me with it’s paralyzing poison, penetrating every thought I had about making my art. It would build and build the longer I was away from my art-making and any attempt to return became an insurmountable possibility. The resistance that is inherent in the creative process was now magnified and unmanageable. Finding a path back seemed impossible and I’d rather avoid that discomfort despite how much I wanted to make my art. 

It was only when I began to really work with my mindset that I discovered the clues to how to circumvent the build-up of energetic resistance to making my art during these long breaks from my studio practice. In the past my thoughts about the absence from my work were feeding a place of insecurity within me – the fear that I may not actually be an artist if I wasn’t making my art. 

I started to shift my thinking and reframed these thoughts and feelings about the absence. I leaned into this place of longing and decided it was a good thing to be feeling. Much like the absence of a lover, the time apart from my work strengthens the heart’s connection. As the anticipation of reuniting with it loomed, our time together occupied my thoughts and I felt connection, desire and love – not one ounce of space for fear. 

Just like we might do when we’re missing someone so dear, I’d revisit images of my work, look at lots of other art – art that inspired me and increased my desire for my own. I’d spend time writing love notes to my art in my sketchbook journal – dreaming of painting, planning our time together again. 

When the day came when I was able to finally return to my art-making I felt a sense of excitement and anticipation. I recognized that just like reuniting with someone we haven’t seen for awhile there would be an awkward period of familiarization as we became reacquainted. I learned to trust this space and even find ways to settle back in and catch up. 

I used primer-type exercises that would help me connect back with my art-making without the pressure of having to work on studio work that was awaiting completion or needed to be started. I approached my re-entry to the studio with reverence and respect, giving myself the space I needed to find my footing again, all the while noticing my thoughts and not allowing any negativity to take hold. I’d offer myself a supportive, encouraging space to begin again.

And it worked. What was once a painful, torturous process that would begin in my mind during the break and then stand in the way of the reconnection when it was finally available to me, was now more fluid and welcoming. The absence had made my heart grow stronger and I felt such a strong need to make my art. It was as if my creativity had been pent up and I needed to unleash it again. My beloved and I were reunited once again. 

BALANCING ACT

Do you pick a word for the year ahead – a word that captures what you feel you most need to give to yourself, focus on, or set your intentions around?

I do, and for 2020 I chose the word Balance.

Being an artist today seems to be about so much more than just making art. There are so many other things a working artists must attend to, which can take up a lot of our creative energy. Moving constantly between many roles is the new normal – artist, curator, promoter, writer, photographer, social media expert, fundraiser, shipper, administrator.

Don’t get me wrong. I recognize and appreciate the inherent value of the broader, accessible audience through social media and online platforms. And that also comes with its time demands and neediness. Sometimes I find myself just wanting to make art. After all, without the art, there isn’t anything to build a business around.

My art needs me and I need it. I have to – and want to – regularly spend time with it, nurture it and open up an internal space for it. 

The needs of making my art often run right up against the needs of promoting and supporting my art, which inherently takes away from the quality time I get to spend with myself cultivating an inner space from which to create. I find myself feeling like I need to fight for that space – becoming protective and obsessed. This, along with the need to move between the paradoxical mindsets that these various roles require, can leave me juggling a lot and seeking some balance in it all.

Recently, I’ve been thinking about my artist identity and these various, accompanying roles – what it means to have a presence online, a role in the art community, a reputation as a creativity coach, as well as attempting to be a productive, collectable and interesting artist all at the same time. It has pushed me to consider what’s necessary when it comes to sustaining a deeper relationship with myself, which, I believe, is absolutely needed in order to make our most personal and authentic art.  

It’s always about balance.

Who am I now and what do I need? That question is ever present and persistent – and one that brings about some good exploration, helping me navigate the paradoxes of being a working artist and coach.

In many ways I seem to like the variety of roles I play, and in other ways I find it challenging. At times I can lose touch with my truth and my passion and have it replaced with routine, habits and maintenance. I can get bogged down and lacklustre about it all if I’m not aware and don’t do something about it. We artists need to replenish and fill our creative well.

It's only by asking myself the right questions that I can coach myself back into alignment with my desires and get back to what's important to me – the work and my relationship with it. This engagement with reflective writing and questioning, and the connections that come as a result, might be the most important work that I can do to balance these conflicting needs. It helps me to know and sense the quality of my energy so I can make a good decision when I have to make a choice about where to spend my time. What would serve me best right now? How can I transition more fluidly between these various parts of myself with ease and find the artistry in all of it? 

It's through this introspective look at my roles, and how they are aligning with my greater purpose, that helps me access my truth. With that awareness I can guide myself to where I need to push and grow, as well as where I need to find balance. 

The power of good questions always helps me at these times. So I ask myself, what do I need to give more space to right now? And, what can I do to regenerate my creative energy so I can return to art-making with a fresh mindset?

