{do you remember learning to ride your first bike?}
as artists, we are always beginning; a new canvas, a new story, a new song, a new series. to be a beginner at anything takes humility. as julia cameron says, “it is impossible to get better and look good at the same time.” so true, so true. and yet, so much about what we do—and the art we make—is tied up with wanting to look good, wanting to offer up things that people will like, yearning to be accepted and approved of by others, seeking to be loved by proving (over and over again) that we are good, lovable and worthy of the love we seek.
as beginning artists especially, still not sure about our voices, we sometimes strive for perfection instead of joy, instead of being happy with, “wow! i learned something today!” we read about being authentic and we try (we really do!) to let that come out in our work and then throw out those yucky first, second and third attempts and sometimes quit altogether, always with the thought that maybe if we had “what-it-takes”, it wouldn’t be so hard, never guessing that years of practice gives a person the “what-it-takes” part of what we seek. and in the background, hidden behind the joy of making, lurk gremlins and trolls, giants and monsters heckling us as we move forward:
“what are you making those kinds of drawings for?”
“those are mighty big dreams. who do you think you are?”
“that looks awfully silly/serious/loose/uptight don’t you think?”
it takes courage and and safety to learn to trust our hearts and to learn to be well pleased with who God made us to be. i am finding that authentic artmaking really and truly does come from these simple truths; from knowing who we are and what we love and then being brave enough to commit our thoughts down on paper, or clay or fabric or words.
in artmaking we boldly (or timidly :) declare, “this is who i am, what i think, what i love.” artmaking is about embracing our whole selves (fears, inadequacies and all) and offering our most vulnerable selves to the world. when we stop trying to twist the marks we make into something that is unnatural and unrecognizable as ours, basically, when we stop apologizing for who we are and what we make—then joy and lots and lots of good art that looks like it came from OUR heart, gets born. i am learning this anew every. single. day.
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this is a safe space. are you a beginner too? add your voice to our community—i’d love to hear your experiences about being a beginner too...
