Art as Healing

June has been a difficult month for me. I usually welcome the return to warmer weather with open arms, bare legs, and a jaunty hat (if one considers a baseball hat to be “jaunty”). This year has been different for a number of reasons: I’m still mourning Marm’s passing, creating and maintaining this website is more of a challenge than I’d planned on, and I continue to be very active in promoting #PWD issues in Canada. I’m a spare eater so … that’s a lot on my plate.

Much like this self-portrait that I did two years ago, I find myself overwhelmed by the many demands on my time and energy.

I fully accept that I decided to launch this website, I (long ago) decided that I would be very active in the #PWD community, and Marm’s passing was completely beyond my control. Knowing and accepting these things doesn’t lessen the cumulative effects on me though.

Thankfully, I have a loving husband, close family nearby, and a small group of friends to support me in my struggles. They’ve reminded me, lately, that not all of the art I create “needs to be commercial”; rather, they’ve encouraged me to take the time I need to create responsive art. I’ve also been reminded that they see me as a “very creative and inspiring” person that needs to quiet those inner voices that doubt and are fearful of change.

So … I’ve been spending the past few weeks working on a variety of more personal projects.

I started a new sketchbook solely devoted to Marm—her personality, her loves, the lessons she taught me, her absolute zest for living life, and her deep spirituality. I spent over 57 years loving this wonderful woman; I (eventually) want to share all she is with the world. Who knows … this sketchbook / journal may become the foundation for that book I’ve always wanted to write …

I’ve also been spending some time reviewing past pieces in my various sketchbooks. Unlike many of the more active and popular artists on social media, I’m not terribly precious about my sketchbooks. I don’t tend to worry about their contents being “worthy” of an Instagram, Facebook, or Pinterest post. I use my sketchbooks to explore new techniques, new art media, my emotions, and ways of translating them into a recognizable image.

Looking back on past work—whether sketchbooks or finished pieces—allows me to connect with what I was experiencing at the time. My artwork is very much a reflection of who I am, who I was, and (sometimes) who I am working on becoming. Reviewing these pieces also triggers my memories of the therapeutic tools that I’ve learned to address troubling emotions and experiences. They remind me that I was able to work through difficulty and came out the “other side” of them having learned something valuable about myself. It’s no surprise to me (and likely not to you, the reader) that one of my most intractable struggles pits being seen and being invisible against each other. I’ve always struggled with this—more so since the rise of social media as a measure of “performance” in public. Finding an ever-changing balance point between self-promotion and anonymity is a constant struggle.

I’ve never been terribly good as self-promotion; lessons of my childhood have left the stain of “recognition is selfish and sinful”. I long ago decided that “sin” is a concept that I refuse to accept. However, rejecting this does little to remove emotional stains that remain. How do I promote myself as an artist when I am left believing that “my art should speak for itself”? How do I bridge the gap between this core belief and the reality that Average Bear (the viewer) needs to be guided … hooked … in order for them to engage with me as an artist? I’m not new, in any sense, in the arena of creating art; I’ve been involved in it since childhood. I am very new in the field of salesmanship, promotion, and engaging (prospective) clients.

I’ve watched endless hours of YouTube videos, listened to equal hours of podcast, and devoured blogs beyond measure in my quest to become a better promoter. While their methods have been varied, the message remains the same:

Have faith in yourself! You have to put yourself out there! You will “find your tribe”!!!! If you want more details, just buy my system … [Paraphrase of every single EXPERT in self-promotion]

I fully accept the drive to earn an income for providing a service (I am writing on a website that I hope to profit from). What I can’t accept—even if I had the “extra income” to budget for this advice—is paying for a system that provides no details on what distinguishes it from the thousands that are out there. They all use the same sound-bytes, catch-phrases, and tired promises of “X clients have achieved success”, followed by auto-generated “reviews” that all (mysteriously) give their system consistently high ratings. I know, you know, and they know that it’s impossible for every client to have been excited by the performance of their system. It’s impossible to get 50 persons to agree on the best brand of water, much less which “promotion” system guarantees results. Marm didn’t raise a fool.

See … I know that my doubts are my longest lasting trauma and that they scream out for the most healing. Knowing this, while finding a balance point of healthy doubt (that keeps me in check) that won’t lead to becoming cocky … that’s the difficult part. It’s said that “success breeds more success”, but how do I measure that when any success—from overcoming doubt—is often delayed in time from the initial doubt? How do I divide that … journey … into more recognizable landmarks? How do I celebrate smaller successes when dealing with something so vast? Even as I type this paragraph, I feel doubts about the process of addressing Doubt creep in. You can see my dilemma, yes?

So … I’m asking you, Gentle Reader, for help in this. How do you quiet doubt? Have you managed to find a level of “healthy doubt” for you? How? I hate to limit the scope of any advice you have, but I’d really rather not hear versions of “check out this great YouTuber…”, “give your doubts to [Higher Authority]”, or “this come with maturity”. I suspect that I’ve watched at least as much YouTube as anyone else, I already have a close connection to my Higher Powers, and I’m also 58. I invite you to leave any comments / advice / tales you wish to share below; if you feel more comfortable leaving a non-public response, you can always leave me a message on my contact page.

Be well, Gentle Reader.