The answers are always a welcome gift.

ENVISIONING

I recently tripped across a journal entry I made about seven years ago and was transported back to a time when I was struggling with how to move forward in my life. This is one of the reasons I adore, and continually recommit, to my sketchbook journal work – it provides me with real evidence of the power behind connecting with and envisioning our future. 

At the time I was writing about my desire for more meaning in my art-making. I wrote paragraph after paragraph about what I wanted my work to be about, how I wanted it to shift and what I imagined it could evoke in others. I also wrote about my desire to help artists – to be of service in some way.

I wrote in great detail about the passion I felt when I was able to talk with artists during open studios and at art gatherings. So many artists were feeling frustrated, lost and uncertain about the purpose of their work. They deeply wanted to connect with themselves and others. They wanted to see themselves in their work, take more risks and push past the fear and limiting beliefs that were holding them back.

Each conversation seemed to open a bigger space of compassion in me. I understood their suffering and their desire for so much more. I could feel their longing, the perpetual yearning for bringing their visions forward through their art. It was the searching, the “blessed unrest” that Martha Graham refers to in her writings to dancer Agnes de Mille that they were speaking of.

“No artist is pleased. There is no satisfaction whatever at anytime. There is only a queer, divine dissatisfaction, a blessed unrest that keeps us marching and makes us more alive than the others.”

In my journal pages I envisioned something bigger than I thought was possible for me. I wrote about working with artists to help them find comfort in the search. I wrote about coaching and online programs. I wrote about how it would feel to be offering my support, my insights and my guidance to others and witnessing them step more fully into their dreams. I poured it all out on the page in great detail. 

This is how envisioning works. We dream, we fully imagine ourselves in the experience – feeling it, embodying it and imagining the potential of it all. We don’t think about how we’ll get there, or if it’s even possible, we leave that to the greater outworking of things – trusting that when a vision is so clear and impassioned there must be forces at work to bring it to fruition. 

In fact, the moment we begin to question the possibility or validity of our inspired vision, we limit its potential. Yes, we’ll need to take action and move forward towards the ideas we’re excited about to make them real. But the energy of doubt, mistrust and needing to see the path ahead pulls us away from the flow of creating and locks us into thinking and planning our way there. 

It’s like this with our art-making too. We envision the work in our mind’s eye, we feel its essence and connect to the elements that are presenting themselves to us. But then we need to let go and trust the process – pursue the vision with awareness and a light touch, careful to not be too attached. If we force the process and try to make the painting follow a path that we think will get us there, we often end up with something that reflects that control and – as a result – feels devoid of emotion, vitality. 

Whether we’re creating a life or a work of art, we envision what could be, dream it up, expand beyond what we think is possible for us and then we follow the breadcrumbs that are there to guide us. They may not immediately look or feel like the clues to get there, but they most always are. It’s only in hindsight that we can see the connections, the chance meetings, the course corrections – sometimes disguised as failures – that led us to the destination. Suddenly we realize that we had a vision and now we are living it or witness its manifestation. 

Envisioning and creating is something only humans do. The ability to imagine something and then bring that into form is pretty amazing. Reading this old journal entry reminded me of this powerful aspect of being an artist – the awareness that we can create anything if we envision it. 

So dream on, dear artist. Create what you’re here to create. Bring your vision to life.

RECOMMITMENT

The start of a new year is always a time of reflection for me. I don’t make resolutions or necessarily set goals, but I know that feels right and works for many.

What feels more important for me to do is to reflect on the year as it comes to an end and take stock of what was accomplished, what shifted, what I’m grateful for, and what I’m recommitting to for the year ahead.

This year I have been thinking about the idea of recommitting – what it means and how it supports us in our art practice. For me, even the word “recommitting” feels more empowering than “committing”. Perhaps it is because when we recommit it means that we’re already committed at some level. Somehow this feels affirming and acknowledges the effort we have already put in to support ourselves and our desires.

When we recommit we are telling ourselves that we’re in alignment with our choices – past, present and future. It feels inclusive and empowering, bringing us into a deeper place of trust and connection to our purpose. 

As artists I feel that we practise recommitting constantly in our work. It’s the glue that holds us together. We recommit to our studio time, our progress with a painting, our development of our skills, and our willingness to dive deep and take big risks.

Even in each moment of our process we recommit to staying present, aware and truthful with ourselves. The creation of truly authentic art demands this of us. When we’re making our art from a truly connected place, a place that is open and honest, a place that is not concerned with others’ judgements or making work that sells, we witness our true self and create from that space. It’s a vulnerable space...where we are exposed, raw and out beyond the edge of our comfort zone.

Asking ourselves at anytime, but specially when we’re marking an ending and a new beginning, what we are recommitting ourselves to is a powerful process to explore. Using the question, “What am I recommitting to?” helps us strengthen our resolve. It honours our appreciation of the hard work we do every time we engage with our art-making and paves a way forward for the next phase of our practice.

• This year I am recommitting to consistency of practise and play in my art-making. Using even the smallest amounts of time as potent possibilities for connection – valuing all of it.
  
  

• I am recommitting to my self-care and drift time, knowing that this inner space is where ideas are birthed and nurtured, supporting the manifestation of my art.
  
  

• I recommit to even more self-acceptance, more willingness to be seen, more truth.
  
  

• In each art-filled moment I recommit to staying aware, present and mindful of the inner dialogue that is occurring. Recommitting to quieting, to discerning and self-supporting.
  
  

• This year I recommit to risking and embracing failure, in pursuit of the juiciest of work. I recommit to discipline, choosing courage over comfort (thanks to Brene Brown for that mantra), and to doing the emotional work that allows me to remain in the discomfort of not knowing.
  
  

• I recommit to being an artist in all ways, in all areas of my life. It’s a privilege to live this way and I recommit to honouring what I have been afforded to do.

May this New Year bring you abundant opportunities for your recommitment to all that supports your life and art-making.  

HARNESSING PERFECTIONISM FOR CREATIVE GROWTH

Many artists experience perfectionism, including myself. In fact, this may be a longer blog than usual because my perfectionism seems to be getting in the way of editing this down.

Perfectionism is a thought process that actually prevents us from starting our creative work, acting on our dreams or taking risks in our lives that can fuel our growth. If we are even able to start something, often perfectionism stops us dead in our tracks as we begin second-guessing and diminishing our budding efforts in the relentless pursuit of the often unattainable results we are after. 

The results we seek can seem truly monumental, a grand vision, a huge self-imposed expectation. This alone sets us up for struggle and potential defeat – we literally don’t have much of a chance of making any progress towards our goals.

If instead we could allow ourselves to simply make small, incremental steps towards our goals for ourselves, for our art, we would recognize that we’re actually getting things done, and we’re getting feedback along the way that can help us.

The idea of beginning a painting – or a project – and knowing the outcome and all the necessary twists and turns along the way is flawed and burdens us with a fixed approach, rather than a growth-focussed one. 

As Marie Forleo says in her book, ‘Everything is Figureoutable’, we succeed and grow when we focus on progress over perfection. When we bring awareness to our approach to making our art, we can begin to notice and work with our tendencies rather than against them – even use our perfectionism as a powerful tool for making progress.

If perfectionism is stopping you from either beginning or moving forward in your creative work, then what I have discovered through my research, by working with coaching clients, and in my own experience of being a self-proclaimed perfectionist, may be helpful.

I’ve always had a need to get things “right”, perform well, please others, and competently accomplish whatever I am working on. I’ve often said that I am driven by my feelings of responsibility. I believed this to be a core strength and something to be proud of. I don’t do a half-assed job of something, I go above and beyond what’s expected, required or asked. 

I’ve also responded to my own choices and commitments – once fully made – with the same vigorous attention to making everything I chose to do important to get just “right.”

As an artist I have bumped up against the two-sides of my perfectionist tendencies. On the one hand I have been able to present myself and my work well, I always followed through on my commitments, delivered on time, and maintained quality in my relationships. Gallerists love that in their artists – as did anyone I worked with or for, or so I believed. I now understand that may not always have been the case.  

So while that attention to the details and focus on honouring my commitments has served me well in that aspect of my artist’s life, what could possibly be the problem? 

Well, truthfully, the perfectionism that may have aided the business aspects of being an artist was not serving my creative aspects – at all. At least not in the way I was utilizing these tendencies. 

In my art-making, perfectionism was a limitation and a pitfall when it came to making the work, as it would also be when creating a new venture or moving forward on a dream project. Perfectionism does not like risk or growth. It does not allow the messiness of the creative process to be what it is. It turns out perfectionism actually robs us of our authenticity and prevents us from making our best art.

These two paragraphs from the book ‘The Heart to Start’ by David Kadavy really describes the mechanics of how perfectionism cheats us from making our art.

“We dream beyond our current skill level so we can convince ourselves we’re not ready to start. We tell ourselves we don’t have time. We take pride in our identity as perfectionists. All these create valid reasons to not get started. All of these let us feel good about ourselves in the meantime.”

“This self-deception is driven by the conflict between the ego and the self. Remember the ego is trying to protect us. It will convince us that we aren’t procrastinating, while at the same time allowing us to reap the benefits of that procrastination. In the short run, we have to do less real work, but in the long run, we end up never starting.”

It’s a harsh truth, I know. But when we set ourselves up to better manage these ego-based challenges and tendencies, we can find a work-around that will serve us better – helping us make the progress we’re after.

One strategy is to recognize that we may have to trick ourselves into taking action. When we place in front of ourselves a huge, daunting commitment – like, I’m going to paint every day for a minimum of five hours a day – then our ego seizes that opportunity, deeming it too much of a demand, convincing us to do something else instead, thus avoiding working at all. 

The internal voices of our ego – the inner critic – become emboldened when we attempt something so monumental and demanding. These voices tell us a convincing story of how important this is and how much it’s going to require of us, and – most importantly – how much pain we’re going to feel when we fail.

The feelings of discomfort and fear arrive like a landslide, and the need to protect our self-image becomes so overwhelming. We tell ourselves, “It’s best not to go there now, I’m just not up for it.”

To prevent this from happening, we have to find a way to begin and take action – any action – towards our vision.

A useful approach is to make a smaller, more manageable commitment. Perhaps commit to working on your art for only 20 minutes a day...and the time spent could be making small changes or big changes to what you’re working on. Or engage with some aspect of your creative practice – drawing, collage work, small studies. Any form of engagement counts, as long as you do it for a full 20 minutes without stopping and without distractions – otherwise known as avoidance strategies. 

In ‘The Heart to Start’, David Kadavy suggests:

“You have to apply just the right amount of force in your commitments. If you make too small a commitment, you won’t gain enough momentum to keep moving. If you make too big of a commitment, you’ll just end up cheating yourself.”

So there is a sweet spot for yourself that you’ll need to find and work with. We also need to be aware that cheating ourselves is actually very easy for us to do. We all cheat ourselves a little when given the opportunity, and studies have shown that we will cheat only to the level that allows us to maintain a positive self-image – so we can still feel good about ourselves. 

But here is the thing. Our perfectionism can actually work for us. We can harness some of that relentless drive to get it right and enlist our ego to help us start our creative work and continue to move forward.

With awareness we can notice when we’re monumentalizing and being overly demanding on ourselves. If we can then take that pressure off and give ourselves permission to just start, to play, to fail – to just make work even if it’s bad – we can then use our inner perfectionist to keep us moving towards improvement – making progress, not striving for perfection. 

So the idea is to let your perfectionist drive the “progress bus.” Let success be found in the incremental, consistent practice of engagement with your creative work. That is where your perfectionism can flourish – moving you along and working consistently at improving. 

When we make our work about the practice itself, and stop binding ourselves to making absolutely everything a successful outcome – meaning we invite failure and radical experimentation along the way – the process leads us to the good work, our authentic and most personal work. 

There simply is no other way to get there. 

If perfectionism is preventing you from even starting, or causing you to stop along the way, you’ll most certainly never get better at making your art. When we accept that to make good art we need to make lots of bad art, we give ourselves a fighting chance. 

With the right mindset and a ton of self-compassion, we can use our natural tendencies in ways that support that process. If you’re a perfectionist, know that the standards you apply to achieving good results can be redirected in a way that fuels your creative process. 

Let your perfectionist loose on staying consistent, on working more often and for shorter periods of time, thus allowing you to push at your boundaries and growing edges – all the way to the point of failure.

This is the work that will get you there.

I’ll leave you with this quote from Kadavy as an idea to consider. It definitely stopped me in my tracks as I reflected on my own relationship to perfectionism – as I have often proclaimed my perfectionism as competency and worn it as a badge of honour.  

“It feels good to believe you have high standards. I feels good to believe you have good taste. It feels good to believe that you won’t sacrifice your dignity by doing sub-par work.

But often times, perfectionism is what keeps us from getting started. As our ego cradles us in the warm blanket of our high standards, days and years melt by. We get ever closer to dying with our art still inside us.”

THE WEIGHT OF NOT FEELING GOOD ENOUGH

Recently I bumped into an artist friend who I haven’t seen for some time. The last time we connected she was transitioning from working in ceramics to painting. This was an exciting change for her and she was ready to explore the possibilities of where that could take her. 

As we talked I asked about her painting. A look of pained discomfort came over her face and she disclosed that she had abandoned her painting in recent months. Then she said, “Just between you and me, I stopped because I know I’ll never be good enough – I’m just not very good.” With these words I could see the waves of emotion rising up through her like a toxic tide. Her eyes looked wet with the pain of it all, her resignation and hopelessness hurting the very core of her creative being. 

The coach in me wanted to ask her so many questions. I had seen her work and it was good. She had skill and vision and was painting subject matter that inspired her. So many questions flooded my brain. I was aware that it was not the place or time to go there – uninvited coaching is never a good idea – but my heart ached for her and I offered what I could, telling her I was sorry to hear that and letting her know that her feelings are common to artists and something I encounter often in my work. I know how utterly painful these feelings can be. 

If I had the opportunity I’d want to ask her to tell me more, to find out how long this feeling of not being good enough had been with her. Not good enough for who? Not good enough for what? By what measure and standard are you judging your work? What is your relationship to painting? Why did you begin to paint in the first place? What evidence do you have to support that as truth?

Each time I encounter these feelings of “not being good enough” in my coaching work I am reminded of just how hard artists are on themselves and the emotional labour that art-making requires. And, I’ve been there myself and still have to work with feelings of inadequacy and self-sabotage...so I do know this place intimately. 

Every internalized message we received in our early life – every time we were told or felt we were not good enough for someone or something – we began to form a deeply entrenched belief about ourselves. We accepted these statements as the truth about us, even when there was abundant evidence to the contrary. 

When we make our art, everything we believe about ourselves shows up in the studio with us. The subconscious beliefs that we internalized come forward and begin to act on our consciousness. Our internal critic becomes noisy and destructive, inviting doubt, fear and apathy, sabotaging our every effort. Under the weight of it all, why do we even bother? 

So how do we work with these feelings of not being good enough and return to making our art? 

Here are some ideas and strategies to consider that you may find helpful:

First acknowledge the feelings. What are you actually saying to yourself? Perhaps writing out some of the internal dialogue in a journal will help you to see the destructive power of your thoughts. When the thoughts are only in your head you may not fully realize the potency of your negative self-talk. Putting these thoughts to paper sheds light on them, potentially giving them less energy and hold over you – and giving you the opportunity to reframe them and/or outright ignore them.

Watch your tendency to react to what you now know you’re saying to yourself. Watch out for that terrible feedback loop where you dump on yourself for having had the negative thoughts – piling on more self-criticism. What you want to do instead is remain curious and open. This is all about becoming self-aware and discovering your inner dialogue. If you can accept that this is simply a learned pattern – a habitual way of being – then you can learn how to change it.

Ask yourself what evidence you have to support these negative statements as truth. Often we believe it is simply supported by the fact that we are having feelings of not being good enough or less than. But, feelings are not facts. So while we may feel inadequate and as if our emotional state is the truth about us, there are likely tons of actual evidence that the feelings you’re having are not true. They may feel real, but they are not true.

Talk to yourself – after all, we all do it all the time. Our negative internal dialogue is a form of self-talk, and we can harness that power to change course and build our creative reliance. Try countering some of these negative talking points by offering yourself encouragement, support and kindness instead. Psychotherapists tell us that talking in the 2nd person when we do this is actually even more impactful. Our brains are wired for social connection and respond to that stimulus in a positive way. So if I’m thinking and saying to myself “I can’t do this. I suck” then I would respond “Cheryl, you’re being too hard on yourself. You’re working at strengthening your art, so it will be tough sometimes and maybe even a complete failure, but with perseverance and self-compassion you can get there.”

Watch out for social comparisons. We are bombarded with information about everyone else’s accomplishments and successes. We see it in our Facebook and Instagram feeds, as everyone presents their best. This is not reality, it’s curated reality. We are measuring ourselves against something that isn’t even real because we don’t see the back story, the struggle and the perseverance and emotional work that it took to get there. 

We only want to compare ourselves to ourselves. Are we moving forward, even incrementally, in our work? When we look at our own path and trajectory there is progress to acknowledge – in our skills, in our commitment, our vision and our approach. Whatever we are focusing our attention on we will find evidence to support that. If we look for our failures, we’ll find them. If we look for our strengths and successes, we’ll find those. Knowing where to focus your attention is key...feed the energy that will help you progress in your work.

Focus on values rather than accomplishments. Our society is steeped in the idealization of achievement and financial success. It is how we have come to measure our worth – comparing ourselves and what we have, to others to see how we’re doing. But is this the best way to measure our success and move ourselves forward?

By focusing on what we value in our lives – what’s important to us and what we most want to create – we can let go of the feelings of having to measure up to some idea of what success should be. Instead we can build our life and work around a value system that supports our needs and helps us to feel good about what we’re creating and doing.

When our life and work is based on our core values, we create more meaning in our life and open ourselves up to feelings of connection and compassion – not only towards ourselves, but towards others. We can then rewrite our story and accept that we are good enough, deserving and worthy. This alone will transform your relationship to your art-making and have ripple effects throughout your life and relationships.

Let your art-making be a part of your healing work. What it has to offer you extends far beyond any conventional measure of success. It will awaken you to what needs clearing and make you whole again. 

PRACTISING RADICAL SELF-ACCEPTANCE

I often use the phrase 'radical self-acceptance’ to remind myself, and my coaching clients, of this very necessary action that helps us make better art and enjoy the process even more. But what does this really mean and just how does it support the making of our art?

How easily we accept ourselves – flaws and all – has a direct relationship to the art we make. Our art is an extension of ourselves, our pure expression, our birthed creation, and when it comes from a place of stillness and truth it carries with it an indescribable quality – a quality that deeply resonates for us and with others. 

I believe that the quality of the relationship we have with ourselves affords us a much better opportunity to tap into the deep reservoir of self. When we are willing to look inside and accept all the various parts of ourselves, we can then show more of our truest expression in our art-making. We can stop censoring ourselves and truly trust the process of making our work. This is when our authenticity can't help but shine through.

In fact, when we focus on developing our self-compassion instead of our self-esteem we treat ourselves with more kindness and care, much like we extend towards a loved one or a good friend. When we extend this kindness towards ourselves we are more willing to accept our flaws and imperfections…which, of course, we all have.

By recognizing that all people are a work in process – imperfectly perfect – we can avoid the trap of expecting so much from ourselves. When we bump up against failure – which is an essential part of the creative process – we can shift away from reacting as if we have done something horribly wrong or that it shouldn’t be happening at all. We can give less energy to the idea that it means something about us and our abilities and instead we just notice and acknowledge what is occurring, recognizing that it’s normal and is part of being human.

A mindfulness practice helps us immensely to shift this tendency to be self-critical and allows for self-acceptance to grow in its place. In an interview with Olga Khazan for The Atlantic, psychology professor Kristen Neff spoke about how true self-compassion requires mindfulness and why it is a more effective process for change and growth than self-esteem building.

This section of the interview really stood out for me and supports the necessity of this practice not only for artists, but for everyone:

“Self-compassion also entails a mindfulness. In order to have self-compassion, we have to be willing to turn toward and acknowledge our suffering. Typically, we don't want to do that. We want to avoid it, we don't want to think about it, and want to go straight into problem-solving.

And in fact, I would argue that self-compassion also provides a sense of self-worth, but it's not linked to narcissism the way self-esteem is. It's not linked to social comparison the way self-esteem is, and it's not contingent, because you have self-compassion both when you fail and when you succeed. The sense of self-worth that comes from being kind to yourself is much more stable over time than the sense of self-worth that comes from judging yourself positively.”

As artists we need to strengthen our ability to self-support as we negotiate the emotional labour that art-making requires. When we consistently practise radical self-acceptance, by extending compassion towards ourselves, we are more present and able to embrace the challenges of making our work. When we accept ourselves, we accept our art. This allows for greater ease in the process of making it – even when we inevitably struggle or fail – helping us to stay engaged and connected to our authentic expression.

Perhaps today you can bring more awareness to your mindset while making your art and just notice the quality of your thoughts. Is there a way that you could reframe any of those thoughts and offer yourself some much needed self-acceptance? 

SAYING YES TO OURSELVES

“When you say ‘yes’ to others, make sure you’re not saying ‘no’ to yourself.” -Paulo Coelho

I often recognize myself in the clients I work with...they are always great teachers for me. And when I can help them step forward more fully into their creative life, it's such a beautiful thing to witness and it gives me such joy.

It also empowers me to continue to do my own work and check in with myself about what I am saying ‘yes’ to and why.

Being a person who often put others’ needs before my own, I understand how challenging it can be to balance the conflict between what we desire for ourselves, and our art, and the feelings of obligation to say ‘yes’ to everything that is asking something of us.

Our energy for our art-making can get zapped quickly when we give too much of it away. We need to be in touch with our motivations for saying yes to others, so that when we do say yes it comes from a place of choice and not from a need to please.

And it can be tricky to sort out. We have obligations that we need to attend to, of course, and we want to be able to offer our support to those we love and care about. So often it is about finding balance in it all. And when we can’t say no, accepting what is and trusting that our choice is what is necessary at this time.

For me, finding ways - even the tiniest of ways - to stay connected to my creative energy really helps when I have to say yes to a commitment that may take me away from my studio time.

Through writing, quick sketchbook explorations, and looking at art that inspires me, I keep the threads of connection in place and I can more easily re-engage with my art-making when the time and space is available once again.

Our art will welcome us back no matter how long we may have been away from it...it patiently waits, like a secret lover who knows the value of delayed gratification.

One of the most important understandings that has really helped me, is that the energy I am holding around the choices I am making is crucial. When I say yes, it needs to come from that place of choice-fulness and I let go of any of the negative self talk that might be percolating up around it.

Feelings of overwhelm, resentment or loss and grief often come up when I’m saying yes when I needed to say no.

Taking time to really check in with myself about my truth before I respond to a request really helps me to be more clear. Can I make the choice with an energy that supports me, rather than depletes me?

As a reformed people-pleaser myself (still working on that one!) I thought this article from Tiny Buddha offered some great advice for how to align with your truth and support your needs, bringing you back to a place of choice.

You deserve to give yourself back to yourself, and your art. These tips might help you to find more solace in the process of saying no, when in your heart you know it is the right thing to do.

DRIFT TIME...REVISITED

A few years ago I listened to a CBC interview with musician, artist and poet Patti Smith, where she described the importance of drift time in the creative process. She defined drift time as that vast and quiet space that we drop into when we allow ourselves to daydream. That space where our mind wanders and meanders from one free association to the next.

This is the place from which ideas are born and creativity thrives. It often comes when we’re doing mindless tasks like walking, cleaning the house or even showering. It’s a direct result of being bored and not having anything to focus our thoughts on. It doesn’t occur when we are going over our to do lists, checking our email or social media. It needs a vacuum, a space that isn’t filled up!

I wrote a blog post on this topic several years ago, as I noticed the challenge I was having around preserving my drift time. With the introduction of devices and the constant demand on our attention, my relationship to drift time has changed. It’s even more elusive and I now have to plan it into my day. And, I’m noticing, it’s getting tougher to do that.

What I observed then was that I had become less able to easily access that part of my brain that just floats and plays. I was often aware of this low grade feeling that I should be doing something, looking at something or checking something. Like a form of addiction, I felt a strong need to be checking in and then felt empty, like I had just wasted my precious time, as it really didn’t give me what I was truly needing - connection. 

I realize that we now have a relationship to technology that is firmly rooted in our lifestyles and business practices. But drift time and spacious quietude is such a necessity for our wellbeing and absolutely essential for artists and creative output of all kinds.

So how do we balance these needs and recognize when we should be giving ourselves some space to just be? Here are a few things I’ve noticed for myself and maybe they’ll be helpful for you as well…

• When there is resistance to making my art, because I am about to re-engage with the vast unknown, I often use technology, and the perceived “need” to check in, as a way of avoiding the familiar discomfort of doing my creative work.

• I tend to prioritize staying up to date with my devices, usually checking in with my business needs before anything else. Thinking that cleaning the slate, or my to do list, will free up my mind for my creative work, while the opposite is actually true. How many times have I sat down to quickly check my email before heading to the studio, only to lose hours of my time and drain my energy?

• Much like meditation, I can access “drift time” much easier when I don’t fill myself up with stimulation first. Can I reverse these priorities by creating new habits and recognize the benefits of nurturing this internal space, noticing how everything in my life and work improves as a result?

• As creative professionals we have a relationship to technology that supports our business, and it does that very well. But what about keeping “office hours” so we have more time for play, rest and creativity? We now work all the time and there is no off switch, unless we push it. We have to be disciplined about this or we lose ourselves completely, our art is neglected and we feel stalled, blocked and frustrated.

These are some of the questions I am asking myself right now as I am constantly challenged by the relationship I have to technology. How can I give back to myself what came so easily before? What renewed commitments do I need to make to keep things in better balance for myself? In what ways can I step up and design a life that puts creativity first, with the firm belief that everything else will be better as a result?

We are living in a time where finding the value in cultivating our creative mind-space is essential. It’s more important than ever to preserve and nurture our creative lives.

Finding ways to allow for more drift time in your life will not only deepen your connection to your art making, but will bring more purpose into your daily life as well…and support your ability to create and innovate.

This is what I’m committing to for 2019, even as I am becoming more and more involved with my online coaching business. I know it’s for my highest good….and will help me to help you!

I’d love to hear about your relationship to technology and in what ways are you nurturing drift time in your life. Please feel free to share your thoughts in the comments below.

CREATIVE COURAGE

Every act of creativity, whether making a painting, writing a book or launching a new business, requires us to show up and move through the tangle of doubt and fear that can naturally arrive. 

Even now, as I am launching my coaching business, Insight Creative, this familiar feeling is with me. To help move things along, I have been working with a business coach, George Kao, and something he recently shared reminded me of this process. He said, “Reinforce your ability as a creator and rebel against self doubt.” I loved that!

In my creative work, I have often let the feelings of doubt, that popped up along the way, to take hold and interfere with the process of making my art.

I took the arrival of doubt to mean that something was wrong - with my idea, with my execution and, ultimately, with me. I crafted a story that said “I am fearful and that must mean I don’t have what it takes to do this work.” I used fear as a gauge for my self worth and I then valued myself less when fear arrived.

All this did for me was feed the monster. Self judgement then piled on top of doubt....and things felt so heavy, making it impossible for me to feel inspired to continue. Stalled, I would give up and walk away...hoping that next time I’d be stronger, better, different than I was. I had completely abandoned myself….and my art.

It was when I finally came to realize that doubt and fear were a natural part of art making, that I could enter into a different relationship with it. First, I began to notice my doubts the moment they arrived, as they can run below the surface and feel like a quiet unsettledness or just a taste of frustration....subversive and murky.

Once I could more easily identify these feelings and thoughts, I could play with them a bit - bringing them forward for me to see them more clearly. I might write them down in my sketchbook journal, externalizing them. I noticed they became less powerful right away.

Then I could ask myself if they were actually true thoughts or just some imaginings about what might be or could happen. Was I concerning myself with other’s opinions? Was I worried about pleasing someone, other than myself? Was I placing too much importance on a successful outcome? Could I just be here, making my art and not place such weighty judgments on every brush stroke and any missteps along the way? 

When we can engage our art making, or any act of creation, from a place of courage - facing the fear and doubt, and doing the work anyways - we open ourselves up to possibility and discovery. 

If we can accept doubt as a natural outcome of creation, and allow ourselves to do the work from this place of awareness, we find that our doubts or fears get much quieter and we no longer react to them....we can simply be at choice in how we want to respond. 

Our response to our thoughts and feelings is where we most display our courage. Can we simply be with what shows up, not pushing it away or condemning ourselves? Can we craft a more truthful response that supports our efforts and engagement? 

This is creative mindfulness, the act of observing ourselves from a place of neutrality and curiosity, and it can bring so much peace to our process, allowing us to risk, play and fail....all qualities we need to embrace to make our most potent and authentic work. 

Next time you’re feeling a sense of doubt and struggle with your creative work, think about creative mindfulness and creative courage. Remember that any time we are diving into the vast unknown, that all creation is birthed from, we should expect to feel some trepidation....and some excitement too! 

Let the feelings arise and flow through you....like clouds moving through the sky. Notice them, but keep engaged with what you’re working on, trusting that you are deeply in your place of creating. Let your doubts and fears tell you that you’re creatively alive....being rebellious!

It’s truly all about the meaning we give to these thoughts and feelings, and the courage we have to face the fear and do it anyways! 

OUR ART PRACTICE

“An artist cannot fail, it’s a success just to be one” - Charles Horton Cooley

As artists we are finely tuned to notice and observe the world around us....we’re just wired differently, and, as a result, we can’t deny the relationship between our art and our lives. They are inextricably interwoven. Recently I read a passage in a book on yoga, ‘Light on Life’ by B.K.S. Iyengar, that really resonated for me. I’ve been a student of yoga for many years and have often noticed that what I am learning in my yoga practice also translates to my painting practice, particularly when it comes to the mental states that one has to hold while being present for one’s work. In yoga if you allow the mental chatter to permeate your mind, you are not doing the work of yoga....as it requires a certain type of mental training as well as the physical aspects of the Asanas - the poses.

I like to think of art making as a practice and attempt to bring as much awareness to my internal relationship to it as possible. One of the most challenging aspects for me is noticing when my ego is at play and how it may be sabotaging my efforts. It’s a slippery one, the ego...and it manifests in many forms in our mental-scape. Knowing when we are responding from it is very useful and can help us to take bigger risks in our art and our lives. When we can rein in our ego, this brings a refreshing "newness" into our world, that stimulates us and invites possibilities. If we can better understand our emotional landscape and practice discernment, we can then be gentler and kinder to ourselves as we work, getting results that are more in alignment with who we truly are.

Mr. Iyengar speaks of the ego in this way...he says that we are governed by mechanisms that resist change. The mind and the senses that inform it seek to repeat pleasure and avoid pain. And, we know that making our art can bring about much discomfort at times, especially when we are pushing at our growing edges. He also states that the ego defines itself as the totality of the experiences that have made up our past: my childhood, my university degree, my career, etc. It is the running total of all that has happened up until now...and our ego is in love with the past and these identities.

He says that what the ego fears most is its own death, and that lives in the future....in the unknown. The unknown, which we as artists engage with in nearly every moment of our work, activates the ego's primary fear of its own impermanence - the fear that one day its impersonation of the true self, the unknown soul, will be unmasked, at which point its very existence will be terminated.

As we open ourselves to being more truthful in our art and in our world, we risk touching on the unknown, on rejection, on the loss of our past. This is why it's so very challenging to be an artist... and so rewarding. We become trained observers of our internal responses and notice when fear, self doubt and even anger comes up for us. It is then that we dance with our ego, calling it out, and deciding if we want it to lead the way. If we surrender ourselves to the call of our soul instead, and reach further than we think we can, then we have a fighting chance at making the art that only we can make.

It is our attachment to the past, to what we know, our habitual ways of working, to needing and comparing, to avoiding the discomfort that inevitably comes with growth...that tells us that we are being informed by our ego. The simple act of recognizing this, and making a choice to be present again, allows us to open that door that brings risk and soul into our painting practice....and helps us to feel the expansiveness of that. What a wonderful gift to give to ourselves....and to our art.